Who knew how many days I had sobbed against Anthony's chest, my tears soaking his shirt through. I barely cared. I was far too angry to care now.

It was strange to weep for reasons other than my own sadness. For Toby's sake, I was furious. I loved my Papa dearly, but could not ever deny that Toby, a young brother to me, had sat by my side for almost months on end.

Poor little Toby.

I saw naught of him for a few days, although Anthony assured me he would at some point return to us. Indeed he did. It was late one evening, and I had grown tired of weeping- no longer out of anger, but instead of frustration. My stomach seemed to have grown again over night, and it frightened me ever so much.

Long after I had closed my eyes, I was awakened by a soft creaking of the door. My eyelids were too heavy to open, and so I simply sighed tiredly and listened.

"Where have you been?"

"In the pantry," came Toby's small voice, cracking slightly with effort.

"The pantry?"

"Gaining the courage to go speak to ma'am." I remembered fondly the way he had repetitively called me 'ma'am' beforehand, but realised that the way he directed it to Mrs Lovett sounded more like 'mum'.

"Did you?"

A low, racketing sigh escaped Toby, and I felt Anthony shift slightly as Toby sat beside us.

"I spoke to her. Good hour, I should think."

"But you seem so forlorn."

"Do you really think she'd listen to me?" he asked, forcefully laughing. "Spent most of the time wandering up and down the length of the room, muttering about him."

Neither of us needed to be told who he was. Papa had never once been off Mrs Lovett's mind. I shuddered. Only a week ago I was reminded that she was my mother now. It made no sense to me at all, but I accepted what I was told. Each time I heard her name- whether I was awake or not, so I was told- I shivered.

Toby seemed to notice this finally.

"Is she…awake?"

"Johanna fell asleep at least two hours ago. I would not fear her hearing."

"I don't mind if she does."

"She may, though."

There was a small silence, where nothing was heard but soft breathing. It was enough to send me to sleep again, but just in time, Toby spoke again.

"How long does she have left?"

"Not too long."

"Time flies by," Toby said in a hushed voice.

"You have no idea."

"What about Mr Todd?"

Anthony held his breath for a moment, but it passed by quickly.

"What of him?"

"Has he talked about…it yet?"

"I'd rather you didn't use the term it."

"There's no other term to use."

"Well, either way, he hasn't said anything."

"Do you expect he will?"

"I expected him already to have mentioned it on passing."

"He still has time to ask about it."

"I should think he's been keeping count without us."

"Do you really?"

"I would not know. If he spoke more often as a man should, perhaps I could be certain."

Toby sighed heavily, and Anthony shifted, putting an arm around the young boy.

"Are you still thinking of Mrs Lovett?"

"How can I not when she is no longer Mrs Lovett?" Toby asked, a tear audible in his voice.

"No longer?"

"She is Mrs Todd, now, isn't she?"

"Ah."

"Mrs Lovett was my mother," he said earnestly, the tears now clear. "Mrs Todd cares naught for me."

"Surely she-"

"She cares naught," Toby interrupted firmly.

"You needn't worry any longer," Anthony said softly. I smiled ever so slightly, attached to the tone.

"I never knew my own mum," Toby said. His voice had become much quieter.

"Many a child has not."

"Many did not find Mrs Lovett."

Anthony chuckled, squeezing Toby gently.

"If we've learnt anything from Mr Todd, that loss can only make you stronger."

"But if I have to be compared to Mr Todd…"

The silence came again, and slowly I came to realise that Toby had fallen asleep. Anthony fell slack, and his slumber had come too.

Not long after, I had lost all consciousness as well.

Sorry for the short chapter. Just wanted to explain Toby a bit. And Mrs Lovett. The story's nearly over, people!