AN: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE SWEENEY TODD: DEMON BARBER OF FLEET STREET FRANCHISE!

Me: Garbage, I know.

Chapter Fourteen: Seven Years,

"Mrs. Lovett," He said as he shut the door to the parlor behind him. "May I take you somewhere? You need not go with me as an affectionate, but simply as a friend, or a land-lady, whichever you prefer." The look on her face was uncertain. He tried a smile, the first he'd given in many years, not even the slimmer of a smile had played on his lips at New Gate prison. He wasn't practiced at it, but he could tell it had affected her. "Please? It would mean so much to me."
Sighing, Mrs. Lovett stood from where she had seated herself and nodded her approval to him. Gently, not wanting to disrupt her, he took her hand in his, leading her out into the shop, where strangely only the boy remained. He continued to the door, assuming the girl was elsewhere. He led her outside to where a horse was awaiting them. Sending him a questioning stare, she looked at him. Smiling he lifted himself onto the horse and pulled her up behind him and began to make the horse go at a trot down the road, making her grab his waist regretfully.

They rode for a half-hour north, still not an inkling of where they were supposed to be headed in her mind. Finally they stopped and she gasped at the scene before her. They were at the only shore in London. And at that shore, stood her seven siblings before a forgotten house.
"Mr. T... How did you do this? In one night non-the-less!" She asked as he dismounted.
"People can do all sorts of things, when they are in love." He murmured, a blush coming to his normally pale cheek. Blushing herself she thanked him with a kiss to his cheek before running as fast as she could to her siblings, embracing them all at once. The first time in seven long years.
Standing back, she took them all in. Annabeth was still just as she remembered, long red hair that fell to her lower back in neat, organized curls, pale blue eyes shining as bright as her white smile. She stood wearing a simple green frock. Sarah, she had manageable curls of sandy-blond hair and bright green eyes that contradicted her many freckles covering her face. Amelia, the eldest of them all, she had short, wild curls of black hair that reached her shoulders, and storm-gray eyes. Then there was sweet Gillian who was only a year older than Margery herself. She had blond hair that was almost fighting to be red like Annabeth's, and hazel, almost gold eyes. Now for her brothers, Salem, he had the darkest raven hair and deep chocolate brown eyes that matched him perfectly, though she could swear they still held that glint of mischief they had had when he was a boy. The twins, Nicholas, Thomas, they each had flaming red hair and the darkest sea-green eyes. She missed these faces, the only family she had left stood before her in front of the house they had grown up inside.

It really had been seven long years. Seven years since she married Albert, seven years since her father had killed himself, leaving Nellie who was only twelve at that time to be forced into marriage to help her family from the poor-house. She was the youngest, and Annabeth had already married and been left to fend for herself soon afterwards when he had left her. The last of their money with him. It had been hard, the oldest, Amelia, was only eighteen herself, hardly able to keep them all fed and alive. But now, that was over, they had all separated when they were evicted from that very house. Seven long years.

Watching from a distance, he stood. It had taken him a simple secret letter to get them all here, for her. Seeing her so happy, melted the heart that had been so long frozen over by the abandonment of his parents and his many years in New Gate prison. For once in the barber's short life of twenty years, he felt happy, and it wasn't even done for him. Still, something haunted him, a hatred still burned in his still cold heart that was only just cooling. Whether accepting love in him or not was wise, he still had revenge to seek, and vengeance he would have. Not bothering to tell Mrs. Lovett, he walked off, heading for his shop.
Once inside the shop, he hastily removed the sign and took hold of his razors immediately. A man came strolling in soon after.
"Care for a shave my good sir?"