I do not own Sweeney Todd I only own Elinor. The last chapter was based off of Fantine's story from Les Miserables, and the song Lovely Ladies.

I awoke to the sounds of carts rattling along the cobblestone streets below. I sat up and rubbed my eyes and looked around, flashes of the previous night buzzed in my brain, I was in my old house, on Fleet Street. I reached my hand up and found my hair was indeed gone, jagged and unevenly cropped to the base of my neck, it had begun to straighten out and barely brushed the tops of my shoulders.

I stood and walked out of the room, it was bare, almost everything having been sold, except a large leather truck by the door and a cabinet against the wall, which held memories from my past life. A portrait of my mother holding Johanna, while I clung to her skirts, and odd and ends coated in twelve years' worth of dust.

I opened the door and slowly walked down the narrow passage to Mrs. Lovett's shop. She stood behind the counter, dressed in a black and grey striped dress and net gloves, pounding away at a lump of greyish tan dough. "Morning." I piped, "Good Morning dearie" she dusted her flour coated hands on her dress and waked over to embrace me.

"You look much better after a good night's sleep." She noted and felt my waist, which had ribs poking practically poking out after weeks on the street with barely anything to eat. "A bit skinny though, but we'll soon see to that."

"Mrs. Lovett, thank you for letting me stay here, but I can't pay you." I sighed, "Now who said anything about paying me, you stay here as long as you like." She seemed almost offended that I thought I would have to pay her.

"I would love to Ma'am, but I have to get money, so that I can get Johanna out of that awful place." I insisted, the baker sighed and pressed and hand to my cheek, "Ellie, you're a woman know, and you know as well as I it would take nothing short of a miracle to help little Johanna."

I looked at the dirty wood floor as hot tear began to form at my eyes, "Now now, none of that" She hugged me tightly. "Hush now, it'll be okay." I wipe my eyes before the tears could fall. "Now" she pulled away, "How about a meat pie?"

I laughed smally and wiped my eyes once more, "Are they as awful as I remember?"

"Worse." The baker corrected and handed me a small pie that was hard as stone and dusty looking. I knew that the pie would be awful, but it was something and nibbled the edge. Gagging on taste that managed to be sour, salty, bitter, and gamey all at the same time, I set the rest aside.

"Now, I've got an idea you can stay upstairs, in exchange for you working down here in the shop" offered, "How does that sound?"

I grinned like a child, "I think that sounds absolutely brilliant!"

(Three years later)

I woke up that smile with a smile on my face for no apparent reason. After three years of working with Mrs. Lovett, I was now 21 years old and my hair had grown to my shoulder blades, and I had developed dark rings under my eyes to match hers.

I marched down the stairs to meet Mrs. Lovett, who looked at me oddly, "What are you grinning about?" she asked picked up a large tray of uncooked pies, "I just have a really good feeling about today, I feel like something amazing is going to happen." I said happily, in the best mood I've been in in months.

"You know that feeling?" I asked and took the tray from her. "I'll take these to the bake house." I insisted as she stared after me with a befuddled look on her face. Humming a random tune I put the tray in the giant oven and lit it with a large match.

I waltzed up the stairs and into the shop. I gave a cheer nod to a grim looking man with a brilliant white streak in his black hair that sat in at a table. He eyed me like one would a lunatic as I wiped down the splintering wood tables with a cloth.

Mrs. Lovett was singing about how terrible our pies are and crushing bugs while baking, not like it would make them any worse, in fact it might make them better. I glance at the man's pie as a roach scuttled out of it. That's new, I thought and set a pint of ale on the man's table.

After he gagged on that, Mrs. Lovett cast him a look of sympathy, "It's going to take a lot more than ale to wash that taste out of your mouth dearie." I sighed, "Come one, I'll get you some gin." I set the cloth on the table and turned the sign to "closed" before following Mrs. Lovett and the man into the parlor.

Mrs. Lovett pour three shots of gin and handed one to the man and one to me, "There's a room upstairs." The man stated.

"What? Up there?" Mrs. Lovett asked, "Well one Elinor sleeps up there, used to be her old house it was. Plus no one will go near it." I leaned in, "People think it's haunted." I whispered

"You, years ago something happened up there, something not very nice." Mrs. Lovett sighed and began to sing a haunted lament.

"There was a barber and his wife, and he was beautiful, a proper artist with a knife, but they transported him for life." She sighed, "And he was beautiful"

"Barker his name was." She noted, watching the man closely.

"Benjamin Barker" I added. "He had this wife you see? Pretty little thing."

"Silly little nit." Nellie piped, "Had her chance for the moon on a string."

"Poor thing" I moaned.

"Poor thing." Nellie nodded. "There was this Judge you see, wanted her like mad. Every day he'd send her a flower." She shook her head, "but did she come down from her tower?"

"Sat up there and sobbed by the hour." I remembered clearly. "Poor fool."

"Ah but there was worse yet to come poor thing." We sang together as the man listened intently.

"Well Beetle calls on her all polite, poor thing, poor thing." I explained. "The judge he tells her is all contrite, he blames himself for her dreadful plight, she must come straight to his house tonight. Poor thing Poor thing."

Nellie took over, "Of Course when she gets there poor thing poor thing, they're having this ball all in masks. There's no one she knows there, poor dear poor thing. She wanders tormented and drinks poor thing .The judge has repented, poor thing. Oh where is judge Turpin she asks."

The man grew increasingly agitated and I have to say, I wasn't doing much better, but I pressed on.

"He was there alright, only not so contrite."

"She wasn't no match for such craft you see, and every one thought it so droll." I continued, "They figured she had to be daft you see, so all of them stood there and laughed you see, poor soul." I grew increasingly angry at the injustice of it all, "Poor thing."

"No!" the man shot up and roared, "Would no one have mercy on her?" he asked helplessly.

"So it is you." Nellie gasped, "Benjamin Barker" she whispered. I stood stunned, unable to moving or speak from sheer shock.

"Where is Lucy?" He asked, "Where is my wife?"

"she killed herself, poison, from the apothecary around the corner. I tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen." She stood, "And he's got your daughter, one of the anyway. Johanna."

My father stared at her with a dead look in his eye, "raised her like his own."

"Fifteen years, sweating in a living Hell, Fifteen years dreaming that I might come home to my wife and two daughters." His eyes darkened, "Where is Elinor, where is my eldest girl?"

I walked forward stiffly, "Daddy?" I whispered. He looked at me up and down, dropping his coat. "Ellie?" I choked back and sob and rushed into his waiting arms.

"I missed you so much." I whispered into his chest. "My Little Ellie." He held me tightly, "what are you doing here?"

"I ran away." I looked up at him, "I couldn't stand it anymore and I ran away and I left Johanna all alone and Daddy I'm so sorry." I sobbed.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, you're safe now, and we will get your sister back I promise." He assured me.

We finally pulled away, "Well." Mrs. Lovett sighed, "I can't say the years have been very kind to you Mr. Barker."

"No." he snapped quickly, "Not Barker, It's Todd now." He looked at her, "Sweeney Todd." He looked down at me, "And he…" he trailed off,

"We will have our revenge."