Hello again everyone!! First of all, I really want to apologize for the extended wait, especially since I wrote to many of you saying that this fic would be updated within a week of the last update; I sincerely beg your forgiveness. My full load of classes (Psycholinguistics, Audiometry, and Phonological Disorders in Children) has all but dominated my life, so updates may be slow…again please forgive me, dear ones).

That being said I want to extend my deepest THANKS to all of you who reviewed the last chapter. I was ESPECIALLY nervous about how everyone would feel about it and I LOVE YOU ALL for the great amounts of encouragement you provided (Miss Poisonous, AngelofDarkness1605, Only Leigh, dahliax, Just a Little Crazy, ShadowedElegance, BabyBluewinx, Marzi,Inu-midoriko,saz89, Arianya21, Serpent91, Lizzienuss88, andaere, Girl-Anachronism89,Unknown-Angel, sheetah, DaringD, Jesslynn's Vanity, Aiseki Anrui,InuChan7979, ABloodyWonder, HakuoBlake, BritishDracoLuvr, and

blknblupanther1).

Thank you and I truly hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the last one!!

--

"Mum, please, don' make me do this. Ya' know I would never disobey ya under any other circumstances, but I mus' refuse. I'm a grown man, ya see, an' in all me eleven years I 'ave learned ta trust me gut. Frankly, the thought of 'avin ta do such a thing makes me right sick, it does."

Toby made a valiant attempt to declare every word of his statement in a firm and mature fashion, yet he was betrayed by the telltale quiver of his lower lip. The child's eyes grew moist with a wet sheen, and he bit down on his lip in an effort to battle oncoming tears.

"Now love, it's only ta be a three day visit. The Hopes 'ave so graciously agreed ta 'ave ya as their guest, proper pleasant folks they is. They live right on the edge of the countryside, in South Okendon. Wot wit creeks and pastures all about, it's quite the perfect spot for a growing boy ta venture on holiday."

As Mrs. Lovett spoke her words, she knelt before the boy in order to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. She'd been under the impression that the most complicated task in need of accomplishment that morning would be the closing of the shop for that day. The flustered baker hadn't expected to be engaging in such an immense amount of convincing. Concern lit her features as she gazed out of the shop window. The coach and its driver, sent by Johanna to retrieve Toby, had been stationed outside of the pie shop for nearly a full hour. The worried baker watched as the driver sighed and scratched his head in irritation. Toby's obedient nature had not faltered once since he had come to be under Mrs. Lovett's care; therefore this unanticipated display of stubborn rebellion had taken her by surprise.

" But I don't wan ta go on holiday mum. I want ta stay here wit you. God knows wot tha' devil 'as planned for ya the second I step out a' the shop…" Toby's words softly trailed off as he met Mrs. Lovett's worried gaze.

Mrs. Lovett's heart softened with warm affection at the sight of the immeasurable amounts of love and devotion alive in Toby's eyes. Time after time, Mrs. Lovett had been taken aback by child's genuine nature; it was a thin glimmer of light in a world occupied by dark dishonesty .The baker had always been surrounded by an environment in which greed and corruption were common philosophies and modes of survival. Never before had she met an individual who held the welfare of others in higher regard than their own. At certain quiet moments, Mrs. Lovett would observe the child and shamefully reflect on her own selfish nature; in the not so distant past, she had been willing to sacrifice the boy in order to gain Mr. Todd's approval. Now, with the passing of certain defining events, Mrs. Lovett had slowly begun to resent her blind loyalty to Todd, and knew this fact must be remedied. Despite all her past faults, Mrs. Lovett and Toby currently shared a common goal: to provide protection to one another. The small boy would not remain unscathed if he were to be left alone with Mr. T. That heartless creature's sole purpose on this earth was to gain personal satisfaction in the form of bloodshed, and she'd never allow the innocent child to be placed in his clutches again.

Gently grasping both of Toby's small shoulders in her hands she drew him to her and whispered, "I understand yer apprehension love, and it does pain me ta see ya go. However, you'd only be gone for three days, and I'm not ta be alone for long. Mr. Woodhull shall be arrivin' within mere hours and I shall be under 'is protection. It's for your own good, my darling boy. I'd never forgive meself if that miserable man lay 'is hands on ya. Please love, go for me."

After a prolonged silence, Toby slowly raised his eyes to Mrs. Lovett, tears wetting his cheeks at the realization that her words held some measure of truth. Besides, it provided him with a small amount of comfort to know that Mr. Woodhull's kind eye would watch over his beloved baker. Reluctantly, the child gripped his small sack of clothing and nodded, "Yes mum."

--

Mrs. Lovett watched silently from her bedroom window as the large black coach departed. Her eyes remained glued to the object as its large wheels sent small droplets of water flying in all directions, passing swiftly along the rain soaked street, and finally disappearing behind the crowds of nameless people.

When the coach was completely out of sight, small twinges of anxiety and loneliness clouded her mind. Mrs. Lovett shot one glance toward the empty green velvet couch where Toby spent his nights, finally confirming the fact that she was indeed on her own. Her small guardian and sole keeper of her well being, was currently being escorted miles away from her. The comforting tone of Toby's voice rang clearly in her ears.

Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around.

Mrs. Lovett brought her hands up to smooth the front of her dress, in a habit meant to calm her agitated nerves. It did little good to draw her mind away from the fact that she had been left isolated with a man who had attempted to murder her in her own bedroom.

Pull your thoughts together Nellie, you 'aven't caught sight 'a Mr. Todd in more than four days. The vicious beast 'as been locked up inside his parlor doin' God knows wot. Besides, you mus' prepare for Mr. Woodhull's visit. Ya can't very well look like a frightened pup, all disheveled and trembling, when he comes ta call on ya.

Her own thoughts of self-assurance brought her focus to the large bolt lock which Toby had insisted on placing at her door. Rising from her chair, she slid the lock into place. The loud click emitted by the lock served to dull the sharpened edges of her fear.

Turning to pass in front of her vanity, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. Running a critical eye over dark circles and the pale shade of her shrunken cheeks, she clicked her tongue in disapproval. A flash of feminine instinct mingled with the security provided by the lock and prompted her to begin the task at hand.

Making her way to her vanity, she pulled opened the drawer to reveal a green wooden box and curling tongs. Blowing the dust off the box, she removed the lid to expose a flask of oil and a glass container of crushed pink powder. It had been years since she felt the need to utilize such frivolous devices, but the occasion at hand called for such feminine luxuries. After gently setting each separate item on her dresser, she strolled over to the cedar doors of her closet.

Sifting through a vast forest of soft black material, Mrs. Lovett foraged through the small collection of dresses in her wardrobe. Her fingers encountered various textures of cotton and lace, but she pressed on, for none of those fabrics would suit the occasion. Finally, hidden behind the sea of black cloth stood a glorious wine colored gem. Mrs. Lovett brought forth the burgundy velvet treasure, cradling it within loving hands. The gown was absolutely stunning; composed of yards of rich burgundy and black velvet. It consisted of a trailing underskirt and a long draped overskirt. A delicate black glass bead fringe decorated the waist portion, a square cut bodice, and long bell shaped sleeves. Soft black lace flared out from the ends of the sleeves. Gazing down at the dress, Mrs. Lovett was able to clearly recall the memory associated with the beautiful fabric.

Mrs. Lovett had fallen into deep infatuation with the gown one afternoon countless years ago. The woman had passed by numerous dress shops on the way home from the market. Her hurried strides had come to a sudden halt when a sight through a shop window caught her eye. The gorgeous garment held her gaze captive and caused her mouth to hang agape. In that moment it was apparent that she could not live without ownership of the beauteous velvet. Mrs. Lovett spent endless hours convincing a cynical Albert that the purchase was worth a portion of her daily earnings. The baker had softly bargained with her robust husband, assuring him that she coveted the dress in order to appear more pleasing to his eyes, and promised him a large roast chicken dinner in return for his consent. Finally, out of annoyance and hunger, Albert had grumbled in agreement. From that day onward, Mrs. Lovett had only adorned the dress once, but it wasn't Albert's eye which she'd aspired to attract. She had emerged from her room, equipped with a radiant smile and embellished in stunning wine colored fabric, on Benjamin Barker's birthday.

The memory brought a melancholy smile to Mrs. Lovett's face as her fingers traced the beads. Holding the dress up to her figure and twirling about in front of the mirror, she attempted to force a smile.

Both Benjamin Barker and Sweeney Todd are as good as gone from me life at this point. Besides, any woman would kill ta 'ave the attention Mr. Woodhull has granted me, wot wit him bein' such a fine gentleman an' all…surely he would 'ave the ability to cure some of the pain associated with a broken heart.

Suddenly, all her optimistic thoughts ceased as harsh realization struck,and Mrs. Lovett allowed her smile to falter. Pressing an unsteady hand to her chest, the woman knew with painful certainty, that no amount of self convincing would transform her assumptions into truths.

--

"You are a sad little man indeed. Ta worsen matters, ya attatch blame ta everyone else for yer wrongdoings. Whose hand was at the other end a' that razor? Did I press a pistol ta your thick head and force you ta kill her? No, I did nothin' of the sort. I didn't kill Lucy, Mr. T, you did! If I had been present at that very moment, I never would 'ave allowed yer razor ta go anywhere near 'er neck. I never wanted Lucy ta die, Mr. T. All I wanted was a life wit you, for you ta love me…Selfish, I may be, but a murderer I am not. That role is reserved for you."

It was Mrs. Lovett's words, uttered in a smooth confident tone, which beat against Sweeney Todd's temples in a torturous rhythm and sent him into a furious fit of pacing. His feet pounded furiously against the wooden planks, and he entwined rough fingers into his ebony hair. Todd hated that woman, hated her with a loathing fueled by all the fires within his condemned soul.

Fire, that's the blasted root of this all, is it not Todd? Destruction in its finest form, a consuming force which has the ability to tear down seemingly invincible layers and reveal the inner workings within oneself and others…whether those workings be composed of failure or truth…

Sweeney Todd laughed aloud at his revelation, and continued to gnash his teeth. That evening in the bake house, Todd had made it his mission to deliver Mrs. Lovett to the disposal of the flames within her own oven, and yet he had ascended the steps from the cellar a wretched failure. All of his accusations, which he had repeatedly flung in her direction with cruel force, had been burned to the core by the truth. It was during his second attempt to end Mrs. Lovett's life that the heavy blaze of sincerity within her statements had forced Todd to retreat from her bedroom to the safety of his parlor. That night, the smolder of truth had simultaneously set her free and declared him a prisoner. In the end, Mrs. Lovett had emerged with dual victories.

Sweeney Todd suddenly slowed his pace and allowed his gaze to fall upon his hands. The thousands of men, all sentenced to death by Todd's hateful hands, had little impact on the murderous man. There often came a point, between the multitude of gurgling screams and ruptured jugulars, were Todd lost sight of each gruesome task. He had the ability to gaze into a pair of eyes, widened by wild fear and miserable regret, and see nothing before him but an empty space. However, one death had the power to bring Todd to his knees and still the cold beating of his heart; this being the death of his dear Lucy. Weighing on what meager scraps of conscience he had left, was the condemning fact that Lucy's life had been ended by a razor clutched tightly within his own hand. It was the realization that his rampant bloodlust was responsible for the swinging of the razor across her throat. Sweeney Todd's purpose and objectives had been wonderfully lucid when he could stare at Mrs. Lovett and recognize her as the source of his misery and the instigator of his actions. Yet the blasted woman had contradicted this very fact, and although her deceitful lies had assisted in painting the scheme, Todd now held a clear view of the blood on his hands. As his thoughts of Lucy persisted, a second set of Mrs. Lovett's words filtered through his mind.

"You're right Mr. T. I will never be like Lucy. Because I loved you more than that insane woman ever could and did. Silly nit that she was, she couldn't even hold herself together long enough to take care of her own child…tryin' ta take the easy way out and turnin' herself stark ravin mad in the process, turnin to beggin and whorin herself around town. You most certainly are correct Mr T. I will NEVER be like Lucy."

Yes, of course, the second twist of Mrs. Lovett's dagger. The initials branded on Lucy's wrist had provided the evidence to expose the truth within Mrs. Lovett's claims. Todd had spent countless hours reflecting on the virtuous nature of his modest and proper wife. It was all so pointless now; the golden pedestal on which Todd had placed Lucy had slowly begun to disintegrate. Not only did the truth place Todd amidst a whirlwind of heartbreak, but he now felt as if the jester's hat had been placed atop his head. He had been transformed into the most ridiculous of fools.

It was Mrs. Lovett, that devious witch who sent it all down in flames, Todd; everything you've worked towards has been reduced to a pile of ashes.

Sweeney Todd's pace abruptly commenced with an increased swiftness, as he felt another form of fire begin to heat his blood. It was this fire in particular which Todd loathed most furiously; it cruelly lit his senses and set him amongst an unforgiving tempest of confusion. These flames presented themselves whenever the memory of the caress he had shared with Mrs. Lovett flashed vividly through his mind. The weight of her lips crushed against his had served to inflame every inch of Todd's cold flesh, yet sent a delightful shiver down his spine. A voracious hunger, so intense in its assault, plagued Todd at the thought of Mrs. Lovett's bare shoulders peeking above the bodice of her dresses. So violently had this fire tortured Todd's being that at times his tightly clenched fists had produced his own blood beneath his fingernails. This heated punishment had plagued him with an increased strength, starting from the very night he had been driven from Mrs. Lovett's bedroom by her declaration of truth.

For this very fact, Todd had avoided the pie emporium at any cost, consuming crusts of leftover bread and the remnants of his tea kettle. Not that the man had any real need for sustenance; his desires where directed elsewhere. Todd's days had been spent catching short glimpses of the baker from his window, pacing constantly, and sending the occasional bloodied customer down the chute.

Suddenly, it dawned on Todd that he hadn't caught even the shortest glimpse of Mrs. Lovett's presence that day. Truth was, she had stopped bringing him his daily meals, but it was quite unusual for her not to perform her daily task of removing the dust from the outdoor tables. Venturing over to the large window pane, Todd's gaze wandered in the direction of the pie shop. The puzzled barber observed that the outdoor serving area was void of its usual bustle of pie gobbling customers.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Todd spotted him. Mr. Jasper Woodhull confidently sauntered down Fleet Street as if he had just gained ownership of the entire block. The tall brown haired man wore a black jacket with red velvet lining and matching trousers. An unmoving Sweeney Todd watched with mounting rage as Mr. Woodhull's journey ended directly in front of Mrs. Lovett's shop. A tightly wound knot of fury settled within his chest, and his hand flew directly to his holster. Tremors wracked Todd's form at the sight before his eyes; Mr. Woodhull had disappeared within the pie shop.

Instantly, all previous logic escaped Todd's mind as the determined barber firmly clutched his razor and rapidly descended the stairs to Mrs. Lovett's shop.

--

"Breathtaking, Nellie dear, you are absolutely breathtaking. I'd wager that the sight of you is enough to melt an army of frozen hearts," Mr. Woodhull stated as he entered the pie shop, green eyes bright with gleaming approval centered on the petite woman displayed before him.

Yet not nearly enough ta melt the one that matters, Mrs. Lovett thought pitifully as she plastered a gracious smile upon her face. Although the majority of her thoughts were of a cheerless nature, she did experience a slight degree of satisfaction at the fact that her hours of preparation had not gone unnoticed

"Why thank you, Jasper dear, you're far too kind."

"I only speak the truth, pet," Mr. Woodhull confessed as he emitted a throaty chuckle, "Shall we be on our way then, love?"

Mr. Woodhull extended a gloved hand in Mrs. Lovett's direction. Clutching Pirelli's extravagant red coin purse in one hand, Mrs. Lovett offered her empty palm to Mr. Woodhull.

"Of course dear, I wouldn't dream of keepin' yer guests waitin for…." Mrs. Lovett's words came to an abrupt halt as the harsh raucous of a slamming door echoed throughout the room. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart ceased to beat at the formidable sight which had presented itself before her; Sweeney Todd stood firmly rooted in the middle of her kitchen, eyes ablaze and razor grasped tightly in hand.

Sweeney Todd's breath hitched sharply in his throat as he swept a intense gaze over the figure of the startled baker. His mouth grew dry and a spark began to kindle in his eyes as they fell upon her glossy, newly pressed ringlets; never before had he seen the flour stained baker wear her hair in such an elegant fashion. Mrs. Lovett's hair was pinned neatly atop her head in loose ringlets, and in various places, a crimson lock fell to frame her pale features. Todd's heated gaze gradually drifted downward to pass over her face and neck, where he allowed it to linger in order to absorb the baker's complexion. Mrs. Lovett's skin had been transformed from its usual waxen texture, to a soft pallid hue accented by rosy cheeks and pink tinted lips. A black velvet choker with a golden pendant had been placed at her delicate throat and hung at an angle which begged Sweeney Todd's hungry eyes to venture lower. The fire in Todd's eyes rose to its highest degree, as they lowered to Mrs. Lovett's heaving chest. Sweat made his palms sticky, and a warm flush crept over his skin at the sight of the delectable swell of her pale beasts above a low cut bodice. Todd drank in the lovely contrast of the wine colored fabric against her smooth flesh; the intoxicating effect held more potentcy than any amount of gin. His fevered gaze was only broken by the cheerful tone of Mr. Woodhull's voice.

"Mr. Todd, have you come to see us off on this fine day?" The tall gentleman was too occupied with the slight weight of Mrs. Lovett's gentle hand upon his arm to notice the murderous daggers Sweeney Todd's gaze had shot in his direction.

A wicked smile tickled the corners of Todd's thin lips, as he raised his voice in feigned enthusiasm, "Fortunately for you, good sir, my intentions extend far beyond that. You see, I would like to extend to you my highest degree of gratitude, due to the fact that you have taken it upon yourself to so graciously attend to my neighbor," Sweeney Todd aimed a vicious eye at Mrs. Lovett, causing the frightened woman to quaver slightly. Widening his devious grin, Todd continued, "Therefore, it would be my honor, to provide you with a shave, free of all charges. I assure you sir, that I can shave a cheek with more dexterity than any barber near or far. I guarantee sir, I can offer you the closest shave you will ever know."

The last words of Todd's proposal dripped with venom, a threat that was only recognized by Mrs. Lovett. Frantic thoughts of resentment flew through her mind as she quickly sought to devise a plan.

Tha' vile and despicable creature is tryna' assure my misery at all costs. Mr. Woodhull may be me las' chance at a decent life, an' he would rob me of even that simple privilege.

"Oh no dearie, it's quite alright, we are late as it is and best be on our way. Besides, your guests shall be arriving at any given second," Mrs. Lovett spoke as she set pleading eyes on Mr. Woddhull's face. Her grip on his arm tightened in panic as she attempted to pull him in the direction of the door.

"Guests, Mr. Woodhull? I'm most certain that these guests are of the utmost stature, perhaps even a number of business prospects shall be present, worthy of an impressive first impression. My hand is skilled and swift, Mr. Woodhull, it shall only take mere seconds."

As Sweeney Todd confidently stated the words of his offer, he took long strides towards Mr. Woodhull, and placed a persuasive hand on the man's shoulder.

An infuriated Mrs. Lovett witnessed Todd's sly movements with a careful eye. Never being one to give up without a decent fight, she began to gently massage Mr. Woodhull's bicep.

" Aw, love, ya' look absolutely wonderful already, done up all proper like in yer finery,"Mrs. Lovett cooed as she lowered thick lashes, then slowly lifted wide eyes to Mr. Woodhull's entranced gaze, "Besides, I do adore the rugged look and feel of a man wit' a bit a' stubble."

Mrs. Lovett finished her sentence with a soft, coaxing hand at Mr. Woodhull's cheek, and a charming smile which caused her brown orbs to sparkle. It was Mrs. Lovett's last mode of defense, and to her delight and relief, Mr. Woodhull's confused gaze swept away from Todd, and softened as it landed on her face.

" Well, you heard the lady, Mr. Todd. I'm afraid I must pass on your generous offer. Perhaps I may experience the benefits of your skill before I meet with the bank committee next week?"

Mr. Woodhull's words were aimed at Todd, but his eyes were transfixed upon Mrs. Lovett's smile. The barber's grip fell dejectedly from Woodhull's shoulder as the couple proceeded to the door.

Before disappearing from sight all together, Mrs. Lovett didn't miss the opportunity to cast Sweeney Todd a proud look of victory. It was a blatantly smug look of superiority; her laughing eyes shook Sweeney Todd to his core. The motionless barber's vacant gaze remained plastered on her face, and failed to shift its position even as the bell on the closing door rang violently with the slamming motion.

A molten flow of overpowering rage rooted Todd in place as he watched the pair stroll arm in arm down the lamp lit street. The barber stood motionless, unable to breathe or comprehend the scene that had unraveled before his eyes. A long series of moments passed before Sweeney Todd's attention became focused once again. Opening his firmly clenched fist and lowering his gaze, the barber noticed that the carving on the hilt of his razor had become imprinted within his palm.

--

The walls of each room were lined with silk damask in various shades of cream. Succulent duck and honeyed figs were served on delicately carved silverware at a long mahogany table. Lighthearted conversation took placed between soft spoken ladies, clad in all of their finery. The men downed numerous glasses of sweet amber brandy, and puffed on cigars while squabbling over the issues concerned with Parliament. After desert was consumed, the evening's activities were continued in Mr. Woodhull's living room. Lively tunes produced by the ivory keys of a grand piano prompted the guests to raise their voices in a clear chorus.

Mrs. Lovett had never experienced such a lovely evening .Initially she had been overcome by bundled nerves at the thought of mingling with the vast snobbery of the upper class. However, to her relief she was met with warm smiles and polite conversation as the evening progressed. Mrs. Lovett was most certain that she had been shown such courtesies, simply because she had arrived on Mr. Woodhull's arm. It mattered little now, for as she slowly sipped her second glass of the expensive brandy, her apprehension quickly subsided. After four pleasant hours had passed, disappointment filled her as the evening came to a close, and she bid goodnight to each of Woodhull's departing guests.

"Unfortunately, Jasper, the time 'as come for me ta be gettin' off ta bed," Mrs. Lovett muttered sleepily with a soft yawn.

The hour was growing quite late, and she had a heavy load of baking to get to in the morning before she reopened shop in a few days. Dough had run low, and it was guaranteed that there would be a fresh supply of meat to prepare upon her arrival.

"As you wish, my dear, but will you at least allow me the liberty of seeing you home? The idea of a beautiful lady alone on the midnight streets of London does not sit well with me at all," Mr. Woodhull offered in a soft tone with a kind smile.

Mrs. Lovett considered his question with a looming sense of doubt. Was it possible that Mr. T was still stalking about, waiting for the next opportunity to pounce upon poor Mr. Woodhull? Or had the depraved individual retired to his parlor for a night of habitual pacing? The vision of Mr. Woodhull's fine suit splattered with blood caused her brow to furrow with uncertainty. However, the thought of being accompanied by such an able-bodied sentry put the anxious woman at ease. Mr. Woodhull was indeed a match to be reckoned with, and the force of two outweighed the influence of one.

"I accept your offer Mr. Woodhull. Now, let's be on our way 'fore the chill of the rain catches us," Mrs. Lovett stated as she accepted Mr. Woodhull's large overcoat. Setting her coin purse inside one of the gaping pockets, she allowed her companion to place a protective hand over hers as the walk to the pie shop commenced.

--

The smiling couple passed darkened buildings on their way to Fleet Street, the avenues and quiet streets were finally free of swarming crowds. A faded silver glow, courtesy of the full moon, blanketed the sleeping city. The faint clicking of their footsteps echoed lightly throughout the alleyways, and the two silhouettes cast elegant shadows upon the cobblestones. Mrs. Lovett's eyes scanned each darkened window that they passed, in order to catch a fleeting glimpse of the pair's reflection against the glass. The baker's curious gaze appeared to be analyzing their reflection intently, as if searching for the long awaited answer to an unsolved riddle. Their conversation consisted of hushed tones and the occasional light sound of laughter.

Finally, the beaming pair arrived at the front door of the meat pie emporium. A heavy silence fell upon the couple, as their light hearted chatter diminished. Quiet breaths created soft bursts of mist against the midnight air as Mr. Woodhull's eyes gently scanned Mrs. Lovett's features, causing a delicate flush to decorate the woman's cheeks. Cradling the baker's cold hands between his large palms, and allowing a shaky breath to escape his lips, a nervous Mr. Woodhull began to speak.

" Well to begin my dear, you certainly made quite the impression tonight. In a single evening you effortlessly gained the approval of my stuffy hidebound colleagues and their obnoxious wives; a goal which has taken me months to achieve. Although, I must say that I am not surprised in the least. A woman with a quick wit and warm smile is a force to be reckoned with, and it was an inevitable fact that they would quickly succumb to your charms."

Mr. Woodhull paused and gently placed his hands upon Mrs. Lovett's shoulders. The large palms began to knead her muscles in a light massage as Mr. Woodhull continued.

"Nellie, dear, this evening exceeded every last one of my expectations. To say that I enjoyed myself would be a vast understatement. You shone brightly against the crowd tonight; one could easily liken you to an angel. As I watched you, I felt as if I was alive once more, like I could breathe again… as if my daily tasks no longer included suffocating beneath a mountain of tasks, with other people's financial well being riding on my shoulders…"

Mr. Woodhull's voice trailed off as he slowly stepped forward in order to lessen the gap between their bodies, his arms were inches away from being locked behind her back. Mrs. Lovett brought her gaze up to his honest green eyes, and attempted to allow the warmth in his embrace to drown out her troubled thoughts.

Jasper is precisely the sort of distinguished chap every woman wit a scrap a' sense dreams a' meetin…right? Wot do it matter that Mr. T is the sole inhabitant of your every thought and… BLOODY HELL, jus' hear 'im out, ya' stubborn woman.

"Believe it or not, I have a point, so I might as well make it. I realize it's more than a bit premature, but nothing would make me happier than being allowed to revel in your presence on a regular basis. Imagine all we could see and experience together, a quiet conversation over red wine, or a seaside picnic… All I ask of you is for you to graciously grant me the privilege of your time."

Mrs. Lovett allowed the depth of Woodhull's kind words to sink into her. It had been an eternity since anyone, Toby excluded, had lent her any amount of flattering words. Gradually, the stubborn nature of her biased thoughts began to subside.

"Just ponder the concept and all its potential Nellie. I have the utmost confidence in my abilities to make your wildest dreams a reality and provide you with a solid sense of stability. Eventually, the good Lord willing, we could have a life, us two."

We could have a life us two.

Those very words caused Mrs. Lovett's heart to contract violently within her chest cavity. The drumming echo of her own heartbeat in her ears transformed the remaining words of Woodhull's speech into babbling nonsense. She had once set forth an identical declaration before Mr. T, a declaration which held all the fibers of her aching heart sewn within it. Those seven simple words, spoken with undying devotion on her behalf, had been intended for Mr. T alone. The suffocating force of recollection drew a soft gasp from Mrs. Lovett's lips. The clarity of realization had once again graced her with its presence. Her intent examination of the reflection upon the darkened glass windows had absolutely nothing to dowith the fact that it had cast a portrayal of her standing beside Mr. Woodhull. Her gaze, lined with longing and discontent, had been searching for an absent Sweeney Todd.

Mr. Woodhull interpreted the soft sigh emitted from Mrs. Lovett's lips as a cue to close the distance between them. In one swift motion, the tall man brought his mouth crashing down upon Mrs. Lovett's lips. Shock and disgust flooded Mrs. Lovett as a thick tongue shoved past the barrier of her clenched teeth. The startled woman's eyes widened in surprise as an agitated flush lit her cheeks. Eager hands trailed up and down her velvet clad back, making their way to her stiffened shoulders, and finally delving roughly within the gaping border of the fabric to make contact with her bare skin. Woodhull's fingers began a slow advance towards the curve of her breast. Mrs. Lovett's anger rose steadily, and she was determined bring his offence to a certain halt.

With an indignant huff, Mrs. Lovett harshly dug her fingernails into Woodhull's hands, and proceeded to fling them away from her body with surprising force. She emitted a series of furious gasps, and hastily stepped backwards.

"Wot in the bloody 'ell makes ya think ya can lay yer hands on me in such a manner?"

At her words, a shocked and stuttering Mr. Woodhull took a step forward and began to offer an apology, "N-N-Nellie, love, I meant no harm…"

An apology which was rejected as quickly as it had been offered.

"You keep yer distance, sir. I 'ave never, in me entire life, permitted such manhandling, and I ain't about ta start tonight."

With that assertion, an indignant Mrs. Lovett dropped Woodhull's expensive overcoat at his feet, and sharply turning on her heel, she sauntered into the comforting familiarity of her shop.

--

Woodhull's eyes had caressed every elegant line and angle of Mrs. Lovett's face. His greedy hands had roved lasciviously over her slender back and exposed shoulders. That cursed, ravenous mouth, had all but devoured her delicate lips with a disgustingly gluttonous force. The scene had played out, a squalid display of savage lust, before Sweeney Todd's rage fueled gaze. The trembling barber had bore witness to the gradual rise of the flush in Mrs. Lovett's cheeks; indicating that a measure of enjoyment had been provoked by such activities. Widened brown eyes and fingers clenched tightly upon broad shoulders, further confirmed the fact that Mrs. Lovett had been a willing recipient of Woodhull's advances. Images of the dark haired woman writhing wildly beneath the panting form of Woodhull mercilessly assaulted Todd, causing the furious barber to drive a fist into the wall of the pie shop.

Sweeney Todd had remained stagnant within the closed pie shop from the moment he had failed to lure Woodhull into his shop. The pungent sour odor and fresh crimson stains of Woodhull's blood would have sent Todd into an elevated state of immeasurable satisfaction. Certainly, the sharpened edge of his razor would be the most appropriate method of ending the constant stream of supercilious chatter which spilled from Woodhull's arrogant mouth .Yet his efforts of persuasion had been in vain, and as the seething Todd witnessed the cheerful pair depart down the London streets, he felt all forms of power and control vanish with their disappearing forms.

Todd vividly recalled Mrs. Lovett on the evening which his senses and logic had so cruelly betrayed him. Signs of her arousal in the form of swollen lips and reddened cheeks, had heated Todd's blood to boiling point. Her ragged breathing and the grip of her nails digging into his shoulder blades had been evidence of the effects brought on by his kiss. The thought that another man had freely sampled the contents of the very same chalice, that another man had been capable of drawing out a similar reaction in the woman, sent searing waves of inexplicable anger and confusion through Todd.

The barber brought his pacing to a sudden halt as a new feeling began to weigh heavily on his heart; the concept of confusion.

Why was the location in which the brazen strumpet chose to harvest the seeds of her seduction of any relevance? It was beyond Todd's comprehension, as to why the sight of Mrs. Lovett squandering her affections on that silly braggart, paralyzed him with rage and a sense of being crushed internally. As for the thousands of souls which Todd had delivered to their maker, the barber viewed each man as nameless and faceless. Yet the irrelevancy associated with each victim did not pertain to Woodhull in the least bit. The gaping wound and beautiful cascade of blood from Woodhull's neck would equal genuine victory for Todd, and this concept perplexed the tormented barber. Perhaps it was due to the fact that Woodhull's narcissistic character held a likeness to that of Judge Turpin, with his condescending tendencies and blatant conceit. Or the manner in which Woodhull failed to exhibit the slightest measure of intimidation upon standing within Todd's presence.

Or perhaps it is the notion that never again, once that abhorrent man is dead and rotting, will Woodhull be able to lay his lecherous hands upon her flesh…

That single condemning truth lay before Todd, and the enraged barber had no desire to confront that particular demon. Todd's rigid fists clenched until his fingernails scraped across his flesh, drawing blood. The force of realization brought the current dilemma crashing down upon his shoulders. This being the fact that Mrs. Lovett had shamelessly permitted Woodhull's advances, and such behavior needed to be dealt with accordingly.

Todd's boots pounded furiously against the dust covered floorboards of the pie shop, as the barber took long strides to Mrs. Lovett's bedroom door. Placing a hand upon the doorknob, Todd began to slowly twist the device. The brass knob turned in one smooth motion, granting Todd the right of entrance into Mrs. Lovett's darkened bedroom.

Sweeney Todd, deeply pleased, chuckled wickedly at the fact that the baker had forgotten to set the lock in place before her departure. Sending his thumb up and down the hilt of his razor in a soothing caress, Todd's pulse jumped in anticipation.

The woman makes this task entirely too simple.

--

Hello again! If you've gotten this far, THANK YOU FOR READING! I also wanted to add a few more things before I immerse myself in Audiometry flashcards.

The link for the image of Mrs. Lovett's dress is posted in my profile, if you'd like to take a peek)

This chapter has been the most difficult to write by far. I am under major stress and pressure, and at times that causes my mind to go blank. The chapter was written in between meetings, essays, and sleep deprivation. Therefore, I really hope it flows well. Another concern I had was keeping the characters IC,and I hope I was somewhat successful.

Also, I truly hope that this didn't get too fluffy for anyone's taste, that wasn't my intention, I assure you.

This chapter has been shortened, as in the second half is going to be the next chapter. I did this because I didn't want it to go on for so long that readers got tired. Also, the next chapter contains mature content…. yeah, and I've never written any "smut" before, so I feel it needs a million revisions and re-readings before I post it.

Again, thank you for reading, it means the world to me)

Love, Chrys!