So, this is the last chapter, which turned out to be pretty long. The ending's a little fluffy, but all in all, I'm pretty happy with how it's turned out. Thanks to andaere for reviewing.

Mrs Lovett was still awake, kneading dough for tomorrow's pies when she heard the bell on the shop door jangle. She looked up, about to explain to whomever it was that they were closed now, and to come back in the morning, but the reprimand died in her throat when she saw that it wasn't a misguided customer who had entered her shop. Mr Todd, his eyes dully glittering in the moonlight, stepped into the shop and shut the door behind him. Blood was drying on his sleeves, and flecks of it were visible in the white shock of his hair.

Mrs Lovett stepped away from the counter. Something in his expression made her nervous. She gestured with a floury hand to his blood shirt. "Need me to wash that for you, Mr T?"

"No." He poured himself a glass of gin from a bottle on the shelf.

Mrs Lovett frowned. "Did you come here for a pie, then?"

"No." He sat down at the table by the window.

The woman put her hands on her hips. "Well what do you want then, love?"

There she went again. Asking simple questions that still managed to cut him as deeply as any razor. A humourless smile twisted his mouth. "I wish I knew," he whispered.

"What's that now?"

Sweeney's eyes snapped back to the face of Mrs Lovett, his brief moment of self-contemplation behind him now. "Demons, Mrs Lovett." His eyes bored into her with such single-minded intensity that the baker couldn't help the prickle of fear she felt on the back of her neck.

"S-sorry?"

He stood again, too agitated to remain in his chair. "Nightmares. Last night, you told me you had demons in your head… You asked me if I had them too."

She brushed a strand of hair away from her face, too distracted by his burning eyes to fully listen to what he was saying. "Did I? I don't"-

What little self-control the barber had been holding together fell apart then. He crossed the room in two swift strides, and with one hand, pinned Mrs Lovett against the wall by her white throat. Mr Todd's breathing was as laboured as if he was the one being strangled, and his words came grouped between heavy gasps. "How… do you know… what I dream of? What do… you know… about demons?" He spoke the last word as a curse.

She tried to reply, but all her crushed windpipe could emit was a pitiful rasp. Her pulse was going like mad against Sweeney's hand, and at that moment, he wondered if he might slit her throat. The thought of seeing her blood pooling on the floor made him smile, and he reached for the razor at his hip, never looking away from her terrified brown eyes, which were quickly going dull from lack of oxygen. But suddenly, her eyes weren't brown anymore. They were blue. Her tangled dark hair was yellow, falling in smooth curls around her pale face. Lucy!

With a cry, Mr Todd fell back, staring at his own traitorous hands, horrified at what they had almost done. Lucy… But when he looked up again, all he saw was Mrs Lovett, her chest heaving, still pressed against the wall, afraid to move. He collapsed back into the chair, shaking, bringing up his hands to cover his face. He had been so sure it was Lucy…

As her tenant fell back into his chair, Mrs Lovett let out a shaky breath, relaxing against the wall. But then, as he buried his head in his hands, her eyes swam with sudden tears of pity for the man whose fingers had been clamped around her neck mere seconds ago. She knew she shouldn't feel sympathy for him, but it was impossible for her to look on him, her Mr Todd, without her heart melting.

Slowly, she approached him. He let her draw his hands away from his face. They were as dry as paper. "Mr T, love," she whispered gently, "what's wrong?"

"I keep seeing them," he muttered. He didn't meet her eyes, and she wondered if he had even heard her question, or if he had already forgotten her and was just talking to herself. "The judge, Johanna, my Lucy… they visit me… every night and I… I can't sleep. I can't close my eyes." He lapsed into silence, his eyes still burning a hole in the wall.

Mrs Lovett sighed, knowing that she no longer existed to him. Mr Todd might have been alone in the room for all he was concerned. But, for some reason, his silence invited her to speak, to tell him all of her nightmares too, though she knew he wasn't listening.

So she opened mouth, and she poke. She spoke about her nightmares, how the faces of the dead haunted her, wouldn't leave her alone. She spoke of the horror of butchering another human being, of how she thought that rivers of blood were running through the streets of London, and nothing she could do would stem the flow, of how she was so tired, and now all she wanted to do was sleep. But she couldn't She couldn't sleep anymore.

All the time, Sweeney's dark eyes remained steady on the wall. Mrs Lovett stared unabashedly at him, his profile rimmed in white moonlight, his eyes black pools she could fall into. The sight of him made fire bloom in her chest, while the rest of her went cold. Her voice, previously on the verge of hysteric as she had poured her heart out to deaf ears, was quiet now as she continued. "But I'll keep going." She couldn't look at him now, so she stared at the floorboards under her feet. "I'll keep going for you, Mr T. I… I'll do anything for you."

For the longest time there was silence, and Mrs Lovett's faint hope that maybe he really had been listening was gone. Then, "I'm sorry, Mrs Lovett."

The baker breathed in until she thought her lungs would burst. When she looked up h e was still staring at the wall. Perhaps she had imagined it. "What?" All the breath left her body on that word, and it sounded more like a sigh than a question.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Lovett." Though no hint of emotion flitted across Mr Todd's face, Mrs Lovett's heart soared. It was as though he'd said he loved her. Before she could think better of it, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to her beloved barber's. He didn't pull away, but nor did he kiss her back. He just sat there numbly and let it happen. Mrs Lovett was about to draw back, cheeks flushed with embarrassment at this rejection, when suddenly, the pressure on her mouth was returned with such passion that she was caught off-guard, nearly falling backward off her chair. But Mr Todd caught her and pulled her back up to him. His mouth firmly against hers, her mind swirling with impossible joy, Mrs Lovett found herself in the arms of a demon, but somehow, she didn't find it so bad.

The End.