A/N: I don't like this chapter. At all. I wanted it to be very emotional, with subtle foreshadowing and I don't think I managed it, but I've been wrestling with it for a while, and I don't think I can get it any better, unfortunately. (Hangs head).

Chapter 11 – Anniversary

OoOoOoOoO

"Yes, that's right, twenty white roses." Sweeney said impatiently, drumming his fingers on the counter as the florist eyes him suspiciously, her features becoming even more pinched, so that Sweeney concluded the woman had probably been a ferret in another life. He was well aware of why she was looking at him in that way, of course – in the three days since leaving his shop in a storming temper, Sweeney Todd had barely ventured out of the small room he'd rented in an inn that made the state of the shops before Susan had cleaned them look sparkling. Even then, it had only been for necessities, such as food and water – though he had partaken of little of either. He knew that he was, quite frankly, a mess, but he didn't give a damn.

Mostly, he had thought, and thought deeply. Although his argument with Susan had been the main reason he had left, Sweeney had also had a myriad of other things on his mind of late. Most of them being to do with the petulant redhead and, more accurately, the feelings the two of them had had for each other as teenagers. Snatches of memories of better times haunted him both in sleep and his waking hours, ghosts following him relentlessly until Sweeney wondered if he would go mad. Eventually, he had realised that until he acknowledged the date, it would not stop bothering him. So, not without a little reluctance, the barber had removed the chain he had worn around his neck for the past eight years and studied the two rings on it.

They were simple, but beautiful. Both were a bright, yellow gold, and one smaller than the other, obviously meant for a woman. That one had a small, heart-shaped ruby set into it, with a smaller diamond on either side. On the inside of the band was inscribed 'Diligo est eternus' – Love is everlasting. On the other ring, the male one, there were no jewels, but instead there was another inscription on the inside. This one read 'Diligo est invictus' – Love is unconquerable. The words on both rings are almost worn away from being handled so often, whether in a glancing touch of remembrance, in a grip of a man needing a shred of comfort, or in a thoughtful caress of skin on metal as he reminisced and imagined. Sweeney Todd had purchased the rings as another man a lifetime ago, but they still meant as much – if not more – to him as they did then. He could still see her face when he proposed, could still feel the passionate kiss they had shared when she accepted, and could still remember the unparalleled thrill of sneaking away to be married on Sunday.

But now for the present. Sweeney turned his attention back to the florist, who was carefully counting out twenty pure white roses, and still shooting him the occasional odd glance. He barely repressed a smirk, wondering what she'd think if she knew why he was purchasing the flowers. He was honouring an anniversary of a marriage that for all intents and purposes had never happened, that had been between two people now dead. It was insane, but in a world that was completely mad, it seemed that insanity was now the norm.

"Would you like to include a message with them, sir?" The florist asked, having finished preparing the bouquet. Sweeney considered for a moment, and then fished the jewelled ring out of his pocket.

"Just put this in." He said, biting back a chuckle when the woman's eyebrows shot up and disappeared into her fringe. "She'll understand."

"Of course, sir." The black-haired florist plucked the ring delicately from Sweeney's fingers and attached it to the white ribbon securing the bouquet. "Will that be all?"

The barber nodded, and paid for the flowers, before carefully picking the bouquet up and taking a moment to simply admire the perfect blossoms before he exited the shop, a hesitant 'good luck' following him. Sweeney smirked at that – he would need all the luck he could get.

Rain was falling. Appropriate, seeing as today – this day that should have marked a happy occasion – was blighted by tragedy. Sighing to himself, Sweeney wondered for the hundredth time if he was doing the right thing. He was not usually a man to doubt himself, but when it came to her… all his doubts came together. Would she understand the gesture? Would she despise the reminder of what could never be? Would she rather forget the whole affair? Perhaps she already had – but deep down Sweeney knew it was as fresh in her mind as it was in his. Those memories; hated and treasured, loathed and loved, shunned and coveted. They were chasing after a life that could never be, and the beauty of it was in the dreaming…

Benjamin's hand slipped around the back of his lover's head, supporting it and angling it, his fingers intertwining with her wild auburn curls. Hardly aware of what she was doing, the redhead reached up and linked her hands around Benjamin's neck, encouraging him and urging him to kiss her. With a small smirk, he leaned in…

Those days were gone… Yet the memories still returned to plague him, pushing him to the limits of sanity, and threatening to shove him into madness. Madness born of desire, anger, longing, and so many other things.

Benjamin sat in her favourite armchair, her head resting on her shoulder. Both of them were smiling gently, and Benjamin was stroking the girl's hair, as had become his habit. It was almost second nature now, and it was like a comfort to both of them. Every so often she gave a small, happy sigh and shifted position slightly, amusingly reminding Benjamin of a cat. A wild, beautiful, confusing cat. On an impulse, he leaned in and captured her lips again.

Susan had felt sorrow settle on her like a lead weight from the moment she woke up. All through the morning, she went about her business like a woman in a dream – or a waking nightmare – as she attempted to scrape together a few more pies out of the little meat she had left. Susan realised that if Sweeney didn't come back today, she'd need to go down to the market and try and find some decent meat – the bodies were all but bare skeletons now. Even as she thought about it, the idea made Susan shake her head in disbelief. Today of all days, the first thing she thought she had of the man was that she needed him back so he could continue killing customers. No wonder he had ended up marrying Lucy.

The baker paused in the midst of loading pies onto a tray to bake in the large oven, as she felt a sob building in her chest. Hurriedly, she pushed it down, determined that the memories of a lifetime ago would not bother her. She couldn't let them – she hadn't cried when she'd been sentenced to life on Devil's Isle, she hadn't cried when she'd been whipped for the first time, her back ripped open and feeling like it was on fire. She hadn't cried when one of the officers pushed her against a wall and ripped open her dress, nor when the small girl that had been transported for stealing bread had died of blood loss after a flogging she should never have received.

If none of that could make Susan Linnet cry, then the memories of the day she should have been married most certainly were not. It had been twenty years ago, anyway – too long to weep over now. She had had her chance, and it had not come to fruition. Yet even as she struggled to keep the memories under lock and key, several seeped to the fore of Susan's mind.

Stood before the grimy mirror in her home, admiring the dress she'd spent weeks saving up for. Her hair pinned up as neatly as she could, and instead of a tiara and veil, a hair band decorated with daisies accentuated her auburn curls. Her dress was simple but pretty, the white fabric edged with blue on the sleeves, hem and neckline. As a child, she had dreamed of fantasy weddings, wearing a dress fit for a princess, and an amazing ceremony – yet now that the time came, she could think of nothing she would prefer to what would follow. Married on Sunday, just like he'd promised.

Susan closed her eyes and placed her hands over her ears, trying to block everything out, but to no avail – what was inside her mind could not be repelled.

The church bells were ringing as she approached the building, her palms sweating from nerves. She was getting married to her true love… it seemed almost too good to be true. All these years of hoping and dreaming, and now it was finally happening. Just as she was about to enter the church, a hand slipped into her own, and Benjamin was there smiling down at her.

"We're getting married." The redhead whispered, still hardly able to believe it.

"So we are." His hand toyed with a stray curl that had escaped her neat bun. For a moment it seemed Benjamin would say something more, but then he simply let go of her hand to hold her arm instead, and the two of them entered the church.

"Stop." Susan moaned quietly. "Just stop. I don't want to remember! I can't think 'bout it!"

"Should there be anyone who has cause why this couple should not be united in marriage, they must speak now or forever hold their peace." The priest finished, and since there was nobody else in the church besides the two teens, he gave a small smile and was about to continue onto the final part of the ceremony.

"Wait!" All heads turned to the door, where a blonde girl was stood, tears gathering in her eyes as she surveyed Benjamin and Nellie. "I object to this marriage! Benjamin is my fiancée."

"No, I'm not." Benjamin said hurriedly, as Nellie simply looked on in horror. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not when they were so close. "I swear, I have never seen this woman before in my life, Father – please, finish our marriage."

"Benjamin!" She was running up to the altar now, tears flowing freely. "How can you lie like that? How can you want to marry her over me? I love you."

"But I don't love you, Lucy." The brunette whispered, barely audible. Nellie felt she had to speak, or burst.

"Don't you dare." She muttered, venom creeping into her words. "Don't you dare ruin me weddin'!"

Lucy simply gave them both one helpless look, and then stepped back and sank into one of the pews, looking as though she dearly wanted to look away, but her eyes were fixed on the soon-to-be newlyweds. The priest was confused, but he seemed to have decided Lucy was mad, and he finished the ceremony as the blonde simply sat there sobbing. The two teens tried their best to ignore her as the final line was spoken.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Susan gave in at that point, and allowed tears to flow down her cheeks. Burying her face in her hands, the redhead sank to the floor, curling up as small as possible, looking vulnerable for the first time in so many years. And she was vulnerable – Susan thought that, at that moment, a baby would have been able to knock her senseless. Her damnable emotions were getting the better of her and she was powerless to stop them. Hate, love, sorrow, anger and helplessness mixed together in her mind, making her shake. Not for the first time in her life, Susan Linnet wondered if she was finally going mad.

Sweeney approached the pie shop with some trepidation, hoping against hope that Susan had not yet opened. It was still relatively early, but then Susan was an early riser, and spontaneity was as much a part of her as her hair, her eyes, and her constant chatter. However, as he drew closer to the pie shop, the barber gave the smallest sigh of relief when he saw the sign was turned to 'closed'. One small detail caught his attention and made him pause, though: two boys were sitting in the shop, eating oatmeal. One Sweeney recognised – it was the young lad who had assisted Pirelli before his death – but the other boy was older, in his late teens, and Sweeney was certain he had never seen him before. His brow furrowing in confusion, the dark-haired barber wondered what they were doing there. Was Susan taking in strays like Nellie used to?

Before he could linger on that point, the younger boy happened to glance up and spotted him, several emotions flickering on his face before he settled for a mixture of fear and something that wasn't quite anger. Deciding that he could not avoid this much longer, Sweeney entered the shop brusquely, thinking that if he was brash again neither boy would dare to so much as give him a questioning look.

"Where's Susan?" The barber demanded of the boys, who were both watching him with the careful curiosity one might view a mad person with.

"Mrs Linnet, you mean, sir?" The older boy asked, and Sweeney resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he simply sighed heavily.

"Yes, congratulations, you know her first name." He replied sarcastically. "Where is she?"

"Down in th' bake 'ouse." Toby answered quietly, averting Sweeney's eyes. "But she's th' on'y one allowed down there."

"Really." Sweeney was quite satisfied when both boys cringed slightly at his tone. In one swift movement, he dumped the flowers on one of the counters and stormed through the shop and towards the bake house, glad when stunned silence was all that was left in his wake.

He knew something was wrong as soon as he was on the first stair. Rather than the monotonous sound of chopping, or slicing, or whatever it was Susan did down here, there was a silence. No… not quite a silence – Sweeney pricked his ears and just caught the sound of heavy, gasping breathing… almost like… crying.

"Susan…" Sweeney called, descending slowly, not sure of what to expect. No answer met his words, and he wondered if she had someone injured herself. However, this possibility was eliminated as Sweeney reached the bottom step and looked around, his eyes having become somewhat accustomed to the darkness during his steady descent. The first thing that hit Sweeney was the smell, and he steeled himself before he gagged or worse. As the barber glanced around, he listened carefully and followed the sounds that were his only indication of Susan's position, walking towards what seemed to be a large table. Or counter. Probably what she cut the bodies up on.

"Susan?" Sweeney tried again, but he knew by now that the redhead was not going to reply. Even though he was blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear his vision, Sweeney was still mostly blind in the darkness of the bake house, and when he located Susan, it was only because he almost tripped over her. Fumbling blindly, the barber crouched down and laid a hand on what he thought – and hoped – was Susan's shoulder.

"W-What are you d-d-doing back?" She demanded in a watery voice after a few moments. Sweeney rolled his eyes in the darkness. Damn impossible woman, trying to sound strong when it was obvious she was still crying.

"Never mind." He replied, trying to soften his voice. "What are you crying for?"

"'M not." There was the soft rustle of skin on skin as Susan brushed the tears away. Sweeney ran a thumb across her cheek and was not surprised when it came back wet.

"Then I suppose you often sit in a pitch black bake house with mysterious drops of water covering your face." The barber muttered sarcastically, and he heard the rustling of Susan's dress as she turned to face him.

"Ain't pitch black at all, you daft man. I can see easy."

"Bully for you." Sweeney murmured almost under his breath, closing his eyes in preparation for what would follow.

"You look a mess."

"Thank you."

"…Why are you back?"

Sweeney sighed at her blatant persistence, and opened one eye – actually being able to define things a little clearer now, he decided to open the other as well, and took in the rough outline that was Susan. Slowly, he captured her chin in one hand, and pulled her towards him a little, before crushing their lips together. It only took a moment for her to react and put one arm around his neck, her fingers becoming entangled in his thick black hair, and his other arm went to her waist, pulling her even closer. Sweeney had meant for it to be shallow, for dramatization more than anything, but when Susan ran her tongue across his lips, he decided not to cut the action short.

When they finally separated, Sweeney gave Susan a smirk he knew she could see, and ran a finger down the back of her neck in a way sure to make her give a small shiver of pleasure.

"I came to see my wife, love." He murmured in her ear.

A/N: Uh, yeah, I'm putting another AN down here because I need you loyal reviewers to give me a little advice. I'm considering putting a sex scene of some sort in the near future (next two to four chapters), but I know some people don't like reading that kind of thing. So if you're opposed to that, drop me a hint. Also, if I DO put a smut scene in, it will be the first I've ever written, so it might not be much good.

Also, I will give a chocolate chip cookie to anyone who can correctly tell me the symbolism of twenty white roses