"Tobias." Razor in hand, Sweeney stood tense over a customer. "Go fetch a clean towel for the gentleman. There will be some in the back room." The boy sat on the trunk that had once held his master's body, his crutches propped on the wall beside him. It had become his favorite perch since his healing wound prevented him from helping Mrs. Lovett in her shop. And since, too, it had seemed a relief to maintain a little distance between himself and the baker. Not that the first weeks with the demon barber weren't awkward in their own cold, silent way, but it seemed preferable to living in the aftermath of his confrontation with his mother.

"Yes, sir." He eased himself off the trunk's smooth-worn lid, taking up his crutches, and limped to the door in the back of the shop. He shut it loudly enough to be sure Mr. Todd could hear it close, then hobbled into the dusty room. There were no towels, only the decrepit remains of a bedroom. It had once been the barber's, or perhaps the man's who had rented the flat before him. Now only Toby used the neglected bed. He sat down on it to wait. That was the only reason he had been sent away, to wait out of sight while Sweeney polished off the man in the chair. He could still hear it though, and listened a little guiltily to the gurgling, the spray of blood, the mechanical chorus of the tilting chair. He waited.

By the time the boy returned, the blood had been mopped up and Sweeney stood, looking blankly out his grimy window. He had found since Johanna's rescue that the satisfaction that followed a kill was gone. It felt as though he had suddenly lost momentum, lost the purpose that drove him on. Killing, breathing, living was only a habit, and he suddenly felt so sickeningly tired.

In the courtyard below, Mrs. Lovett dashed to and fro with a platter of hot pies. She had to work harder now, without Toby. Johanna, she had told him, was shy of the chattering crowd. She appeared now, his angel, bringing a mellower group of women their orders. Sweeney had noticed how she was only sent to the quieter tables, always moderately dressed and kept away from the young bloods he saw eying the baker. He knew Nellie was looking out for her, choosing her work carefully, and he was grateful.

He shifted his weight and fingered the razor in his belt. It was almost shameful that his landlady was still taking care of the poor thing after he'd been gone those fifteen years and now finally had her back. But a coward part of him stopped dead at the thought of meeting her, speaking to her. It was just so strange. He watched her retreat into the pie shop, glancing nervously around her. It must be strange for her, too.

Behind him, he could hear Toby hobbling slowly back to his seat on the trunk. The boy was a constant reminder of his own kindness, a ghost of a part of him he had thought long dead. He turned to watch his faltering path.

The boy had very nearly died himself, had laid weak and silent for days. Now he limped, and tired quickly, but he was healing. Maybe… "How…" He struggled to make the simple words come out, fought to feel them. "How is your leg?"

Toby looked up, surprised. "It still hurts, sir, but not as much now. Thank you, sir." Sweeney nodded and turned away. Maybe not yet.

XXXXXXX

Mrs. Lovett sighed as she bustled back through the door of the pie shop. Her legs were aching, making her miss Toby's help. Johanna was overwhelmed by the crowds outside, and no wonder, the poor thing. Only the thought of what the girl had told her about life with the Judge was enough to make her skin crawl. At least she could put that behind her now, unless perhaps living in the past ran in her family.

The blonde stood behind the counter rolling pie crust, looking up as Nellie entered, her eyes wide and uncertain, but she calmed again quickly. She was improving. Giving her an encouraging smile, the baker sank gratefully onto one of the kitchen stools. "Running myself to nothing out there, Johanna. My poor bones is aching something awful." She was glad, resting in the silence, that she had chosen to keep customers out of the actual store for Johanna's sake.

"Would you like me to…?" Her voice was worried, but she lay down the rolling pin, ready to help. As delicate as she seemed, she was a brave girl.

"No, dear, it's alright." Leaning back, Mrs. Lovett peered through the lacy curtains at the hordes of customers. "I have a good mind to close early. What do you think?" Johanna nodded, smiling. As plain as it was the poor girl was relieved, Nellie couldn't help admiring her Todd-like restraint. Perhaps she did take after him.

Johanna hadn't seen the barber since they left that awful house. The baker herself had hardly seen more of him. That was partly because of Toby, but now she longed for their company. She longed to take the leap from delivering their meals and fleeing the possibility of the boy's unforgiveness to being family again, to make her hand the one Sweeney would hold as he took the same dreadful steps with Johanna. "Maybe we'll make a nice supper. Something special." She paused. "For the four of us." Looking up, she saw Johanna frozen behind the counter, her pretty gray eyes fixed uncertainly on her guardian. She was afraid, but slowly crept a smile across her pale face, small but genuine.

Mrs. Lovett smiled back. Tonight would be the night.

XXXXXXX

Johanna couldn't help remembering, as she climbed the old stairs, the horror she had felt as she last ran up those steps, couldn't force herself to open the doorknob just yet. The memories of Anthony's death were still too fresh. But she had to go in. She knocked softly.

"Come in." She had heard that gruff voices in snatches through Mrs. Lovett's ceiling but her heart jumped as it spoke now to her. With shaking hands, she opened the door, her breath catching as she crossed the threshold.

Inside, the shop was dark and run down, but it was clean and its two inhabitants working quietly. The barber, her father, looked up in faint alarm as she entered. "Johanna…?" She let her eyes rest on the gaunt white face, the white-streaked black mane, the sunken, shadowed eyes of the man who had been both the her nightmare and her escape to safer dreams.

"Mrs. Lovett closed the shop early." The flesh beneath the girl's eyes, too, was beginning to darken. Sweeney frowned, worrying. "She thought we all might take supper together." His frown deepened as he turned away, winding his fingers nervously in the rag hanging from his belt. Beneath the wide window, he saw the tables in the courtyard were already starting to clear. It was too late to tell the baker to wait. He wasn't certain, anyway, he would have wanted to. But neither was he sure he could sit at the table with the daughter whose life he missed, whose love he killed, who he heard singing quietly late at night beside the oven that had burned that love, Sir, I did love you even as I saw you, Even as it did not matter that I did not know your name…

On the edge of his sight, he saw a careful movement. It was her, standing at the corner of the glass looking out. Cautiously, she glanced up as him.

"This is a nice window." Her voice was soft, almost faint, and beautiful like her mother's. The barber felt like he was being strangled. "If I had to be shut behind a window again, I'd want a big one like this."

The corner of his pallid lips tugged up almost imperceptibly. He nodded, looking at his daughter. "Let's go."

XXXXXXX

Nellie felt as though the pounding of her heart might shatter the whalebone stays of her corset as she heard the footsteps coming down the stairs. Throwing the last of the silverware onto the ready table, she hurried to the door to see them coming down the stairs. The sight made the throbbing in her breast swell with emotion.

His boots heavy on the old wood, Sweeney Todd, her Sweeney, stepped steadily down with Tobias in his arms. Johanna came behind him, carrying the boy's crutches. They were an awkward, solemn trio, but they were together, and they were hers.

Mr. Todd's expression was grim and unsettled, but there was something less dangerous about him, something softer. She wanted so bad to touch him, to find out if he would hear her now. But Toby, staring at her from the barber's hold, stopped her, made her afraid to stir. She stood deer-like, quelling the trembling in her fingers, as the somber party came towards her, close enough to touch. And saw, in the boys eyes, fear, regret and hope.

They shared a smile, and she flung her arms around the boy and barber both, releasing them only for a second to draw Johanna in as well. She could have cried. Instead, she forced herself to let go and bustled the broken family, whole, inside.

XXXXXXX

So, I have good news and bad news for everyone who wanted the story to continue. And thanks, by the way. It's very kind of you.

The bad news is that this was supposed to be the end when I planned it out originally. The good news is that I've been working on a plan to extend the story that I'm fairly happy with. The thing is, I need your opinion on something.

D'you remember, back in the Author's Note before Chapter 1, I said you could think what you like about whether Lucy was dead or not because it wouldn't matter? Well, in the original plan it didn't. But the new part of the plot will depend on our friendly beggarwoman. So, if it would throw you off or bug you if she just miraculously reappeared after you thought she was dead, or even if you think I'd better just let well enough alone, please let me know.

Please leave a review, or vote in the poll on my profile page thing, or even send me an email if you like. Whatever works for you. I just don't want to mess up a story I am very happy with.

Thanks very much for reading, folks.