Rescued from the Flames

Summary: What would have happened if Toby saved Mrs. Lovett from being thrown into the oven and they ran away, only to be caught by the very person they ran to escape? Nellie and Sweeney are alive.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney Todd, so don't sue me.

Chapter One

Mrs Lovett, you're a bloody wonder,
Eminently practical and yet appropriate as always,
As you've said repeatedly there's little point in dwelling on the past!
Now come here, my love,
Nothing to fear, my love,
What's dead is dead.

Do you mean it?
Everything I did, I swear, I thought was only for the best,
Believe me,
Can we still be married?

The history of the world, my pet,
Oh, Mr. Todd, oh, Mr. Todd, leave it to me,

Is learn forgiveness and try to forget,
By the sea, Mr. Todd, we'll be comfy-cosy,
By the sea, Mr. Todd, where there's no-one nosy.

And life is for the alive, my dear,
So let's keep living it,
Just keep living it,
Really living it!

They were spinning together. She could hardly believe that it was happening. She, Eleanor Lovett, was dancing with Sweeney Todd, the love of her life, the man who was singing to her that they would always be together. It was almost too good to be true.

Nellie had barely noticed that Mr. Todd was leading her closer and closer to the open bakehouse oven, she was so wrapped up in her own euphoric dream. She was so close to the door she could feel the heat radiating from it, heating her skin to almost the point of burning. And she wasn't stopping or turning away, just continuing towards the fire.

Suddenly, a large weight lept towards the pair, hitting them with such force that they both went tumbling to the floor, the barber hitting his head on the piping-hot oven door as he fell.

With her eyes closed in shock, Mrs. Lovett couldn't see who her potential saviour was, yet still felt so much trust that she allowed them to pull her to her feet. She opened her eyes as she found her footing and gasped as she took in the figure in front of her.

"Toby!" she cried, wrapping her arms around the boy. "You're alright!"

"Mum, I'm sorry I took so long. I was packing our bags quickly, I didn't know 'e was going to try so quick. I'm sorry."

"It's alright, darling, I'm alright. Come on, we 'ave to get out of 'ere, Mr. T won't be out for very long. Let's take the bags and go, savvy?"

"Yes, Mum." he agreed, running up the bakehouse steps and pulling his mum through the door behind him.

"Hang on, darling. We should bolt the bake 'ouse, it'll give us more time to get away." cried Nellie, bolting the door firmly before following her adoptive son out of her shop, gathering their bags as they went. They had about eleven bags between them, but Nellie knew that they wouldn't be returning. She felt a slight sadness as they lumped the baggage between them, watching over her shoulder as the place she'd come to know as her home for the last twenty years fade into the night, but she knew that her life would be better for it.

"So, where we going then, lad?" she asked, turning her head from her meat pie emporium to her son.

"We're going down Blackpool. I booked the tickets for the train a few days ago, with the money you gave me for me birthday. We can find a place to stay together, proper cosy-like, and we'll 'ave made it, Mum, to the seaside!" exclaimed the young boy, smiling up at his mother.

"Yes, darling. We'll get our dream together." They then realised that they'd reached the very end of the extensively long Fleet Street. Nellie turned around one more time, staring at the place she have lived in for most of her life and had come to love as a home. She stole one last glance at her livelihood, then turned, sighing, to her only child. They rearranged their bags and linked their hands, setting off for the train station.

Neither of them saw the glinting silver reflecting from the deserted street.

A/N: What d'you think? This is my second attempt at accents, my first published one, so please tell me what you think. Not just the punctuation, all of it. Should I continue?