Caught Somewhere in Time

Betrayal

26th October 1887

Sweeney Todd ran down the stairs as fast as his feet could carry him upon hearing Mrs. Lovett's horrific scream, his heart hammering in his chest at the thought of her being in danger. He usually ignored those feelings, ignored the possibility that he was beginning to care for someone that wasn't Lucy; for none other than the annoying chatterbox that lived downstairs, his devout business partner and his ardent lover. But now that the judge was dead... maybe he could give her a chance.

He swiftly opened the metallic door of the bake house, only to find an agitated Eleanor Lovett dragging the corpse of the judge to the oven.

"Why did you scream?" Sweeney asked, concern lacing his deep voice.

"He was clutching onto me dress but he's finished now" she replied and offered him a playfully evil smirk before returning to her task at hand, pausing every few feet to catch her breath.

Sweeney observed her. She looked tired. The bags under her eyes were darker and her skin was paler than usual except for her flushed cheeks due to her proximity to the blazing oven. He sighed, knowing fully well that the last steps of his revenge had taken a toll on her too and he'd just noticed now. Although he'd woken up to her vomiting for a few days, he just assumed it she was anxious and let it be. Now as he watched her stop dead in her tracks to pinch her nose with her knees slightly buckling as if she were going to faint, he wasted no time in rushing to her side. Her health was important to him, especially now that she was the only one left. The one who would never leave him.

"I'm here" he whispered reassuringly as he wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her. He walked with her to the nearest wall, and leant against it, his arms still around her. He saw her take deep breaths with her eyes closed and fearing she would pass out right there, he asked her whether she would like to go upstairs and lay in bed for a while.

"No need, love. It was just a dizzy spell, it's bloody hot down here" she replied calmly and finally opened her eyes. What he saw in them unsettled him. It was love, love in the deepest, purest form. "But thank you for caring, dear."

"Of course" he simply said, hypnotised by her big chestnut eyes that glowed in spite of the dim light. He gulped, it was too early for those feelings and he wasn't ready. He wasn't sure he would ever be ready to love again, but he couldn't deny the warmth in his chest and the quickening beat of his heart as his own eyes met the baker's. She was so damn alluring and he was always hungry for her. But this time, it felt different. He'd never wanted to kiss her more.

A rat running in the sewer below them broke the spell and Sweeney was quick to avert his gaze. There were more pressing matters at hand than his confusing feelings that were probably just the heat of the moment, the adrenaline of having finally killed the judge. Nothing more. Speaking of the judge, he reckoned they had to get rid of his body as soon as possible, as the authorities would come searching for him in a matter of hours. Seemingly reading his mind, Eleanor disentangled from his half embrace and walked over to the judge to continue what she was doing. But Sweeney stopped her before she could grab his arms again.

"Here, let me do it" he offered and she attempted to protest but he roughly grabbed her arm and she relented. "Open the door" he pointed to the oven and lifted the cold dead arms of the man who ruined his life. As he dragged his victim to meet his ultimate end, Sweeney stepped on something soft and fleshy and looked down to see the corpse of the beggar woman he'd killed in a haze before the judge arrived. Looking properly at her now, he could see something familiar. With his foot, Sweeney moved her matted grey hair out of her face, and he was speechless. He'd recognise that face anywhere. "Lucy."

He hastily dropped the judge and knelt beside his beloved, cradling her head in his arms. "Lucy, Lucy, my love, Lucy. What did I do?" he lamented, his tears pricking his eyes for the first time after fifteen years of numbness. How could he not recognise his own wife? The love of his life, the single reason his heart was still beating? And now she laid dead by his own hand. But he'd thought Lucy was already dead, she told him she was dead. Holding the lifeless body of his wife, he turned to look at the baker. Her hand over her heart, her eyes wide in fear, she knew exactly what she'd done. She knew Lucy lived and chose to lie to him. Lucy's blood was on her hands.