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Description
Mrs. Lovett's eyes fluttered open to the darkness of her room. The large bed she slept in shadowed the wooden floor. She sat up, tears in her eyes and sweat on her brow. She shuttered in fear, holding her knees tightly against her chest. She rested her head in her hands as she calmed, breathing heavy breaths of both relief and utter shock.

'Just another bad dream... maybe a glass of water will do me some good.'

She thought to herself, throwing the covers from her body and planting her bare feet on the wooden floor. She wrapped a dull orange robe around her cold body and stumbled through the room.
She stopped dead in her tracks when she walked by the large vanity mirror she used to be so attached to when she was younger.
   "I look terrible." She whispered, pulling back her hair and fixing it until it was suitable enough for her. She smiled. Mrs. Lovett continued on with her duties to the kitchen. Walking through the living room, she stopped to look at an unfamiliar figure. There was a man sitting on the couch, listening to the roar of a newly made fire.

'That's not Toby!'

Mrs. Lovett thought to herself, gasping as she also gazed upon the figure of a sleeping Toby on the nearby rocking chair.

'Then.. then who is it?!'

She gasped harder as the man in front of the fire turned his head around to look at her. His darkened eyes were full of emotions. Lonliness. Sadness. Longing. Anger. Frustration. Need. It was merely Mr. Todd.
   "Oh, Mr. T... you frightened me, love..." Mrs. Lovett sighed, resting her hand on her pounding heart.
   "Not originally my intention..." Sweeney answered, turning back to the fire and letting his cold face take in the warmth.
   "Mr. T... what exactly are you doing down 'ere? I thought you slept upstairs, love..." she asked him. He shrugged.
   "I got cold." Was his only answer he let escape from his chapped lips. She walked up to him and placed her hand on his shoulder, causing him to flinch slightly. She felt it. He was cold. Not just in the temperature of his skin, but the way he flinched to her touch, and the way he must have felt inside. She smirked at him, rubbing his tense shoulders gently. She noticed the way he closed his eyes as she did this. He must have been tired.
   "I could get a blanket for you, if you want." Nellie suggested. He shook his head. "You need rest..." she continued. He shook his head even heavier.
   "No.. I'm not tired... I'm not..." He tried to say as his eyes began to close again.
   "Hush, love.. hush.." She said, stopping her hands from rubbing his back, no matter how much her mind wanted to continue. She put her hand on his forehead.

'My lord.. he's like ice.. even in front of the fire... and he needs sleep.'

She thought as she noticed his dozing off again. She cocked a prominent eyebrow.
   "Wake up now, love... I've got to show you somethin'..." she grunted, lifting up his head and waking him in the process. He stood, scratching his head and yawning slightly. She waited, biting her lip with a smile. The light from the fire made him glow. Even look... beautiful.
She took his arm (which caused another flinch on his part.) and dragged him to her room.
   "Why am I in here?" He whispered to himself as she closed the door behind her. He looked at the large bed, one small window, one dresser and one large vanity mirror, his eyebrows furrowed with confusion.
   "You're gonna sleep 'ere for that night, love... In my bed..." She explained. He was deep in thought, his eyebrows still furrowed.

'Why is she doing this? And why is she still holding my arm?'..

He thought. The strange, warm, tingling sensation left by her touch remained, but when he looked down, there was no hand there to grip his wrist. Then, to dismiss the thought, still bubbling in his mind:
   "Where will you sleep?" He asked. She shrugged, turning towards him and walking slowly, her shoulder soon brushing against his. The warmth made him flinch again.
   "I'll sleep on the couch or somethin'." Nellie suggested, pulling down the covers for him. "So get comfortable... because you'll be sleepin' tonight.. whether you like it or not!" She nearly yelled as she fixed the bed. When she turned around, she witnessed him unbuttoning his bottom shirt. Her face began to feel warm.
   "You told me to get comfortable... and this is how I usually sleep..." He explained, throwing his shirt to the floor. He took off his shoes and walked towards the bed.
He had grown more muscular since 15 years ago. She remembered him as a skinny, small, flimsy man with very little fat and long limbs. Now, after the years of prison and sailing, he had grown strong. Muscles rippled as he sat down on the bed.
Nellie stood there, staring at him.
   "What?" he finally asked, a tone of harshness in his voice.
   "Nothing... just... sleep." she blurted out, refusing to leave until he had fallen asleep. He sighed, hanging his head and shaking it.

'She's so stubborn..."

He thought to himself. He fell back against the pillow and let the blankets trap him. The linens and soft blankets and quilts and fresh scents killed him inside. It felt so good. It was cold, but soon settled and grew warm after she threw the blankets and quilts over him. He breathed in the lingering scent of Nellie Lovett that had been singed into the bed after years and years of her presence. He stopped, a firm frown on his face.

'I can not think like that! I have a wife to avenge and be loyal to!'

Sweeney thought.

'But she's done so much for me...'

He allowed his senses of touch and sound to take over again. He sighed a sigh of frustration and let himself melt into the unfamiliar comfort.
   "This bed.. its indescribably perfect..." Sweeney whispered to Mrs. Lovett. She smiled.
   "Thank you!" She exclaimed, overwhelmed with happiness that he had finally given some type of compliment.
   "I haven't slept in a normal bed in maybe 15 years..." He began to explain. Her smile faded. What was she hearing?
   "After judge Turpin sent me away to the prison in Australia... I slept with the cellmates on the floor.. and if we were lucky.. we may sleep for one night on a spring bed covered with only a thin sheet of cloth... so that we didn't have to sleep on the floor with the insects and spiders and other pests..." He began. She noticed he nearly spat his last words. She looked at him with a look of complete pity on her face.
   "Then.. when I escaped... I slept on the raft for two long days.. that was Hell.. but once I was on the sailor boy, Anthony, and his fellow crewman's' ship, I and the other's slept in hammocks with pillows like rocks for us to rest our heads on... it was nightmarish.." She began to feel more one with the man before her. For weeks, all he did was sit there, like a doll. Now he was being emotional and spilling himself to her. She nearly cried with happiness as she continued to listen to his short story.
   "Then.. when I sleep here.. in my barber's chair.... Oh, it's still horrid, love... but this.. this is heaven compared to all of that..." He explained slowly, becoming drowsy as he did so. He was drifting off fast.
   "Oh, Mr. T..." Nellie whimpered, sitting next to his bedside and caressing his cheek. He smiled a genuine smile as he began to drift off.

'She always fed me when I was too hungry or focused to notice I was hungry. She's cared for me when I was ill... and she asks for nothing in return.. not even now... she really is a lady... like Toby said...'

He thought to himself, smiling blissfully as she played with his features. He still had a nagging guilty conscience in the back of his mind, reminding him of his Lucy. But for a moment, if only for a moment, he was lost in the now.

'Better'd give her something now...'

He finished. He opened his eyes to look at dark features.
   "Mrs. Lovett?" He whispered to her. She, in the process of playing with his hair, looked at him with her eyebrows raised, letting a 'hnn?' escape her throat.
   "Thank you... for everything..." He said, leaning up and kissing her lips lightly. A tingling sensation still sat on his lips as he closed his eyes. He sighed against the reassurance that she had enjoyed the moment.
She looked at him, her lips tingling from the contact. His sighing breath against her face became perfection to her. She sighed a shaking sigh.
   "Now love..." He said, interrupting her thoughts.
   "Yes, Mr. T?" She answered with an almost dumb smile.
   "Could you get off of me?" He asked. She looked down at him. She was leaning over him. Breathing on him. She was definently in his "personal bubble". She lifted herself farther from his form.
   "Oh.. sorry, love.. I'll... see you tomorrow, then?" She asked, standing and making her way towards the door.
   "Yes, my pet.. yes... tomorrow..." He whispered, drifting off to sleep on that cloud of quilts as she left the room.
That night, his once nightmarish, Lucy-filled dreams were dreams of happiness, and, surprisingly, of Mrs. Nellie Lovett, the baker downstairs.

                                                              FIN

Description
Mrs. Lovett's eyes fluttered open to the darkness of her room. The large bed she slept in shadowed the wooden floor. She sat up, tears in her eyes and sweat on her brow. She shuttered in fear, holding her knees tightly against her chest. She rested her head in her hands as she calmed, breathing heavy breaths of both relief and utter shock.

'Just another bad dream... maybe a glass of water will do me some good.'

She thought to herself, throwing the covers from her body and planting her bare feet on the wooden floor. She wrapped a dull orange robe around her cold body and stumbled through the room.
She stopped dead in her tracks when she walked by the large vanity mirror she used to be so attached to when she was younger.
   "I look terrible." She whispered, pulling back her hair and fixing it until it was suitable enough for her. She smiled. Mrs. Lovett continued on with her duties to the kitchen. Walking through the living room, she stopped to look at an unfamiliar figure. There was a man sitting on the couch, listening to the roar of a newly made fire.

'That's not Toby!'

Mrs. Lovett thought to herself, gasping as she also gazed upon the figure of a sleeping Toby on the nearby rocking chair.

'Then.. then who is it?!'

She gasped harder as the man in front of the fire turned his head around to look at her. His darkened eyes were full of emotions. Lonliness. Sadness. Longing. Anger. Frustration. Need. It was merely Mr. Todd.
   "Oh, Mr. T... you frightened me, love..." Mrs. Lovett sighed, resting her hand on her pounding heart.
   "Not originally my intention..." Sweeney answered, turning back to the fire and letting his cold face take in the warmth.
   "Mr. T... what exactly are you doing down 'ere? I thought you slept upstairs, love..." she asked him. He shrugged.
   "I got cold." Was his only answer he let escape from his chapped lips. She walked up to him and placed her hand on his shoulder, causing him to flinch slightly. She felt it. He was cold. Not just in the temperature of his skin, but the way he flinched to her touch, and the way he must have felt inside. She smirked at him, rubbing his tense shoulders gently. She noticed the way he closed his eyes as she did this. He must have been tired.
   "I could get a blanket for you, if you want." Nellie suggested. He shook his head. "You need rest..." she continued. He shook his head even heavier.
   "No.. I'm not tired... I'm not..." He tried to say as his eyes began to close again.
   "Hush, love.. hush.." She said, stopping her hands from rubbing his back, no matter how much her mind wanted to continue. She put her hand on his forehead.

'My lord.. he's like ice.. even in front of the fire... and he needs sleep.'

She thought as she noticed his dozing off again. She cocked a prominent eyebrow.
   "Wake up now, love... I've got to show you somethin'..." she grunted, lifting up his head and waking him in the process. He stood, scratching his head and yawning slightly. She waited, biting her lip with a smile. The light from the fire made him glow. Even look... beautiful.
She took his arm (which caused another flinch on his part.) and dragged him to her room.
   "Why am I in here?" He whispered to himself as she closed the door behind her. He looked at the large bed, one small window, one dresser and one large vanity mirror, his eyebrows furrowed with confusion.
   "You're gonna sleep 'ere for that night, love... In my bed..." She explained. He was deep in thought, his eyebrows still furrowed.

'Why is she doing this? And why is she still holding my arm?'..

He thought. The strange, warm, tingling sensation left by her touch remained, but when he looked down, there was no hand there to grip his wrist. Then, to dismiss the thought, still bubbling in his mind:
   "Where will you sleep?" He asked. She shrugged, turning towards him and walking slowly, her shoulder soon brushing against his. The warmth made him flinch again.
   "I'll sleep on the couch or somethin'." Nellie suggested, pulling down the covers for him. "So get comfortable... because you'll be sleepin' tonight.. whether you like it or not!" She nearly yelled as she fixed the bed. When she turned around, she witnessed him unbuttoning his bottom shirt. Her face began to feel warm.
   "You told me to get comfortable... and this is how I usually sleep..." He explained, throwing his shirt to the floor. He took off his shoes and walked towards the bed.
He had grown more muscular since 15 years ago. She remembered him as a skinny, small, flimsy man with very little fat and long limbs. Now, after the years of prison and sailing, he had grown strong. Muscles rippled as he sat down on the bed.
Nellie stood there, staring at him.
   "What?" he finally asked, a tone of harshness in his voice.
   "Nothing... just... sleep." she blurted out, refusing to leave until he had fallen asleep. He sighed, hanging his head and shaking it.

'She's so stubborn..."

He thought to himself. He fell back against the pillow and let the blankets trap him. The linens and soft blankets and quilts and fresh scents killed him inside. It felt so good. It was cold, but soon settled and grew warm after she threw the blankets and quilts over him. He breathed in the lingering scent of Nellie Lovett that had been singed into the bed after years and years of her presence. He stopped, a firm frown on his face.

'I can not think like that! I have a wife to avenge and be loyal to!'

Sweeney thought.

'But she's done so much for me...'

He allowed his senses of touch and sound to take over again. He sighed a sigh of frustration and let himself melt into the unfamiliar comfort.
   "This bed.. its indescribably perfect..." Sweeney whispered to Mrs. Lovett. She smiled.
   "Thank you!" She exclaimed, overwhelmed with happiness that he had finally given some type of compliment.
   "I haven't slept in a normal bed in maybe 15 years..." He began to explain. Her smile faded. What was she hearing?
   "After judge Turpin sent me away to the prison in Australia... I slept with the cellmates on the floor.. and if we were lucky.. we may sleep for one night on a spring bed covered with only a thin sheet of cloth... so that we didn't have to sleep on the floor with the insects and spiders and other pests..." He began. She noticed he nearly spat his last words. She looked at him with a look of complete pity on her face.
   "Then.. when I escaped... I slept on the raft for two long days.. that was Hell.. but once I was on the sailor boy, Anthony, and his fellow crewman's' ship, I and the other's slept in hammocks with pillows like rocks for us to rest our heads on... it was nightmarish.." She began to feel more one with the man before her. For weeks, all he did was sit there, like a doll. Now he was being emotional and spilling himself to her. She nearly cried with happiness as she continued to listen to his short story.
   "Then.. when I sleep here.. in my barber's chair.... Oh, it's still horrid, love... but this.. this is heaven compared to all of that..." He explained slowly, becoming drowsy as he did so. He was drifting off fast.
   "Oh, Mr. T..." Nellie whimpered, sitting next to his bedside and caressing his cheek. He smiled a genuine smile as he began to drift off.

'She always fed me when I was too hungry or focused to notice I was hungry. She's cared for me when I was ill... and she asks for nothing in return.. not even now... she really is a lady... like Toby said...'

He thought to himself, smiling blissfully as she played with his features. He still had a nagging guilty conscience in the back of his mind, reminding him of his Lucy. But for a moment, if only for a moment, he was lost in the now.

'Better'd give her something now...'

He finished. He opened his eyes to look at dark features.
   "Mrs. Lovett?" He whispered to her. She, in the process of playing with his hair, looked at him with her eyebrows raised, letting a 'hnn?' escape her throat.
   "Thank you... for everything..." He said, leaning up and kissing her lips lightly. A tingling sensation still sat on his lips as he closed his eyes. He sighed against the reassurance that she had enjoyed the moment.
She looked at him, her lips tingling from the contact. His sighing breath against her face became perfection to her. She sighed a shaking sigh.
   "Now love..." He said, interrupting her thoughts.
   "Yes, Mr. T?" She answered with an almost dumb smile.
   "Could you get off of me?" He asked. She looked down at him. She was leaning over him. Breathing on him. She was definently in his "personal bubble". She lifted herself farther from his form.
   "Oh.. sorry, love.. I'll... see you tomorrow, then?" She asked, standing and making her way towards the door.
   "Yes, my pet.. yes... tomorrow..." He whispered, drifting off to sleep on that cloud of quilts as she left the room.
That night, his once nightmarish, Lucy-filled dreams were dreams of happiness, and, surprisingly, of Mrs. Nellie Lovett, the baker downstairs.

                                                              FIN