A/N: So this is a little idea I wanted to play around with; it's a two-part oneshot, one taking place before Barker got sent away and one taking place during the final scene sequence. I hope it makes sense! As always, reviews and constructive criticism are always looked for (:

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Mrs. Lovett stands in front of the table, meat cleaver in hand, as she hacks away at the decimated body of what seems to have been some animal. She digs the sharp blade in, letting it sink between bones, to loosen the meat and wrest it off the carcass. It's cheaper this way, to butcher it herself, and lord knows she needs any money she can salvage. Sweat trickles down her back as her muscles protest against the work, but she's used to it. It calms her and lets her take her frustrations out on something futile, something she won't regret in the morning. And it's an escape from Albert. He means well, but Nellie can't stand even looking at him any more. His weight repulses her, the way his stomach hangs over the front of his trousers and how the fat jiggles when he walks. She can picture his double chin, bouncing as he gorges himself on another pie and then another, meaty fingers shoving crumbs and chunks into his mouth, missing half the time and leaving food dribbling down his face and on his shirts.

Swallowing, Mrs. Lovett hacks into the meat again, forcing the thoughts from her mind. She rips a portion from the bone, tossing it into the grinder and wiping her bloody palms on her apron. Auburn tendrils cling to her forehead and the back of her neck, pasted there with a mixture of sweat and flour and blood, and for what is not the first time she wishes she could look pretty like Lucy in everything she does. Mrs. Barker always glows, no matter what she is doing. Her hair always falls like silk around her face, framing her bright blue eyes and rosy cheeks and bright pink lips. Even when she is crying, she is beautiful. And it is no wonder Mr. Barker prefers her over Nellie, who can never quite wash the flour off or keep the tangles out of her hair or get rid of the red stains on her dresses from her amateur butchering.

Tears sting her eyes and she wants to slam a fist on the table, to hurl the cleaver at the wall and overturn the table and rage until she feels better, but she doesn't. Instead, she wipes at her eyes and blinks away the grit, clenching her teeth and slamming into the meat again. Now, she simply wants to finish the job so she can lie with Albert and pretend to sleep until he has drifted off and she can pull herself out of his arms and rest on the settee for a while. She has been down her for hours already she knows, but Albert does not care. He does not look for her, laziness and indifference clouding his judgement. But that's nothing new. Nellie prefers it this way, so she doesn't have to be subjected to her harsh reality every day. In the privacy of the bakehouse, she can spin fantasies around her where she can dance and twirl like Mrs. Barker, where her hair isn't tangled auburn but silky gold, where she can almost feel his arms around her.

Only when gentle hands pry the meat cleaver from her hands does Mrs. Lovett realize she has let the tears spill. She hiccups, wiping hastily at her eyes with the back of her hand before turning to face not Albert Lovett but Benjamin Barker. Shock dances through her body mingled with embarrassment that twinges her cheeks red.

"Mr - Mr. Barker!"

Her voice is falsely cheery, hysteria edging its way in with a thickness neither she nor Benjamin can deny. His eyes are grave and a sad smile plays on his lips as he places the knife down on the table and just looks at her. Mrs. Lovett is frozen, unsure of what to do now, never having imagined that he would find her here, in her most private place, in one of her most private thoughts, but he is here and she is almost glad. And yet she cannot make herself move, cannot make herself explain herself, but somewhere she knows he understands.

He pulls her to him, his arms surprisingly strong, and she stifles a sob, resting her head on his shoulder. Mr. Barker leads her slowly away from the table and they walk together, almost a dance, never breaking contact. His hand finds its way to her hair, her tangled mess of curls, and he strokes it softly. His tenderness makes new tears spill down her cheeks, surely staining his crisp white shirt, but Benjamin says nothing, only murmuring soothing words.

After an eternity, she pulls back, her eyes ringed and red, and Benjamin looks at her. She opens her mouth, frantically trying to think of something to say, some lie to tell, to say she's fine, that she was thinking about her daughter, anything, but Mr. Barker cuts her off.

"You don't need to explain," he says, and somehow these few words comfort her more than anyone ever has.

He pulls her close again, and Mrs. Lovett closes her eyes. It's too easy to pretend he is hers, that she is graceful like Lucy and beautiful and happy and that all her dreams are reality. And she decides that for tonight she deserves this. So Nellie pulls herself out of his arms for a moment, looking up into his warm brown eyes.

"Will you teach me to dance?"

His brow furrows, and her heart skips a beat. "I just...I've seen you goin' with Lucy an' I've never learned so I thought..."

He cuts her off by moving one of his hands to her waist, clasping hers with the other, and lifting their arms. "Here," he says softly, shrugging a shoulder. She places her hand on it, and they move slowly at first, step by step, and Mr. Barker murmurs to her as she struggles to keep tempo with the music in her head, but he is patient and kind and she is eager. Soon they are spinning, spinning through the cellar, and Mrs. Lovett likes to think his breathless laugh is the last sound she will ever hear.