Disclaimer: I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I do have a Wonka figurine, two pillows, the movie, the book, the book's sequel, my fanfiction, the joke book, and tons of fanart... But those are the only things I own. Everything else belongs to the rightful creators.
Story Notes: No pairings. Would be really odd if there were any. This is based on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005). The Johnny Depp / Tim Burton film. So if things don't make sence, then I apologize. Preferred for people who've seen the movie to read, for better clarity.
Rating: K - For Everyone.
Summery: History always has a habit of repeating itself...
- And Again -
A man stood with his back pressed against the cool brick wall, his feet skirting the edge of the wall that met the sidewalk, standing in the snow that piled up the edges. His purple-gloved hands smoothed down the velvety red fabric of his coat, and he leaned around the corner, fingers looping on the edge, to take a look at the people that were beginning to line up in front of the monstrous factory.
Watching with a concentrated expression, the chocolatier was sure to not reveal himself quite yet. Puffs of his hot breath in the cool air swirled above him as he examined each child that stepped in front of the large silvery gates. Thousands of people stood behind them, police officers barring them off. Oh what nostalgia. He could almost feel that moment in his past...
They were all lined up, he counted: one, two... three four... five? Where was the fifth? Ah, there he was. He saw all of their parents there; the man grinned and slipped his head back around the corner before any of them could see him or his wisps of wintry breath.
He dove his hand into his breast pocket on the inside of his coat, and he pulled out a few cards. It was best to be sure that everything was to go smoothly. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement and sadness when he pulled out those very same cards. He breathed, telling himself to get it all together, and that one could dwell on depressing things when they weren't so busy with such good things. Now was certainly not the time; he shook the thoughts out of him.
The factory was in need of new heir, that much was obvious. It was already in need of someone to help run it; that was for sure. While the newspapers said that the factory was fifty times bigger than any other factory, the facts ran horribly short of what the real reality behind the massive factory was. It still remained the same outward, a picture perfect example of what it used to be before. White glistening stonewalls, silvery gates, a polished golden W that hung on the silvery arches. Perfect. As it should have been. Inside, it was positively massive. Much larger than anyone could even imagine. Even he, having lived there for so long, still got dumbfounded at what he saw.
50 years it had stood, and it would stand for plenty more, he was certain of it. Today decided just who got to see the next age it'd pass into.
He leaned again, glancing at the children. Prospective heirs.
Ironic how history managed to play itself out again and again.
A short stout little girl stood, she had been the very first one to get a ticket. Her golden curls framed a chubby face. Chubby, not obese, he considered. Could be just her body-type, he reasoned. She was sucking on a lollipop happily. Being what he was, the man couldn't help but recognize the type, the variety and flavor of it by a mere glance. Certainly one of the two-flavor pops. Definitely. Strawberry Banana. A good flavor.
He moved his eyes from her to her mother. A wirey thin woman, looked nothing like her daughter, had stiffness in her stance and her aura. She was probably, the chocolatier concluded, a schoolteacher. Especially with the way her nose wrinkled in disgust at the place and how she smoothed the monotonous brown skirt she was wearing. He chuckled to himself at her expression of distaste, poor woman; she really didn't know what she was getting into.
He ducked around the corner when he was certain she sent an icy stare in his general vicinity. He could not risk himself being caught just yet.
He remained that way for a minute or more, so that the woman would busy herself looking somewhere else, before he peeked back around the edge to the second winner.
A tall boy. Well, a boy wouldn't really be the best way to describe this one. He seemed to be a teenager, donned in a hoodie, and overly baggie pants, his head bobbed to some tune on his portable music player that was hidden in the depths of his pockets. A teenager would certainly be a different mode of trying to go about it. Easier to teach things. But at such an age... don't they already know what they want...? He wasn't so sure that a teenager would be quite the same...
The father that was there seemed to be similar appearance wise, a big rough around the edges, but genuinely excited to be there, he saw him nudge his son once or twice, muttering to him excitedly. Odd. The father seemed more apt to be there than the son did.
The third and fourth were twins. Identical twins. He remembered when the media went crazy over them. How could he forget learning that there was two tickets found within a week of each other, and twin sisters no less? How sad, he wasn't about to pick both, and he hated the idea of giving something to one in a set of twins and not to another.
But upon looking at them closer, he realized they seemed to be very different. In fact, the two weren't even looking at each other. They stood on either side of their frazzled-looking mother, pretending the other didn't exist at all. Maybe the fact one looked like they stepped out of a computer lab, and the other out of a Goth club could have been a clue.
He felt sorry for the woman. He didn't even have children of his own and he couldn't imagine raising two children that were so different, but mostly two that never got along. He hoped that he was wrong, for her sake. She did seem to be so... twitchy.
And then there was... the fifth winner.
The last child. He breathed deeply, forming a cloud of mist.
The last, he almost didn't want to look at. He swallowed lightly and glanced at him. A small boy, so tiny and short. He knew his age, young too, but not much younger than...
The man held a light frown as he glanced over at him. A sweater wrapped around him, too big as it hung over his fingers. A scarf bound tightly around his neck. Ragged pants and roughed up shoes. The man had to look away for a moment.
It was odd how history repeated itself. Terribly odd.
He glanced back. This one... was with an old woman who he was certain wasn't a relative of the boy. No, he was positive, he was flicking through the news when he saw that the fifth ticket had been found. By an orphan boy. A little orphan boy...
He backed around the corner again, leaning heavier into the stone wall and puffed out a large breath, watching the steam blow upwards and dissipate far above his head.
So odd how it happened again.
There was a beep, and he pulled out his old worn golden pocket watch. Ah. Time to greet the guests. He shoved the watch back into his pocket, and replaced the cue cards neatly back from where they came. He certainly wouldn't need them for anything but show now, he knew all the lines off heart twice over.
He adjusted his hat, straightened his gloves, smoothed his hair, and pulled out something that resembled a cellphone. He pressed a button, and the gates came grinding open.
With a soft voice, he spoke into it, his voice resounding out, echoing off the walls of the factory and into the city that it looked down upon. "Please enter!"
The children looked up, some with awe, some with disinterest. But most were surprised at the resounding voice that seemed to come from nowhere. They stepped forward in unison with the others, as the gates closed behind them with a smooth shut, locking into place.
"Welcome, to this humble factory," Charlie Bucket spoke, fully aware of how much he sounded like his past mentor. "If you're wondering who I am..."
He pressed a button, a sad smile on his face.
"... I'm ..."
The front of the factory opened and music began to play. Time for this to happen...
Again.
Willy Wonka... Willy Wonka... The amazing Chocolatier...
And as Charlie's footsteps mashed into the snow as he went to sidle up beside the group as they watched with dumbfoundedness at the old worn, scorched puppets that sung broken melodies of an ancient tune. A scene that he couldn't help but smile at. So as he stood there, his hands knit neatly behind his back, and his foot tapped along with the broken rhythm of the beat.
Willy Wonka... Willy Wonka... Everybody give a cheer...
This was exactly how Willy Wonka would have wanted it; it was exactly as he had it.
This was exactly how Charlie wanted it; it couldn't be a more perfect homage.
He's modest, clever, and so smart; he barely can restrain it...
If only the greatest man to ever live, was still there to see him, standing there, just as he had so many years ago. If only Wonka managed to hold on a few more years, so he could to sit atop in his grand study and watch what transpired below. It was only the vision of Wonka's proud smile to his young heir that kept Charlie's smile in its place.
With so much generosity there's no way to contain it.
As the song went on, a strange feeling of pride swelled in his chest. For the first time, he truly felt like the master chocolatier that Wonka had shaped him to be. For the first time in his life, he realized, that this moment was what finally made him feel like he reached Wonka's level; 'even higher than me,' the old chocolatier would probably counter. He was so suddenly happy then, at the revelation, he could barely contain himself, his face was beaming smile.
To contain... To contain... To contain...!
Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, he's the one you're about to meet!
It was only right that in the end, he took Willy Wonka's name in its entirety. He wanted that legend of the great Willy Wonka to live on and on, forever. It was one thing that he didn't want the sands of time to wash away. He wanted history to repeat itself. Again and again.
Willy Wonka... Willy Wonka... A genius who just can't be beat...
Authors Notes: Ahh... This was much more bittersweet and sad that I orignally intended it / thought it was going to be. Not that that's bad, it's interesting. I didn't know I could write at least slightly bittersweet. All in all, this is just a one-shot. But the more I think about it, I might do more one-shots with the theme of Charlie as "Willy Wonka" (not nessisarily a sequel to this, just based on the same theme of Charlie being the one in charge), as it were. PLEASE let me know. I have bundles of ideas I could use for a short series of one-shots.
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