A/N: Here's chapter two. I have a plot for this story, but I need reviews to tell me if I should make a sequel. I'm thinking about involving adventure. This one doesn't have much of a plot, but the sequel would. Review and let me know. I'll only ask for about seven total reviews. Hint: The sequel has drama and it's about Slugworth. Remember that Noah is Charlie's father, not an OC!

"There's...well, it's hard to explain..." Noah stuttered, not sure how to tell his son.

"Willy brought someone else in," George said bluntly. His eyes showed confusion. He looked to Willy for an explanation.

"She...I found her as I was on my walk," was all he said, putting his head down. He was discouraged even though he knew deep down Noah's father would never truly accept him. Charlie was edgar to see the girl, but his mother was tending to her. He sat with his family, the subject over with for now.

Mr. Bucket made dinner in place of Mrs. Bucket tonight, and Charlie helped set the table, putting one extra plat out for this new girl. As Willy walked in for dinner that night, he asked about the girl. He knocked on the door to the bathroom.

"Yes?" Mrs. Bucket answered.

"Can I come in?" Willy asked.

"Oh, um..." she said. "How about later? We're kinda into something right now. I'm almost done, though."

"Tell her to met me on the bridge by the waterfall then," Willy said, walking away. He sat at the table, and the family ate together, save for Mrs. Bucket and Chance. The family asked more about the girl to Willy, but he wouldn't say much. He wanted to talk to her first. He heard gasps coming from the bathroom and a hurt voice. This followed with Mrs. Bucket's apologizing.

"What happened to her?" Joe's wife asked.

"I'm really not sure. I was about to come back home, but I knew I had to stay," Willy said. Charlie smiled when Willy said 'home', glad to give him one. Noah's father mumbled something (most likely insulting) to himself.

Two chairs stayed empty the entire time, until shortly after dinner, Mrs. Bucket came outside, but there was no sign of Chance. She grabbed the two plates off the table, and filled them with some more of the dinner Mr. Bucket made. She smiled, saying nothing as she grabbed silverware and headed back into the bathroom.

Willy got up from the game he was watching Charlie, his father, and the two grandmas were playing. He walked outside to the chocolate waterfall. He sat on the sugar grass; he would wait for her.

"Sorry dear," Mrs. Bucket apologized again. "Last one." She was cleaning out Chance's wounds, and she'd saved the worst one for last.

It was on her back, where the knife struck her the deepest. Chance had struggled some, for she wasn't used to the hands on her body that often. She would usually patch up her own wounds. She'd become fair at it, but Mrs. Bucket was far better. Chance figured she would have hurt herself trying to get these wounds patched. She probably would have died eventually...which was still what she wanted. But, she didn't dare voice that. It was already awkward enough in front of the family. She didn't want to bring down the mood.

"There," she said. "Now, if you didn't hear, Willy wants to talk to you outside by the waterfall."

"Willy?" Chance asked.

"The man who found you," she went on.

"Oh." She wasn't ready for that. The last time someone saved her, they didn't say a word. There was no relationship between them. Now, she heard the man who saved her wanted to talk to her.

"Well, you're okay now, girl. Go talk to him," she urged. She thanked her quietly, nervous to walk out of the room to the main room where everyone was. Mrs. Bucket walked out in front of her, and Chance hesitated. She took in a deep breath, and walked across the room.

Charlie looked at Chance not knowing who she was, but he was curious. Her eyes were only slightly open, and she didn't release their full potential, but Charlie saw her eyes. She was already a stranger. She quickly headed out the door, seeing the dark air when she walked out.

It was dark in the factory, except for a few lights that were hight atop the ceiling. She looked at the scene before her, never have seeing anything so...unique and beautiful. She took in the scent of sweet chocolate and candy. Her eyes opened, releasing her glistening eyes. A small smile came upon her face, as she only looked, consumed in fascination.

She laid her eyes on the bridge looking at the waterfall. There sat the man who saved her from the cold world. He was wearing a red jacket, black shirt underneath. His hair had a curl to it at the end, but otherwise straight. He did not face her, so she walked slowly over to him. She felt nervous, having never been taken in like this. She felt safe, yet she was stiff now with unsureness.

"You wanted to...talk with me," she began, crossing the bridge to wear he was. He looked at her, right into her eyes, which still struck him with awe. He said nothing at first, only staring at her. She was nice, now that Mrs. Bucket cleaned her up. He would not have recognized her as the same person. She looked back into his blue eyes. Her hair really was auburn.

"Oh, yes," Willy said. "Sit please." She sat next to him, but she gave him space for her own comfort.

"I just thought it would be better if we talked alone," Willy said. "I didn't introduce myself. I am Willy Wonka."

"Chance," she said, though he already knew.

"Listen, I just wanted to know more about your life," he said, and she knew he was nervous too. "Where you came from, how you got in the woods."

"Oh, well are you sure?" she asked. Her past was not your every day fairy tale. It was much worse. Not the maid, worse. She didn't do anything that would be considered fun to the family. Her idea of fun was hunting her next meal. But, she didn't have to do that tonight.

"Yes, I saved you, and I want to know what you're like," Willy told her. She sighed.

"Alright, where to begin," she pondered. She figured keeping secrets wouldn't help the situation. "I don't have a family, for starters. I've been alone every since I can remember. I fend for myself, and once I was saved from a back alleyway by a mysterious man who never said a word to me. I...um...I haven't had a decent dinner until tonight, I know how to work any blade put in my hands..."

"You...hold on," Willy said. He needed to take all this in. She didn't have a family, and she survived on her own.

"Do you have a place to live?" he finally asked, feeling sorry for her now.

"Um...do you consider the street a place?" she asked, tensing. He looked away from her, thinking about how horrid her life must be. This was almost unfathomable to him. He came back to look at her.

"How did you get to be in the woods?" he asked. She hesistated. That was too much.

"I'm...can we talk about something else?" Chance asked. Willy saw she wasn't ready to talk about it. He wouldn't press the matter for his own curiosity.

"If you don't mind me asking," Willy said then. "Your eyes..."

"Oh," she said. "I don't know much about them. They are the strangest color, and I don't know where they came from, for I don't know my parents."

"I'm sorry," he said randomly.

"Why?" she asked.

"This must be weird for you, being here in a large factory with a family you don't know. I apologize, but you have no place to live," he began, and Chance took that the wrong way.

"I get it," she said. "You don't want me here. I'm intruding I know. I'll leave." She got up to go. She'd disregard everything. She'd go back to her old life, forget anything ever happened. Yet, she'd gotten her hopes up, and she knew she shouldn't have.

But, Willy didn't want her to leave. She had nowhere to go...

"No, don't go," he said, making her stop as she came to the end of the bridge. "You're not intruding at all. This is my doing. You've nowhere to go...Please stay." Chance stood there, speechless. Willy was asking her to stay with him. Her, of everyone in town. She was nothing but a street beggar, like that man said. She didn't turn around, afraid to look in his eyes, fearing what his face looked like at this time. Now was not the time to get attached. Chance sighed.

"Okay, I'll stay," she said. "But, answer me this." She turned around, seeing his face filled with an apologetic look. Instantly, she looked away. "Why do you care?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Why do you care about me?" she asked, a little angry. "No one does." He looked flabbergasted as this statement. What was she talking about? was all he could wonder. No one cared for her?

"No one?" he repeated questioningly.

"I believe that's what I said," she replied, turning fully around.

"You've been on your own for so long, and no one ever showed you some good?" he urged her, hoping for some good news. Chance sighed again, annoyed, but Willy didn't catch this.

"The world is not a nice place," she said. "I would have thought you would know that, but I see you've never been on the streets." He shook his head, unsure of how to react to this. Her conditions were unimaginable to him (which wasn't normal). He wanted her to stay even more, but he hadn't any idea as of to what she was going through.

The item she'd lost yesterday was the most important to her. It was her only fur pelt. A fox, so rare. She'd learned to skin the animal, and was planning on selling it in town. It would have been money. This was the who knows how many time she was trying to make a living, but nothing was working. She'd stolen, she'd plundered, she'd even tried an honest living. Nothing worked. She'd always run into trouble somehow. There was someone after her all the time. She'd been through too much, goodness was a word she'd scarcely would use. It was a word almost nonexistent to her.

"No, but it looks awful around here," Willy said. He doesn't know the half of it she thought. To be bluntly honest, this was one of the better streets she'd seen in all her days. This was her best living space. "As for your question...I care because your life has been so horrible. I would like to change that."

"Why me? You could have taken anyone else in, there's plenty to choose. Why me?" Chance asked.

"I found you," he said simply, not sure of what else to say. He wanted to see her eyes again, they mesmerized him so well. They were intriguing to him, but not in a bad way. He liked her eyes.

He walked closer to her, not sure of how she would react. She made herself sound like nobody had been near her in some time. He came a few feet when she turned back around in a warning stance. It was her instinct, thus she relaxed after she knew she was okay. Her eyes met his, and he stood still. Perfectly still.

"Sorry," she said, but quietly. She never had to say it, but now she felt she had to. He didn't say anything for a few moments.

"Your eyes are...the most...beautiful thing I have ever seen," he chocked out. Chance had no idea how to take this. She was taken aback by his comment. There had never been anyone who told her a part of her was even pretty. Heck, her hair was longer than anything, almost brushing against her back shin and before, it was dirty. Her eyes were the strangest green color. Not glowing, but piercing and let off some light. They weren't called anything but strange. And the looks she'd gotten from everyone else had given her the impression her eyes were just another hideous feature. But, she knew now that Willy Wonka wasn't 'everyone else'.

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I just said your eyes are...beautiful," he said with more confidence that time. She took a quick breath, trying to register it.

"Oh...thank you," she said before she walked away.

She didn't know where she would go, figuring she would just get lost. So, she went outside, a tear escaping her eye. He'd said her eyes were beautiful, but she'd been wishing she were dead.

The comment lingered in her mind as she drew her knife. The cold bit at her skin. With the clothing she wore, it wasn't enough to shield her from the bitter winter. Chance was taking her largest chance in a long time. She brought her knife to her arm. She cut her left forearm until it bled...a lot. She was so confused. The red liquid poured out of her, but she hadn't hurt herself at all. She was used to pain. No main nerves were damaged. She knew the scares would be left behind, but she didn't care. She brought it down, ready to stab her wrist...but she didn't. Her curiosity for this chocolatier delayed her longing want. But, she thought. Do I still want that?

A/N: Chance is NOT emo, I promise. She's just releasing her emotions in the most "appropriate" way possible. The next chapter focuses more on the romance part, but there will be more to this!! Just give me time.