A/N: I am going somewhere with this. I swears.

About an hour later, the storm showed no signs of letting up. Charlie and his mentor had abandoned the dust angels and were standing in the center of the Invention Room, staring up at the everlasting gobstopper machine.

The machine had shut down without warning, leaving Willy Wonka rather upset and Charlie rather puzzled. Two Oompa Loompas had set up ladders on opposite sides of the machine, but so far, they hadn't figured out what was wrong.

"I was hoping to put the gobstoppers into production by the end of the year," Willy Wonka muttered, pacing up and down. "It can't stop working now, it just can't."

"The Oompa Loompas will fix it, won't they?" Charlie asked.

"Of course they won't!" Willy Wonka said, shaking his head. "I designed it; I'm the only one who knows how it works."

"So you're going to fix it?"

"I'm going to find out what's wrong first," Willy Wonka said. "Then I can fix it." Hearing him, the Oompa Loompas climbed down the ladders and scurried off.

"May I help you?" Charlie asked.

"No," Willy Wonka replied. "It's-" he paused. "It's dangerous." Charlie had never heard Willy Wonka use the word "dangerous" before.

"If it's dangerous, then I should help," Charlie said.

"No you shouldn't," Willy Wonka retorted. "You could get hurt."

"So could you," Charlie pointed out.

"Okay, okay," Willy Wonka relented. "But," he said, sounding unusually serious, "you need to do exactly what I say, okay?"

"Okay," Charlie said.

"Right." Willy Wonka began to climb up the ladder. "Climb up the other ladder," he called. Charlie did so. The ladder hadn't seemed that high when he was on the ground. When Charlie got to the top, Willy Wonka opened a small panel at the side of the gobstopper machine and looked around.

"Charlie, press the green button." Charlie found a row of different colored buttons just above his head and pressed the green one. Something inside the machine popped.

"Oh, Bob Saget!" Willy Wonka pulled back a lever and reached still further into the gears.

"What?" Charlie leaned around the side to look.

"Something's stuck in the gears." Willy Wonka pulled another lever and ripped out a handful of torn wires. "Press the red button." Charlie pressed the red button. The machine sputtered. A few sparks showered down from the top.

"Mr. Wonka?" Charlie bit his lip.

"I've nearly got it." Willy Wonka was in the machine up to his shoulder. "I think it's an orange gobstopper."

"Mr. Wonka, won't the machine start up again when you take the gobstopper out?" Charlie asked.

"Oh, yeah…" Willy Wonka frowned.

"Maybe we could reach a pole in or something," Charlie suggested.

"No we couldn't," Willy Wonka snapped. "If I let go now, I might lose it." A terrible grinding sound rose up from deep inside the machine and sparks sprayed from the seams. Charlie had to duck to avoid them.

"Charlie, get down," Willy Wonka ordered.

"But-"

"Get down." Willy Wonka repeated. "Do as I say." Charlie climbed down the ladder. It seemed like the machine was ready to explode. Charlie stood back and watched Willy Wonka. His heartbeat was in his ears. Suddenly, Willy Wonka pulled his arm out. The machine roared to life. Charlie was certain that his pulse would break through his skin. But a second later, Willy Wonka had jumped off the ladder and landed gracefully on the floor.

"That was a close one," he said, adjusting the brooch at his throat. Charlie's breath returned.

"I thought-" he began, but then he noticed the cut on Willy Wonka's left hand and his breath left him all over again.

"What?" Willy Wonka looked completely puzzled. "Charlie, you look kinda pale." Charlie couldn't speak. Willy Wonka lifted his hand and examined it. "Oh."

"Let me look at it." Charlie's voice shook. Willy Wonka held his arm out to Charlie. His glove was slit across the palm, as was the skin beneath it. The cut ran down the inside of his forearm and stopped a few inches from his elbow. It was not bleeding.

"Huh." Willy Wonka raised his arm and flexed his fingers. "I guess I wasn't fast enough." Charlie could see the tendons moving. He felt sick.

"Oh my God." Charlie's heart began to hammer in his throat. "Oh my God. Doesn't it…doesn't it hurt?"

"What?" Willy Wonka closed his hand into a fist. "No."

"I'm going to get help," Charlie said hoarsely.

"Why?" Willy Wonka asked curiously.

"Because you could die!" Charlie felt an unfamiliar panic rising inside him. "You need stitches, or-or something!"

"I'll be fine, Charlie," Willy Wonka said reassuringly. "I'll have an Oompa Loompa take care of it."

"A bloody Oompa Loompa?" Charlie gasped. "What do they know?" Willy Wonka looked offended.

"A lot, I'll have you know," he sniffed. "They're quite good at stitching."

"Bloody hell," Charlie murmured.

"You don't look very well," Willy Wonka said. "Do you want to sit down?" Charlie nodded and practically collapsed on the floor. Willy Wonka sat beside him, looking concerned. Charlie took a few deep breaths and looked at the cut again. It was bleeding, but not very much.

"Doesn't it hurt when you cut yourself?" Charlie asked. "Like, if you got a paper cut?" Willy Wonka shrugged.

"Well, yeah…"

"So doesn't that hurt?" Charlie pointed to the gash. Willy Wonka ran his finger down the length of it.

"I guess."

"You guess?" Charlie repeated weakly. "Mr. Wonka, I don't understand. I don't understand what you mean." Willy Wonka sighed. He didn't speak for a few minutes, but Charlie could tell that the chocolatier wasn't thinking about his past.

"It's like this," Willy Wonka said at last. "I don't feel things the same way you do." He pressed his fingertips to the cut. "And I can't compare how I feel with how you feel, because I'm not you. But this-" He dug his finger into the wound a little and Charlie flinched. "I don't mind it."

"You really don't mind?" Charlie said softly.

"No," Willy Wonka said. "And that's the best I can explain it." Charlie didn't know what to say to that. After a moment, he and Willy Wonka stood up at the same time.

"We're getting good at that," Charlie mused.

"Yeah." Willy Wonka flexed his fingers again and watched a drop of blood ooze down his hand. "I'd better get this cleaned up," he said. "Do you want to come with me?"

Charlie tired hard to smile.

"Okay."