He watched her step into the room, clipboard and pen in her hands utterly forgotten. She stared around her at the world he had created, and inside, he was very pleased that she liked it. It struck him then that, for the first time in perhaps his entire life, he wasn't thinking about chocolate. He wasn't thinking about how much Veronica would like his chocolate. He wasn't even thinking about how impressed she was with the spectacle surrounding her. He was thinking about how pretty she now looked, in the proper environment. She had pulled off her glasses and stared in wonderment at the trees, the river, everything. And he was staring, almost absentmindedly, at her. She had storm-grey eyes, hidden behind those glasses, but now they looked as if they were flashing a bright ice-blue. And there was an almost childlike look of wonder on her face, as if she had belonged here all the time, but was only now discovering it. She turned back to him then, with an almost nostalgic sigh.

"Oh my…"

And she could see now, too. She saw the look of absentminded enchantment on the candymaker's face, and knew why Wonka's chocolates were the best in the world. He was utterly and completely in love with the world that he had created, and every time he looked on it, he was seeing something new. And it occurred to her, quite suddenly, that the something new he was seeing this time… was her. She inhaled sharply, attempting to force herself back into reality, but the fact of the matter was that, now, this was reality. This place, this dream that the both of them had wandered into, perhaps intentionally, was the only reality that mattered now.

"Is… is everything here..?" she couldn't finish her sentence. The prospect that everything in this entire room might be…

"Everything in this room is eatable… Even the grass." He gestured with his cane at the long green grass. But he did not look down at it; rather his eyes remained almost questioningly on her face.

"But… that's hardly sanitary, Mr. Wonka." Veronica said, in only a shadow of her initial stiffness.

"It is when no one comes in or out of the factory, which is, in itself, an extremely clean and efficient environment. The only thing that is unsanitary is the soles of your shoes." He said matter-of-factly. Veronica silenced immediately. He certainly wasn't what she had expected. Of course, the thought occurred to her that she liked it better this way.

"Well, don't just stand there. Enjoy yourself!" He said, shooing her away.

She wandered away, toward a tree bearing gigantic jellied fruits. She was just about to pick one from the long, delicate branches, but stopped herself, straightening up.

"Mr. Wonka, I am not here to sample your sugared delights. I can do that at any corner store in the world these days. I am here to ensure that you are operating this facility under safe conditions. Now, this is a big place, and don't pretend you weren't trying to stall me."

The chocolatier looked offended. He approached the tree and plucked the fruit she had been reaching for. Then he turned hurt, puppy-dog eyes on her face.

"You don't like my candy?"

"Of course I do."

"Then what's stopping you?" He asked with a grin.

"I… have a job to do." She said with a resigned sigh. "And if I don't do it, I'll be fired."

"Then you can come and live here and work for me."

Veronica looked shocked.

"It isn't that simple. I don't know the first thing about making candy, and another thing; I haven't seen hide nor hair of any other workers here."

"That's where you're wrong, Veronica." He said, pushing the treat into her hands. "It's always that simple."

Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier...

Veronica was so stunned at these words that she couldn't reply. She simply nibbled at the fruit in her hand, and was stunned at its flavor. It didn't bear the artificial taste of jellied fruit slices sold in most candy stores, but instead tasted as if a real piece of fruit had been somehow grown, already coated in sugar crystals. She closed her eyes and swayed on the spot. And when she opened them again, she found Wonka standing very close. He smiled the same enigmatic smile as earlier, and gestured toward the river of chocolate, winding its way through the landscape. She followed him, wondering what was to come next.

"My factory is the only one in the world to mix its chocolate by waterfall. It churns it up. Makes it light…" He was continuing his presentation as if none of the past several minutes had even happened. Veronica wondered inwardly if it really had. She was suddenly aware that she had stopped listening to what he was saying. But it didn't seem to matter. He spoke on with an air that suggested that what he was saying was common sense, and that she didn't really need to listen anyway. He spoke as if she had already known what he was saying. It almost unnerved her to realize that Wonka had had her pegged from the moment he admitted her through the front gates. That somehow, in that brief introduction, he had read her entire soul. And with a stab of regret, she realized that she had barely paid him attention at that moment, and the secrets of his soul were lost to her forever. All because she had tried to be a grown-up, and do her duty, instead of letting the ten year old girl inside rejoice at the long awaited meeting of the man of her dreams. She was suddenly aware that he had stopped speaking.

"You weren't listening to a word I said, were you?" He asked, astutely.

"I'm sorry…"

"What I say isn't as important as what you feel." He added, voice pitched lower than usual. Then:

"Speaking of feeling… did you know that chocolate contains a chemical that releases endorphins? Makes you feel like you're in love."

"I don't think I'm going to need chocolate for that…" Veronica muttered, looking away toward a clump of bushes, all sprouting small, white marshmallow flowers.

"I'm sorry, that was a little mumbled, what did you say?" The candymaker asked, with an air that suggested he knew exactly what she had said.

"…Fascinating. I said that was fascinating." Veronica said quickly, looking back into his alarmingly sharp eyes.

"Oh, thank you!" He grinned, but Veronica knew he could detect a lie at twenty paces, and was now just playing her game.

He wandered away a bit, down the bank of the river, leaving Veronica behind, and whistled loudly. It wasn't long before Veronica saw the boat gliding gracefully up to meet them. It was spun sugar and looked somewhat like a seahorse, and it was piloted by several tiny, identical men. She was fascinated.

"I see you've noticed the Oompa Loompas." Wonka said with a smile. "Aren't they great? They are the usual workers here, and boy, can they make chocolate! The best part of all, is that they only require pay in chocolate. And they're wonderful to talk to…" He wandered off on a meandering speech about the Oompa Loompas, but Veronica had stopped listening again. He seemed to notice much quicker this time, for he stopped in midsentence, and offered her his arm.

"Well, hopefully this boat will hold your short attention span longer than I can. Boy, is it a rush!" Veronica turned a deep shade of pink, but Wonka didn't notice. He helped her into the boat, and then stepped in himself, waving it onward.

Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka the amazing Chocolatier...

Somewhere midway through the wild ride, Veronica's hair had fallen out of its tight bun. Now, soft brown waves were curling around her face, and falling down her shoulders. She hated to say it, but she liked it much better that way.

"Well, you look like you had fun!" Wonka said brightly, assisting her out of the boat and onto the dock of one of the many rooms.

"That was a rush, to be sure…" She said breathlessly, and laughed, looking back at the boat, now sitting serenely in the river.

"Oh good! Now, this is one of the very most important rooms in the entire factory. This is the inventing room…"

Veronica was led from one strange machine to the next, shown creations that would have boggled the minds of her coworkers, all the while mystified by what seemed now to be a ten-year-old Willy Wonka, bouncing from invention to invention, stumbling through explanations, and fluttering around Veronica like a large purple butterfly, waiting anxiously for her opinion. On her clipboard, the pen stood poised, ready to make its verdict, but how could she possibly judge these… things… when not even their maker truly knew how they worked? Not to mention… when these things didn't work… Veronica shivered, hoping never to see 'hair toffee' on her corner store shelves.

"Do you like it?"

"…What?" Veronica was caught off guard.

"Do you like it? I mean, I know you haven't seen ALL of it, but..?"

"Yes, I'm… enchanted. But I hardly see how that matters."

"If you like it, I can stay open… and they won't bother me anymore?" It didn't sound like a question, but Veronica had the distinct impression that it was. She sighed.

"No, Mr. Wonka. If… somehow… I can determine that this place is safe for its workers, and that you aren't posing a threat to the consumer's health, then you can stay open. And I can't guarantee the agency won't bother you again. I'm sorry Mr. Wonka, but it isn't that simple."

He didn't correct her this time, but rather quietly directed her back to the docks for a decidedly more serene and almost depressing boat trip to another room. The door bore no label, and she decided by the looks of things, that Wonka rarely came to this particular room. He pushed open the creaking door silently and entered, not waiting or holding the door open for Veronica. She followed him sheepishly and inhaled sharply. She was standing in what could have been a vineyard in the south of France, but instead of grapevines, hundreds of tended bushes bearing chocolate roses stood in rows.

"This is where we produce all the candy for Valentine 's Day. I never liked it in here much, but there was a demand, so I fulfilled my position. The Oompa Loompas look after it for me. I never did like Valentine's day much." He said rather tonelessly. Moments later he slumped onto a small bench set under an archway amongst the rows of shrubs. Veronica joined him, but it was a long time before he looked up at her.

"How did you become a health inspector?"

"I… just sort of fell into it. There isn't much to do around this town."

"Do you love your job?"

"To tell the truth, I hate it. I wish I wasn't the only woman, and I wish I didn't have to see the looks on the faces of hardworking people who just let a few things slip through the cracks. How did you… learn to make magic?" She asked quietly.

"It isn't that simple." He snapped. Veronica looked taken aback.

"Would you rather I leave?"

"You have a job to do. I don't want to let you get fired…"

"Mr. Wonka, I will walk through those doors right now and go stand in the unemployment line tonight, if you don't sincerely tell me what I did to put you in such a state." She replied stoutly.

It was a long time before he answered.

"…How can you say that the world isn't simple, if life isn't simple when you're constantly complicating it, and not just going with what you feel?"

She didn't have an answer. But it didn't matter. At length he looked to her for a reply, and she said the first thing she could think of.

"And what do you feel, Mr. Wonka? Do you? Or do you hide it behind all these elaborate displays and a shallow satisfaction in the fact that what you are doing makes other people happy?" She snorted. "No one can be so completely obsessed with chocolate."

The two of them sat for a long time, back to back, chins thrust out like stubborn children, not saying a word. And then he heard her dissolve behind him. He felt it, as she slumped on the bench, giving in and beginning to cry. And he fought the impulse to move away, and turned to look at her.

"Why are you crying?"

"Because I'm frustrated, that's why." She said thickly.

"But why?"

"I've loved your candy since I was five years old." She said quietly. "I would run down to your store every week to buy a chocolate bar, and I always hoped that I'd get to see you. And in all these years I never did. But I never stopped hoping that maybe, one day… And today's the day, but now I have a job to do and I can't even let that part of me enjoy itself…" And she dissolved into sobs.

And something happened then that stunned the both of them. The great, recluse, eccentric Willy Wonka actually cared enough about another person to want to help them. Uncertainly, he slung an arm about her shoulders and leaned down beside her.

"You're overwatering my roses." He said simply. And the most miraculous thing occurred. Veronica burst out laughing. She looked up at him, eyeliner running down her cheeks.

"Thank you…" She said breathlessly.

"Well, I can't have you crying all over my candy, can I?" He said lightly, attempting to pretend that nothing had happened.

"You know, you aren't what I expected at all, Mr. Wonka." Veronica said, smiling waterily.

"I've been getting that a lot these days…" He replied. "We should continue, there's still a lot to cover."

"No, if you don't mind, I'd prefer to stay here awhile." Veronica sat up and looked around. "If this is the only chance I get… I want to make the most of it."

The pair sat in silence for awhile then, Veronica taking in the scenery, feeling the gentle breeze, hardly believing it to be artificial. Wonka watched her, a serene expression on his face, blue velvet eyes taking her in.

"Why is it you don't like this room, Mr. Wonka?" Veronica asked suddenly.

"Valentine's day… euch! Who wants to spend a whole day thinking about something you can never have?"

"Never have? Someone else's love?"

"It isn't worth it if it isn't perfect. Love without perfection is just delayed pain." Wonka replied, matter-of-factly. "Much better to drown yourself in the chocolate than feed it to someone else and perpetuate the deception."

"That isn't true! You can't find the perfect love for you if you don't try. And if you don't try, you'll only be alone and unfulfilled in your lifetime. Better to try, get hurt and know what to watch out for in the future than to never try at all and spend your whole life wondering if you were wrong!"

"What makes you try again when you get hurt?"

"What makes you try again when a candy doesn't turn out like you planned?"

"That's completely different!"

"No. It's exactly the same." Veronica knew she had outsmarted the candymaker this time. He stood, rigid amongst the chocolate rosebushes, attempting to think of a comeback, but nothing came. "What do you feel, Mr. Wonka?" She said at length.

He looked at her for a long time, apparently attempting to discern what trickery this was. Then, finally, a look of complete and utter seriousness fell over the chocolatier's face.

"Alone." Was all he said.