He did make it home safely, and slipped into bed without waking Reya. When he awoke, she had nestled into the warmth of his arms, and he smiled, kissing the top of her head lightly. He could feel her breathing, and cradled her, knowing it wouldn't be long until she woke. She was so pretty when she was able to sleep so peacefully. Her body was soft and warm, and he remembered the first time he had ever held her like this.

They had both been younger, and their lives weren't as crazy as they seemed to be now. There were no kids around to drive them up the wall, nothing to make them feel pain. It was just him and her in their own paradise. For that evening, she was the only person in his world, just like she was right now. If only she could understand these feelings. Unless, of course, she was already feeling the same. She stirred in her sleep and looked up at him.

"You're back," she yawned. "Yeah," he said softly, kissing her forehead. "What time is it?"

"Who cares? Don't get out of bed just yet." She smiled and he held her close. "Do you remember when you said fairy tales never came true?" He kissed her neck and shoulder.

"Yeah," she said sleepily. "Why?"

"I was just thinking about when mine came true."

"Marrying a girl not even a third of your age?" she asked. He chuckled and kissed her cheek.

"Finding someone who's almost as crazy as I am." She laughed as he tangled his arms tighter around her. "Almost," he added, and kissed her neck again. She looked at him and he kissed her lips briefly. When he pulled his head back up, she placed a hand on his cheek and drew his face closer to hers again, kissing him passionately.
-

The phone was ringing downstairs, and Willy ran down to answer it while Reya remained upstairs, getting dressed. "Hello, Wonka residence. One minute." He placed his hand over the receiver and looked up the stairs. "Debbie! It's for you," he shouted. There were footsteps hurrying down the stairs, and Deborah appeared, a green makeup mask on her face, and her hair in a towel. Willy shouted, pretending he had seen a monster, and pulled the phone away. "I'm sorry, it appears she's been eaten by a green monster, can she call you back"

"Dad!" shouted Deborah, snatching the phone back. "Hello? Hi Ryan." She rolled her eyes at her father, who stuck his tongue out in return. "No, that's just my dad. I dunno, he must've broken out of the mental hospital again." He made a face at her and walked back to the living room. Ronnie was sitting on the couch, watching cartoons, and Willy sat down next to him.

"Rodney," he said softly. "Can you turn it to the news please?"

"Ronnie," said Ronnie, looking at him like he was a dum-dum.

"Ronnie! Sorry. Change it to the news please." Ronnie sighed and flipped channels until he got to CNN and stood up, walking out of the living room.

"I wanna watch Bugs Bunny, Daddy," said a voice. Willy turned his head and looked down at little Jessica, sitting on the couch next to him, in her pajamas. He stared for a minute, feeling the old pain coming back, and shook his head.

"You're not real," he whispered. He didn't have the heart to tell her to go away; it felt like he was telling his real daughter to go away. "Please," he whispered.

"Silly Daddy," she said, shaking her head. "Can we please watch cartoons?" "No," he said softly.
She pouted and disappeared. He sighed and shook his head. It had been a long time since he had seen Jessica, or a vision of her. In fact, it hadn't happened since the day she had disappeared, not including the instance the night before. He never told Reya about it, fearing she'd think he'd lost it, not that she hadn't thought that a long time ago already, but that was more teasing than serious.

Maybe he should tell her? What if she was going through the exact same thing, and hadn't told him?
No, she told him everything, no matter how scary or depressing it sounded. He felt better not telling her, and decided if it got really bad, then he might say something... might. Ever since Jessica had been kidnapped, his personality had changed. He wasn't as bubbly or spontaneous anymore. He knew it, and knew Reya didn't like it. She had changed too. In fact, for a moment he feared he could see her old teen self coming back after it had happened. His body still ached to hold his daughter again. Some nights, he would hug his pillow and pretend it was her. She had been so little when she had gone, and he could only hope she died quickly and wasn't forced to suffer too long.

He knew it sounded horrible for a father to wish that his own daughter had died quickly, but he wanted that rather than her being abused every which way for years before dying. She was his baby, his little girl, and the last thing he wanted was to see her in pain.

"Dad, there's a call waiting for you," called Deborah.

"I'm coming," he said and stood up, walking over to the phone. "Who is it?" he asked. Deborah shrugged and handed him the phone. "Willy Wonka speaking," he said.

"Mr. Wonka, it's Denise."

"Who?"

"Denise, the nurse you talked to last night."

"Oh, right! Sorry. What can I do for you?"

"I found out who Angel Jay-jay is," said Denise.

"Really? Who is it?"

"Her real name is Jasmine Chang. Chinese. She disappeared eleven years ago. Just snatched out of her home when her mother left her home alone for the first time."

"Oh dear," he muttered. "That's not good."

"She was fourteen when she was taken, and was never seen again. There was nothing left behind, no evidence. Whoever took her knew what they were doing to keep hidden."

"Until now," muttered Willy. "Jane obviously knew her. I wonder if she was kidnapped as well."

"Well, her picture's been on the news for the last week now, and the internet, and no one claims to know her."

"That doesn't mean her family's not still looking for her. If we can get her to tell us more about this... we could find who did it." He could hear the nurse give a stifled laugh.

"Good luck with that."

"Thank you for everything."

"No problem."

"G'bye."
-

Jane stood in front of the canvas, adding every additional detail she needed to her large painting that nobody was allowed to see. Mr. Wonka would show up again, he always did, whether she wanted him to or not. He was the best actor she had ever seen. The smile he wore, whenever he came to see her, was a mask and usually was taken off after about five minutes of being around her.

Pain was something that was forced out in this place, no matter how long you could try to keep it in or hidden. The nurses always found a way to bring it out of you in what they called a 'healing process'. She had almost fallen for it the night before and given away everything. But she had stopped talking in time, and they had given up trying to get any more information from her.

"That's my little girl," she could hear the voice still hissing in her ear, and she shuddered, willing herself not to cry. The nurses would see and most likely try to make her tell them things. She wouldn't talk, not to them, not to anybody. There was more at stake than just her life, and she had to remember that.

The door behind her opened and she knew it was Mr. Wonka stepping in. Moving quickly, she covered up the canvas had hid it away in the closet.

"Good afternoon, Jane," came his voice, cheerful as usual. She sighed, that wouldn't last for long. She turned to face him and he walked over to her. "Feeling better today?" She didn't answer, and he sighed. "Yeah, I didn't sleep much either."

There was a flash of lightning, and she jumped. She hadn't noticed it was raining out, and it appeared he hadn't either, because he looked just as surprised. "Oh dear," he muttered, and walked over to the window, looking out. "It's not very pretty outside is it?" She glanced out the window and bit her lip. "I do love the sound of rain though," he said, smiling, trying to bring up the brighter side of things.

Jane hugged herself tightly, already feeling the cold and shook her head. "Sounds like screams," she said in a shaky voice. Willy turned and looked at her, his smile vanishing. "I hear screams... when it rains. I hear them screaming."

"Who?" asked Willy, concerned. She looked at him with weary, sorrowful eyes and shook her head.

"I'm not crazy," she said weakly.

"I never said you were, dear girl," he said softly but firmly, his eyes trying to see through her. "I don't think that at all." She nodded to the door and glanced at it.

"They think I am. That's what they say when they think I can't hear them."

"They just want to help you," said Willy. "That's what I want to do." She took in a deep breath and continued to stare out the window. "Jane, do you know who Jasmine Chang is?"

"Jay-jay," she whispered. "You knew her?" She nodded slowly. "Last night you said she was an angel. Why?" She closed her eyes and sniffled.

"Because she was the only one who was brave. The rest of us screamed."

"Is she still alive?" he asked. She shook her head.

"No, he killed her."

"Who killed her?"

"God did," she said, looking at her. He wasn't sure of what to say.

"You believe in a God?" he asked.

"Yes. He's a monster."

"Jane, I'm not a firm believer in any religion, but I have read parts of the Bible, mostly because my wife is a Christian. And from what I've read, the God you believe in does everything for a reason. He's a loving God that won't abandon you"

"He killed Jay-jay," she said, tears in her eyes.

"Perhaps it was her time to go and he was taking her home."

"We were already at his home," she said, looking at him. "He took us all there and we couldn't escape." At this, he stared at her in confusion. Surely they were not talking about the same person.

"God did this?" he asked.

"He said he was God," she said, looking at him. "He said he was because he could control us. He decided when we lived or died." Suddenly things were beginning to make sense, and he shook his head.

"Jane, that was not God," he said softly. "That was a sick man who stole you and... I don't know what he did to you... but it was nothing but a man looking for a way to take control of you, make himself feel like he was God even. But he was not God. The real God doesn't do things like that." She glanced at him with sad eyes.

"How can you say that, if you don't believe in God?" He knew she had him there and shook his head.

"I've seen too many bad things happen to believe there is one, quite honestly. He's let me down one too many times." She shifted a little and shook her head.

"You can't be angry with God and not believe in him at the same time," she whispered. There was a very loud crack of thunder, and she jumped, shuddering and hugged herself. "Listen to the rain," she whispered. "I used to be afraid of thunderstorms. Jay-jay taught me to listen to the rain, and it helped a little. Now all I can hear are the others screaming like they did when it would rain." He looked at her, and she seemed to have aged dramatically right before him. Even though she couldn't have been much older than thirteen, she looked like she was past eighty on the inside.

"How did Jay-jay die?" asked Willy at length. She looked at him and her eyes reflected the old fear from that time.

"He took her into the dark," she whispered, and buried her face in her hands, sobbing openly and sinking down to the ground and drawing her knees up under her chin.

Willy lowered himself to the floor, flinching in pain from his old joints, and sat in front of her. He wanted to comfort her, but how could he? There was probably more horrifying things she had gone through that he didn't know how to help her handle. So he looked at her, crying and wondering what he could do. He knew that he wasn't supposed to make physical contact with any of the patients (a rule he still did not fully understand) but looking at her told him she had gone for too long without a hug. Sometimes a hug was all anyone really needed. Looking around, and deciding he'd take his chances, he moved next to her and put his arms around her gently.

She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, and he comforted her, not caring whether or not he got caught. Right now, a hug would be the best thing for her.