AN: Firstly I want to apologize for taking so very long to get to chapter 3. I injured my back and was nearly unable to walk and in lots of pain. I am slowly recovering and finally able to sit long enough to type this. I admit that I was really stuck on this chapter….. lots of ideas but none were coming together. Well, while I have been recovering and taking my pain medicine a new idea came to me and it sort of wrote itself. It is short but I think it works. This story is taking me places I didn't intend to go to. Not bad places, the story pulled me to the left when I thought it should go right...Hopefully I can get through Chapter 4 by next week. Please enjoy this one. R & R!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. The title of the song One is the Loneliest Number by Three Dog Night is used as chapter title and background for this chapter.

Chapter 3 One is the Loneliest Number

As he contemplated this moment, Wonka's mind churned away as usual. This time instead of formulas and recipes he thought of memories nearly forgotten.

One man, one factory, one dream, one passion, one goal, one father…….one regret.

One boy who followed his dream.

One man working day by day, sometimes, hour by hour , to achieve his goal and to spite his father.

One anger fueling his fire that kept the desire to achieve burning.

Wonka was the best student in the history of the Belgian Culinary Institute. Actually, the best and brightest ever. Period.

Chef Weiss worked the young apprentice relentlessly, knowing that the intense pressure would help to shape him to be the best the world has seen.

Aware of his students proclivity towards creative invention he would assign Wonka challenges which seemed bizarre to the other students and staff as well. The first challenge that he presented to the chocolatier-in-training was to create a 3 dimensional object from sugar.

The eighth one that Wonka slaved over won approval and was promptly melted down by chef Weiss. As the brightly colored sculpture swirled down the drain Chef Weiss explained to a shaken Wonka that this in itself was an exercise to toughen him. That sometimes the blood, sweat and tears put into an effort is not what really counts….it is the knowledge that you can do it again. That you can create, again and again and again with confidence in your ability. That the actions which brought you success if reproduced over and over will more times than not bring more success.

A weak "Yes, Chef" was all our boy could muster. He swiftly returned to his dorm room and began to silently cry. He cried for the effort he put forth and the frustration of failure and most of all for the dream not yet fulfilled.

Dr. Wilbur Wonka locked the office door after the last patient of the day. He hung his white coat on a hook in the narrow and grey hallway. Slowly and deliberately he climbed the steep stairs to the uppermost level of the house. He looked forward to his daily ritual. He needed to sit and rest for a while after being on his feet most of the day.

When he reached the top of the stairway he faced a simple wooden door and gently, almost reverently, opened it. The room was small, an attic space not really intended to be used as a room but the center of the sloped ceiling allowed for a person to walk upright. He gingerly stepped inside and took a seat on a comfy armchair that sat at a wooden desk. The morning newspapers had been there waiting for him. His housekeeper had strict instructions to always without fail bring the three daily papers up to this room and place them on the desk. She was only to clean this room when Dr. Wonka gave her permission.

Now secure in his sanctuary, Dr. Wonka began to read the newspapers. He looked forward to this task even though news of the world did not interest him. He was looking for news about his long gone son, Willy Wonka, the great chocolatier. His scissors lie within reach, ready to be used.

Page after page he turned scanning the text and photographs. Some days he might get lucky and find one or two articles, unless The Wonka Factory was launching a new candy . On those days he would find five or six articles with photographs and would feel as though he won the lottery. Carefully snipping the paper and reading the article, which usually did not speak of Wonka himself just the newest candy. The photos were usually stock media photos of Wonka. He only released three to the press and since he really never left the factory there were no opportunities for the media to catch him out in the world.

One man, one house, one son. One dream……one regret.

He held todays find gently and read every word. Speculation about what Wonka's newest candy could be was the topic. No new information there……but somehow Dr. Wonka felt comforted to see his son's name in print. It meant he was still alive, out there in the world (well, in his own world) alive and breathing. It gave him permission to breathe a sigh of relief. He wouldn't have to bury his son today.

When Willy first left home, after graduating HS early and earning a scholarship to the exclusive culinary school, Dr. Wonka first felt his heart sink. When Willy walked out of the front door for the last time Dr. Wonka stood behind it hand on the door knob, listening for Willy's footsteps…..maybe he will turn back, maybe he will change his mind maybe……but the footsteps continued until they were too far away to hear. Dr. Wonka, hand still on the door knob, now knew that he indeed had made the biggest mistake of his life. His son was gone……forever.

The days and months passed. The years peeled away and Dr. Wonka kept his vigil in the attic room, searching for news about Willy. As long as the papers were writing about him, he was still alive. He couldn't bear to think about life without Willy. Even though he knew he wasn't the father he should have been. His pride kept him from his son.

And the apple didn't fall far from this tree...

Willy would become a chocolatier no matter what.

AN: Some of the songs I am using are only for the title, others are what inspired the chapter or just seemed to express the same feeling. I have no idea how many chapters this will be. Initially I intended to write a short, 3 or 4 chapter story, but this story is taking on a life of it's own and only it knows where it's going. I have a feeling this might turn into a long story...anyway, I am hoping to incorporate lyrics into the chapters, if the story will allow me to :) Thanks for reading!