And finally part 6, It's been the end of the school year around here, so life's been a bit hectic. I'm sorry about the delay and hope you enjoy it. PLease review once you've read thsi story, It's my first so I'd like any feedback. Actaully it's my second but I deleted it after one chapter.

Disclaimer- I take only inspiration from the movie and books, i do not own them.

Wonka made his way up the staircase, unable to sleep. He dried a tear that seemed to have gathered round his eyes with a blue silk hankercheifand made his way up. His face was passive, though only because he didn't have the strength to change it. His polished black boots, embroidered with a red "W" made their way up and up. The staircase was not often used; he didn't know why he had ended up there. He had found the doors leading elsewhere locked, so he had passively followed the path of unlocked doors until he came to the door that opened onto the roof. He opened it with one gloved hand, and realized that it was snowing slightly. He was wearing his dressing gown and wasn't really dressed for going outside but nonetheless he plunged into the wet, cold exterior. He saw in front of him a form, it was too late to turn back and he knew Charlie had heard him come. He looked down, ashamed of the way he had behaved.

"Charlie. I've talked to your mother and Doctor Williams..."

"Yeah, I know. The twenty seventh of December. I know. "

Wonka felt like the inside of him was being dragged downwards by a hook, that Charlie could so plainly say that was beyond him. He was surprised by the fierceness in his own voice as he said,

"Charlie, it wasn't meant to be this way. It's just not right. You're meant to live on and be a successful chocolatier, then I die of old age and you get sad for a while than you live a happy life. Then you release seven golden tickets and seven more children come in, you find one who seems to shine out, who is careful and not bad, and who is nice and caring and humble. You were meant to take him in and show him your factory. Charlie, why did this have to happen?"

"Your."

"What?" Wonka stopped and sat down next to Charlie and looked at him almost angrily.

"Your. Take him in and show him your factory."

"Charlie, it's yours."

"As of the Twenty Seventh of December I won't exist. I don't want you to get sad Mr. Wonka."

"Willy."

"What?" Charlie said, frowning.

"I don't want you to get sad Willy."

Charlie smiled and shivered involuntarily. Wonka instantly felt bad for not helping Charlie and took off his own dressing gown and heaped it around Charlie's shoulders. He continued talking to Charlie, as he was conscious of Charlie leaning into him. He put a tentative arm around Charlie , who was now almost as tall as himself.

"Everything else. Everything else I've been able to help with. I've been able to save you or tell you or something. About everything except this. Charlie, more than anything in the world…I don't want you to die."

"Look, feel this." Charlie put Mr. Wonka's hand on the roof, where snow had not built up very much and the iron could still be seen.

"It's warm. So what?"

"Your factory is warm. It's alive. It's the only place I've really lived in. I'm glad to have lived here for a short time than have lived outside 'til I was one hundred. Mr. Wonka…Willy, I'm not a kid anymore. You protected me when I needed it. Now I don't. I don't want to go either, but that doesn't help. It's one and a half weeks til Christmas Willy; I want it to be special."

Charlie leaned into the warm embrace Wonka found himself giving. He felt vaguely conscious of his bald head, it looked ugly and weird but he didn't have much choice. He realized Willy had in his hand the snowflake that he had taken, Charlie remembered him shattering it and shuddered slightly.

"Eat it, It'll make you feel better, Mr. Wonka. Willy." He added quickly.

Wonka took a tentative bite and swallowed. He smiled slightly, he did feel better. Somehow he felt better, the whirling feelings inside him simplified.

Charlie looked up at Wonka's sudden silence and knew that he was deep in some flashback. He simply leaned against Mr. Wonka's chest and listened to the faintly beating heart.

Wonka strode into the Doctor's office, opening the door with an angry crash and closing it slightly more quietly. In the dim grey-white waiting room he sat, drawing attention to himself shamelessly. He waited for the nurse to look at him enquiringly. He came to the small window; the plastic between them had only one small hole he could talk through. The Nurse frowned slightly at Wonka's blatant colorful-ness. He was in his usual red coat, which seemed to scream out at the quietly waiting patients.

"I wish to see Dr. Williams." He said, smiling slightly. The nurse gave one nod and pointed to a door. Mr. Wonka felt indignant at simply being ordered about like that, but he made his way through the door. He sat at the seat to look up to see Dr. Williams staring at him. Wonka brushed a bit of imaginary dust off his sleeve and smiled at the old man.

"I presume you are here about Charlie Bucket."

"Yup."

There was a deadly silence, but Wonka won as the Doctor fiddled nervously with his pen and eventually said,

"So what were you enquiring about? Regrettable, I know but the disease is hereditary."

"Regrettable? Regrettable? Is that all you can say? Just fix Charlie up. I can pay; I'll pay anything in the world. It is only you who stands in the way, Doctor Williams."

"I'm afraid no amount of money will help Charlie. I simply cannot help."

"You say that as if...there is nothing we can do. There has to be something, Doctor Williams. Anything."

Wonka's manner changed from angry to pleading.

"I can pay, Charlie just needs a drop of medicine and than it will be fine. How dare you say that Charlie will not be fine? He will be." Wonka stopped and said, slightly less certainly, "I know my Charlie and he will get better."

"I'm sorry Mr. Wonka, but the cancer is inoperable. I cannot do anything. Good day."

Wonka stayed in his chair, his pale face shaking with rage, his pearly blue eyes looking at Dr. Williams like a pneumatic drill.

"So you mean to say that some whangdoodle of a textbook happens to state in it that Charlie can't be fixed? What small-minded people you are. Very well, Good day." He said, appearing calm but every word seemed like acid.

He left the small office as soon as he had come, leaving the dead grey world that he had entered, certain that nothing here would help Charlie. He simply wouldn't accept that Charlie would…. He couldn't even say the word in his mind. Over time, as Charlie had helped him, he had come to be able to say 'parents' and 'family' but now he couldn't end Charlie's sentence. Somehow over the last few hours he had regarded that small phrase as Charlie's to say, not his. He silently entered the Glass Elevator and whirred back to his own world.

Charlie woke in his own room, fully dressed in his bed. The patchy roof showed beams of sunshine making their way through, landing on the wooden floor, the old worn desk and dancing across his face. He lay there, thinking, as the sunlight danced over his face. It moved and swayed, the dappled light illuminated his tired, thing face. He lifted his arms, looking at how small they were really, and felt cautiously his own shaven head. He found himself so ugly, so weird now that he had no hair that he never considered that others might find him beautiful. He got up slowly and looked at the mirror and looked bitterly into his own eyes. He got up and turned the mirror against the wall.

Downstairs his mother greeted him with a fierce hug, whispering "my dearest boy…my Charlie…" so softly he could barely hear it. He skipped breakfast and made his way outside. It felt weird not to go to college ever again, he had left without a trace, not many people had noticed. Only his room mates felt sad.

Wonka stood in his room, looking up at the task he had devoted himself to for the remainder of the night. The sunlight now crept in through the circular windows in the roof and Wonka turned suddenly, his eyes shimmering and his top hat slightly askew. It was almost Christmas time.

That's it for now, please review if you can.Oh, and I did promise a picture/ illustration with this chapter but unfortunatly my scanner has "issues" and needs some alone time. So i'll try to get them up with the next chapter. Thanks for reading,

C. Clementine