A/Ns: Whew. This one took forever to write… no small part due to the fact that is was a very emotional chapter for both of them. May not seem that way at first but thin about Sara and Willy's personalities – they're not prone to emotionality. Ooog. I'm just glad I got it written… and the next chapter will have something to make up for it, I promise.
It's not as fluffy as the last one. I sorry. It also has Mr. Wonka acting in a way some of you might construe as OOC, but hopefully taking into account the way he has doubtless changed since embarking on his relationship with Sara it will make sense, hein? Which is more then can be said for that last sentence.
As for Sara not calling Willy, well, Willy... come on. You really think she would? XD

Aljinon: She has a cane because she is crippled, for reasons explain in this chapter.

To all my loyal reviewers: you've stuck with me thus far, and Iheart you all with great… heart-ing. Affection. That's the word.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She asked me to stay and I stole her room
She asked for my love and I gave her a dangerous mind
Now she's stupid in the street and she can't socialize
But I love the little girl and I'll love her 'till the day she dies
She began to wail, jealousy's scream, waiting at the lights, know what I mean?
Scary monsters and super creeps keep me running; running scared

- "Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps)," David Bowie

It had been a month and a half since Sara and Willy – whom she now alternated between calling William and Will, depending on how outraged she was pretending to be – had started to see each other. They still went out very rarely, as Willy's fear of public spaces could never be quite conquered, but they had seen each other – she'd visit the factory to see her family and him, and once or twice he had braved the streets of the city to come see her. They had an unspoken agreement not to mention whatever was happening between them to the rest of her family. Whatever it was… it was too new, too fragile and unsure to be subjected to scrutiny. It was changing them both, whether they knew it or not… Willy found himself holding off testing new candies on himself or Oompa-Loompas until he was 98 sure they were right, as opposed to his usual standard of 85. Sara, without noticing, had begun to indulge herself a bit more – buying bits of feminine nonsense she didn't really need or a book she could just as easily have borrowed from the library. If either of them noticed the changes and traced them back to that night at the theatre, neither ever said so out loud.

Willy was feeling quite pleased with himself as he fairly skipped up the stairs to Sara's apartment. It'd taken forever to get her surprise ready, not to mention all the trouble he went through getting the information he needed from Mr. and Mrs. Bucket without letting them know what he was up to; it would still be worth it to see the look on her face. He couldn't wait! This would definitely get a real smile out of her, though he had to say that she had been nearly-smiling around him more often then not lately.

He knocked on her door and waited, shifting impatiently. Eventually he gave into his jitteriness and beat out a staccato rhythm on the helpless door until it opened under his knuckles and he had to pull back sharply to avoid hitting Sara right on the nose. That would certainly be an unfortunate start to things. She stood in the doorway with one eyebrow raised, spine stiff and straight as ever. He grinned.

"Will. I wasn't expecting you."
"Of course not. If you were expecting me, it wouldn't be a surprise!"
"I see. And I suppose I'm expected to leave off whatever I'm doing and come with you?"
"Well… yeah!"

A small near-smile played across her face, as though she was trying not to laugh.

"You are, without a doubt, the most gleefully inconsiderate man alive."
"…huh?"
"Nevermind. Let me just get my coat."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sara stifled a resigned sigh when she saw the glass elevator parked out front. He was inexplicably enamored of what she considered to be possibly the most precarious and dangerous form of transportation ever invented by man – including hydrogen blimps. She'd never liked heights, and Will's haphazard approach to navigation did nothing to calm her nerves.

"May I ask where you're taking me?"
"No."
"As I thought."

Still. For all his strangeness, he was a good man and she enjoyed his company. Anything more than that… well, perhaps she was rather… fond… of him – but that was irrelevant, because she was the least romantic figure on earth and a dreamer like Will was the last person who'd fall for her.

She entered the elevator and made sure to stand near one of the few portions of the wall not covered in buttons. Because of her crippled leg, even the slightest of sharp turns – and he made many – was enough to put her off balance. A cane only did so much, and she needed a wall to hold onto.
Will's jittery excitement was catching, especially in an enclosed space like the elevator, and she grinned a little – a grin which faded as soon as the elevator took off, traveling at what couldn't be safe speeds through thins air…

Sara gulped and closed her eyes. Maybe it would be easier if she didn't look.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was an abandoned on the outskirts of the city, just a block or so away from where the Bucket's slanted house used to be. Grass, vines, and moss had covered most of the ruins, turning the former industrial complex into a great lumbering pile of green. Trees has taken root inside the building and pressed upwards, breaking through the roof after many years' growth. It was not as resplendently green as it was in the spring and summer; still, even the bare branches, dying grass and yellowing moss held a certain stark beauty against the cold concrete. There was a creek running near it; streaks of industrial waste could be seen floating idly along the top of the languid waters. The glass elevator seemed from afar like just another glittering piece of glass in the sunlight; the only indication it was anything else were the two figures emerging from it, one of them holding out his hand to help the second out.

Mr. and Mrs. Bucket had told Willy that before Sara had been crippled and lost most of her mobility, this had been the first place anyone looked for her. If you asked Mr. Wonka's honest opinion, he couldn't see why she liked the place. It was terribly dreary and depressing. Still… he had it on good authority that today was likely to be the last good day before winter set in fully and he's wanted to make something of it. It was a strange urge to have, but considering it was for Sara… it seemed right, that was all.

He watched her anxiously for a reaction. She looked around, recognition dawning on her face.

"The old shoe factory… I used to come here when I still lived with my family. Why are we here?"

She turned to face him and he put up a single finger, warding off her questions. The grin on his face was eager and boyish.

"Watch this."

He reached back into the elevator and picked up a medium-sized cloth bundle Sara hadn't noticed before. Gesturing at her to stay by the elevator, he strode a few yards away, set is down, and then scampered back in a rather undignified manner.

Behind him, the parcel began to expand and fold outward. Sara stared at it, shock written in her eyes. She had known Will was capable of near-miracles, but she had never seen his particular brand of magic. He kept glancing quickly between her and his latest invention, his grin impossibly wide, looking as though he was about to burst with pride.

Now long poles were unfolding and propping up the cloth that had spread along the ground, pushing it up like a canopy to reveal an elegant table, two chairs, and a light lunch.

For the first time in her life, Sara gaped.

"How on earth…?"
"A magician never reveals his secrets."
"You're not a magician."
"I'm a chocolatier, it's almost the same thing. C'mon, let's go have lunch."

Willy tugged on her elbow, gently, and she let herself be guided towards the pavilion, still in a daze. Feeling greatly daring, he rested a hand lightly on her waist as they moved forward, inexpressibly pleased with himself. She moved away from him when they came to the table proper and he let her go, not without a small twinge of regret. He liked having her near him. She was… well, she was Sara.
She ran a hand wonderingly over the back of the chair.

"You know, I never really believe Charlie when he'd talk about all the wonderful things you could do. I suppose I should have…"

He chose to ignore her comment. He had a feeling it wasn't something you were supposed to respond to in the first place. Instead he talked about innocuous things while they ate, letting his own chatter fill the silence. Sara seemed preoccupied by something… he hoped he hadn't made a mistake in coming here. That would be awful.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sara listened absently to Will's voice, not paying attention to the words. This place held far too many memories for her. Not that she faulted him for bringing her here; how could he know? And the whole thing with the tent hadn't helped either. Sometimes she wondered if he knew how much a genius he was – how unusual his talents and capabilities were.

Likely he doesn't care, even if he does know.

Before she could really settle herself, lunch was over and he was looking expectantly at her. She managed a weak sort of smile and stood, clutching her cane like a lifeline.

"Would you mind coming with me to take a look at the creek? There's something I'd like to see."

He wouldn't. He fell into step next to her and she allowed his hand to creep around and rest hesitantly on her waist as it had before. His touch caused a kind of electrical tingling in her spine. It wasn't unpleasant or uncomfortable; she simply wasn't accustomed to it. It had been a long time since she'd found a man attractive.
She could admit she was attracted to him. He was very handsome, even if he didn't seem to know it, and while he was exasperatingly childish at times he was also prone to committing random acts of romance and courtesy without seeming to notice. If it was calculated on his part, it was calculated very well.

The creek had worn a deep groove in the soil over the years, the grass growing to overhang its banks and touch the surface. Sara knelt, with effort, and looked into the water as best she could. It was hard to see below the surface with the sun behind the clouds…
The clouds moved and Sara saw the figures of hundreds of tiny little minnows darting against the sandy creek-bottom.

She smiled.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Willy had been bemused by Sara's sudden desire to go see the creek. It didn't seem very special to him; it was just a creek, and not a very clean one either. Still, he didn't pass up a chance to put his arm around her again, even though he didn't quite dare touch her fully.
He withdrew when she knelt, squatting beside her (he didn't want to get his pants dirty) and looking quizzically at the stream. Seeing nothing, he looked at her instead. She was staring intently at the water and he was about to ask her why…

And then she smiled.

Truly smiled, the way he'd seen her do all those weeks ago.

Willy had forgotten how beautiful it really was. His mouth went dry and any thoughts he might have had flew right out of his head. There were no words for it; there never would be. Everything about her became soft and fine and in that moment he wanted nothing so much as to have her turn that smile to him, to have it be for him, because she was with him.

"When I used to come here, there was no life in this creek."

He almost missed what she said. As it was, the only thing to come out was a strangled, questioning noise. She didn't seem to notice.

"The water was always too polluted for anything to live in it. I had heard that they were working to improve the quality of groundwater in the city; I'm glad they were telling the truth."

Willy didn't really know how to respond to that.

"You… did you come here a lot?"
"Almost every day. It was quiet, and peaceful, and something that was mine – something I didn't have to share with anyone. Until my leg… but you don't want to hear about that."
"I would, actually. Um. If you want to tell me."

Her smile faded and he felt a queer squeezing ache in his chest at its loss. She turned her steady gaze on him.

"Why?"

His eyes shifted and danced away from hers, looking anywhere but at her. When he spoke, his voice was almost a whisper.

"I think – I think it might help me understand why you… don't smile so much."

Her look turned serious.

"My leg is the least of the reasons why I… don't smile so much, as you say."

He swallowed.

"Could you tell me anyway? All of them, I mean. I'd like to know…"

She closed her eyes briefly.

"Are you sure? You might not want to hear some of it; it's all rather painful."
"…yes?"

Sara sighed and settled herself on the ground, holding tightly to her cane to steady herself.

"Then you'd better sit down. It's a long story."

He sat. She began to speak in a flat monotone, frighteningly flat compared to her usual expressive tone, staring past the creek at something he couldn't see.

"I was an active child, according to mother and my own memories. Always running off and getting into mischief and generally shaving several years off my parents' lives on a regular basis. An unholy terror… I was too young to understand why we couldn't have the things other children did and I never thought it was fair that I had to wear hand-me-downs while other children got new clothing, or that my shoes never quite fit…

One day when I was ten, mother had had enough of me and sent me out to play. The other children… they were always daring me to do things, and I would do them. Because we were poor, you see, so that was the only way I could have any kind of status.

There used to be a very tall tree in the neighborhood. Not a safe one, either – the branches were thin and weak, and spaced too far apart for climbing… anyway. That day, they dared me to climb to the top of the tree. I took it… and I fell. Broke my leg. Most of them scattered; one of them knew where I lived and told father what had happened. He came and carried me home and set my bones – he didn't want to go to a doctor in case we couldn't afford it. All this I found out later. All I remember is the blinding pain.

Father is a wonderful man, very good with his hands, very talented. But he's not a doctor. He didn't set my bones properly; hence my useless leg. Infection set in, and a fever… all in all, I was laid up for about ten days, completely delirious. Father had to go, and mother had to take care of all the grandparents and the house, and me, and there was so very little money….
The fever broke eventually and I came out of my delirium. Mother didn't know; if she had known, I never would have found out…
When I came out, I was very weak. I didn't have the energy to speak or do more then flutter my eyes. So I heard… I heard her, sitting at my bedside and crying, and she whispered that she wished she had never had children.

I… it's not her fault. She had no idea I could hear her and she would be horrified if she knew. It's a good thing, really, that I heard, because I never knew I had been such trouble – that I had been a burden on her, enough that she wished…"

Sara broke off and took a deep breath. Willy could see tears prickling at the corner of her eyes, but couldn't seem to move or think. What she was describing didn't seem like Mrs. Bucket at all – Mrs. Bucket couldn't have meant it – then again, his father probably hadn't meant it when he'd said… well…

A tall man all in white, face lined with worry and harshness.
"If you do go, I won't be here when you come back."

That hadn't stopped it from hurting. Or being true.

"Sara…"
"I'm sorry. My emotions got the better of me for a second."

She retreated again, a still automaton, as she continued.

"Obviously, after hearing that, I did not even try to go back to my old ways. I cutoff relations with my old friends and threw myself headlong into my schoolwork and helping out at home. I found that as my grades improved, I could make money by tutoring the other students and… helping… them with their homework. All the money I earned went to mother and father. And I never really played again – I saw no real point in it, with my leg. I worked, I studied, and I earned a small income for my family, and that was enough.

I excelled at school due to my study habits and rarely had less then an A in any given class. I didn't have to worry about gym, either, because of my leg… I'm just glad Charlie hadn't been born yet. I never had much of a social life. It's not that people were unfriendly, I just never had the time. And besides… mother and father needed the money I could earn, and I needed to grades to get into college on scholarship. I could never ask them to put me through; it would be a burden.

Eventually I did get accepted into a good school on full scholarship. Again, I worked constantly, earning money to send home and studying to keep my grades up. I graduated with honors and applied for a masters program.

The requirements for the masters program were very strict. I had come down with a slight cold and, well – I pushed myself a little too far. There was a paper that I had to turn in by a certain time in order to qualify. I stayed up all night finishing it, because I'd worked all day before.
The next few days, I was terribly ill. The dormitories were not well-heated, I'd been sick to begin with and then I'd stayed up all night… I was ill all week and missed the deadline. They offered to let me apply again next year, but I couldn't wait that long. So I got my job with the Bostwicks and… well… the rest isn't worth telling.

I am a failure. When I was young, I was a burden. When I finally had a chance to make something of myself and find a job that could help me support my family, I screwed myself over and lost it. So… that is why I don't smile. I have nothing, really, to smile about."

Willy had sat in silence throughout the rest of the story. When she finished, it took him a few minutes to fully process what she had said. Especially the last part. When he did, his reaction came as a surprise to both of them.
Gut wrenching pain seized him all of a sudden as the real reason why she never smiled dawned on him. There was no way she could be responsible for her family's poverty… she had no reason to hate herself… and yet, she did.

All appearances to the contrary, you see, Mr. Wonka was really quite a perceptive man, fully capable of understanding the human psych and reading between the lines. He simply preferred not to… because when you understood things like this, it ended up hurting.

He reached out to her. She took his hand, thinking he was maybe going to hold hers for a while. He thought so too, at the time… but when her hand touched his and ended up pulling her against him and hugging her fiercely. It was mostly because he didn't have the words; anything he could have said would have sounded ridiculous, meaningless platitudes.
Willy shifted a little to make it more comfortable for both of them. They were both kneeling now, though he made sure with a thoughtless kind of consideration that he bore the brunt of her weight. Her arms were crushed against his chest and his were wrapped tightly around her waist and back, his face pressed to the side of hers. Time stopped for them.
He felt her shoulders heave and tightened his grip on her as a few warm tears fell around his collar, rolling down his skin. He shuddered a little at the feel of them and was seized with a sudden urge to take his gloves off and touch her for real, without any barriers; to wipe her eyes and make her smile again.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know it would make you c-c-c – sad."
"It's fine, Will," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "This is been a long time in coming."

She took a few deep breaths to steady herself and pulled away.

"I'll be fine now."

He let her go, reaching out as they parted to tuck an errant strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Are you sure? 'Cause I don't mind being cried on or anything. I've got other suits, you know."

She smiled weakly. He thought he saw a bit of the glow he remembered – faded and dim but there – and froze.

"It's fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine. I… should probably go home now, I need to grade the Landon children's homework."
"Okay. I mean, if you're sure."
"Yes. Yes, I am."

Her earlier sorrow was already fading and being replaced by her strict control. She was retreating back into propriety and aloofness when all he wanted was to hold her and not let go, to fix things so that she would never cry again… it wasn't right for her to carry around that much hurt. He'd had to, for years and years before he saw his father again…
She was already standing and heading towards the elevator. He got to his feet and followed her.