A/Ns: Yes, it's finally here... but hopefully worth the wait. You'll see.

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So I pretended to have wings for my arms and took off in the air
I flew to places which the clouds never see, too close to the deserts of sand\
Where a thousand mirages, the shepherds of lies
Forced me to land and take a disguise
I would welcome a horse's kick to send me back
If I could find a horse not made of sand
If this desert's all there'll ever be then tell me what becomes of me?
A fall of rain?
That must have been another of your dreams.

- "Mad Man Mood," Genesis

The ride back was silent. Sara didn't look at him once, looking straight ahead without really seeing. She knew Willy kept glancing at her, worry creasing his smooth features, but she ignored him. She'd had no right to speak as she had – she had been caught off-guard by the entire situation, otherwise she never would have shared that much. Not even her family knew what she had heard when she was ten, or how it had affected her. For twenty years she'd kept it a secret and now she'd blurted it out to the first person to ask!

Relief spread through her body as her building came into view and she unconsciously took a step forward as the elevator lowered itself to the ground. This was a mistake – all it took was a small jolt when she was already unbalanced and she felt one of the more terrifying sensations for a cripple; that of all her weight shifting onto her bad leg, the leg crumbling beneath her as she fell, unable to stop herself –

Two warm arms grabbed her and pulled her up, in and close. She blinked upwards and found herself staring straight into Willy's eyes and leaning heavily on him; her cane had gone flying. She was pressed up against him in what was really a very… intimate… manner.

His eyes searched her face. Sara's breath caught and she gripped his upper arms, trying to brace herself but unable to stop leaning in towards him. She thought dimly that he must have no idea how devastatingly handsome he was, or perhaps far too much of an idea…

She didn't realize that her lips had parted slightly as she tipped her face up to stare at him.

Still, it didn't come as much of a surprise when he kissed her.

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Willy hadn't thought when he saw Sara fall – he'd just reacted, catching her and drawing her up and against him before one thought became another. He hadn't been prepared for how easily she'd fit against him, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise. He tightened his grip, wanting to do something to alleviate the heavy ache that had become a low-key if permanent companion in her presence. He didn't know what…

He did know.

She grabbed his upper arms with her smaller hands in an almost bruising grip before relaxing. He barely noticed – he was too busy studying her face, trying to memorize the moment, trying to read in her eyes if she would mind him doing what he really, really wanted to do, coming so close on the heels of her confession. He had a dim idea that she might prefer to be alone…

But he wanted to!

Putting desire to action without further thought, he bent his head and kissed her. It was sweet – sweeter than anything, except maybe the first candy he'd ever tasted. The sensation was something akin to that; the discovery of an entirely new flavor, something never before dreamed of but with subtleties he could cheerfully spend the rest of his life exploring. His memories of the drugged night were as fogged as hers – this was the first time he'd kissed Sara Bucket of his own free will.
Her hands slid up and around his neck as he changed the angle of the kiss slightly, daring to deepen it just a little. She was soft beneath his hands as they dropped down to hold her waist, slid down onto her hips. The cloth of her skirt was suddenly a barrier; he was aware of the skin beneath it in a way he was unused to. He didn't want it to be there – he didn't want them to be where they were – he wanted them to be somewhere else, where he could do… something… there were no words for it he was willing to use, they were all too coarse and the straightforward.

Sara had almost pulled back when he kissed her. It was the proper thing to do – the sensible thing to do. But sensible was a word she tended to forget the meaning of whenever he was near her; he was the antithesis of sensible. She let her arms twine around his neck and leaned in as he deepened the kiss, responding without knowing what she was doing, arcing up into him and aching…
His hands slid down to her waist, still supporting her, but now she knew he was touching her simply to be touching her, his fingers brushing tentatively over her curves. She wanted to lower her arms all of a sudden, to explore the alien, straight planes of a man's body – his body – the lines she could feel pressed against her. He was so maddeningly gentle… as thought he was afraid she would break.

The kiss broke naturally, though they kept their faces still close enough to touch. She was leaning against him now, and it occurred to Willy that he would cheerfully bear her weight forever it meant he could kiss her whenever he wanted. She looked down and then quickly away, afraid to look at his pale skin. The more she saw, the harder it would be to leave.

"I should probably go inside now…"

She wanted to stay. Willy brought one hand up and ran a gloved finger along her cheek.

"I wish…"
"What is it?"
"Nothing. I just – if I asked – would you come back to the factory? Please?"
"Why?"
"I don't know. I… I don't like it when you're not around." I want you with me.

Sara didn't say anything. She wasn't sure how to respond; this thing was entirely too new, too alien. If she did go back, what then? They couldn't hide what was happening forever. Should they even be hiding it now? How did you reveal something like this?

"I'll think about it. Maybe someday."

It was the best she could offer.

He made a sound that was almost like a sigh and pressed his lips briefly to her cheek. She shivered at the light contact, and he was reluctant to draw away and let her go; he wanted so badly for her to stay with him.

Of course, he'd wanted her to smile for him with an equal kind of desperation, and look how that had turned out. Willy may not have been the most perceptive man alive when it came to social matters, but he did learn quickly.

"Sure. I mean. Yeah. That's fine. Um. Good night, I guess."
"Good night."

Sara stepped out of the elevator, fighting back the sudden impulse to turn back and tell him yes, yes, she would go back, she would stay in the factory, she would learn to smile for him.

She brushed her fingers across her lips.

He had been so unfailingly gentle in his kiss!

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Willy shifted his weight onto his heels as he watched Sara walk away. He thought that maybe she would change her mind – turn around and come back with him. He wouldn't even let her bother packing, it would be easy to come back and get what she needed – he'd just take her away, back to the factory, where he could control things and fix it so that nothing would ever make her sad again – so that she'd always smile for him.

She didn't turn around. After a while he set the elevator in motion again, not turning away until her apartment house was no more then a speck in the distance blurring in with all the other houses on that block. By then the factory was coming into a view and that gave him something to focus on; anything to keep his mind from wandering back to the way she'd felt pressed up against him. Not that it had been unpleasant in any way. But it was tempting to simply think about her, and it, and her and him together and do nothing else while there were candies to be made, an apprentice to train, and the inevitable small disasters to manage.

He still hadn't managed to place her scent.

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Sara felt giddy as she unlocked the front door of the townhouse. It was a rare feeling for her; she wasn't even sure what she was feeling really was giddiness, as she was going off some very dim memories. But… he had kissed her! He had kissed her and she had kissed him and it had been wonderful.
A soft, shy smile crossed her lips. She had found that she often smiled when she thought of Willy; there was so much of him to smile about. His awkwardness, his caring, the way he lit up when he'd discovered something that pleased her – his devotion to her family – the way his hands would tentatively brush against her, drawing back after the briefest of touches. The way he had of throwing himself headfirst into any project that came to mind… he seemed incapable of moderation and in anyone else it would have drive her insane but not with him. For Willy Wonka to do something moderately – now that would be a crime.

And what can you offer him, Sara?

Her expression darkened. That was the biggest question for her. She was not by nature a passionate person; he was. And it was true that he had a way of drawing it out of her, and it was equally true that he seemed completely devoted… but so did most passionate people. It was entirely likely that she would end up serving as a kind of stepping-stone for him to the world outside – he couldn't possibly maintain his interest in someone as mousy and plain as her for long. Not that she suspected any maliciousness on his part but she was very old, in her fashion, and this was how things worked for people like her. She had seen it many times before.

There was nothing to do for now but enjoy the ride, and try to brace for the inevitable impact of the end.

She was lost enough in her thoughts that she didn't notice Arthur standing on the first flight of stairs until he reached an arm out to grab her, almost causing her to overbalance. Sara squeaked in a most undignified way as she fought for secure footing, reaching across his torso and grabbing the handrail.

"Arthur – what are you doing back so early?"
"Early? Sara, it's past six."
"Is it now?"

And that was another thing – time had a strange way of slipping by in large chunks when she was with Willy. Whole hours would be lost and she'd have no idea where they went.

"Yes – Sara – who was that man?"
"What man?"

Sara stepped down onto the stair below where Arthur was standing, looking up at him. Something was different about him – a tension she hadn't seen before in her easygoing upstairs neighbor radiated from his body.

"The man you were just with. Who… kissed you."

He spat the words out like poison and Sara's mind went blank as she realized what was going on.

"That was the man who had been sending me those flowers – remember? We have been seeing each other for some time now."
"How long?"
"A month and a half, not that it's any of your business."

Sara drew herself up, the last remnants of the gleeful fog the kiss had caused wiped form her mind by the conflict she could sense building. Arthur tensed further, mulling over her statement.

"I thought you liked me," he said finally, almost whining it out. Like a child who's not gotten the treat he wanted, Sara thought briefly.
"And whatever did I do to give you that impression?"
"You invited me in – and we talked – and – "
"And did it occur to you that I was only being friendly?"
"You were sending off the right signals!"
"What does that have to do with anything? You hesitated – he did not. It's really that simple!"
"But I like you!"
"So does he! And I might add that he is a good deal better at expressing it than you!"

Not giving him a chance to respond, Sara stalked around him and up the stairs to her landing. She ignored the fact that he was staring after her, unlocked her door, and locked it again the minute she was inside before stumbling over to sink down into one of her chairs.

This is the last thing I need…