A/Ns: Hi, it's me again, after a long long time away... and I have only bad news. I am afraid this fic is going to have to go on a bit of a hiatus. It's not that I've lost the desire to finish it - far from it, it will be finished - but The Real World is eating my soul and my muse has decided to run off a play Jedi. Yes, I will be starting a Star Wars fic. No, it is not the reason I am abandoning this one. Blame it on CatCF being out of theatres... barring Murphy's Law, probably the next time I'll really have the energy and the inspiration for this is when I get the DVD in November. But as I preordered it from I'll be getting it the very day it comes out!
I'm really sorry to do this to you, especially since we're so close to the end, but I can't force myself to write. It comes out all wrong. But this willbe finished before the new year. I promise.
Maybe I'll upload the final chapter on the stroke of midnight or something.
Without further ado... le fluff!

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My mind's distracted and diffused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you're asleep
And kiss you when you start your day
Now the song I was writing is left undone
I don't know why I spend my time
Writing songs I can't believe
With words that tear and strain to write

- "Kathy's Song," Simon & Garfunkel

The cold sun of a winter evening was coming through the windows of Willy Wonka's room in the factory, lying tentatively over the two people in the bed, on top of the covers. Sara was lying on her back, propped up by pillows – her bad leg had been giving her trouble with the changing weather and this was the most comfortable position for her. Willy was resting his head on her stomach, a little below her breasts, his eyes closed as he listened to her breathe. One of his hands (ungloved, but only for her – only ever for her) was cramped between their bodies, but this didn't matter so much because the other was settled gently on her abdomen, covering one of Sara's hands; her other hand was playing with his hair, her scent was all around him, and they probably weren't going to be disturbed for a good few hours.

Is it any wonder he was almost purring?

In the weeks that had passed since their first kiss, Willy had discovered that he quite enjoyed kissing Sara. She seemed to enjoy being kissed, as well; and there was a great deal of her to kiss, come to think of it. He was pretty sure there were some parts of her that he hadn't kissed, a horrible travesty which he would gladly rectify if she would let him; unfortunately, there were certain areas that were still out-of-bounds.

He'd fix that, too, eventually.

Willy closed his eyes, enjoying the knowledge that she was with him, on his bed, in his factory. It was rare that they could find time alone during her habitual weekend visits to her family – they'd only managed it this time by subterfuge. Her family thought he was showing her around the factory and to be perfectly honest, he had – just enough to satisfy any questions her family might have.

He did plan to show Sara the whole factory someday, but not for some time. Not until he was sure she'd stay.

He'd show her everyting, if she would stay. He couldn't give it to her – that would be ridiculous, it all belonged to Charlie anyway and she wouldn't make a good chocolatier and besides, she would never agree to anything that would involve hurting her little brother even if he'd offered. Which he wouldn't have. But he would give her everything else it was within his power to give, arrange her world so that nothing ever hurt her or made her sad; show her magic and wonderful things…

He let himself drift off into a fantasy that this was just one evening like many others. That she lived with him – that there was no urge to hide from her family out of fear of their reactions. Running the most successful candy business in the world could be very stressful. Was very stressful, now that he also had an heir to train. Sara made all that seem… less important somehow. All of the worries and the problems were still there, but it was like they belonged to someone else for a while. As long as he was with her…

Funny. A year ago – another lifetime, almost – he would have thought that was a distraction. Before he understood the point of family, of friends…

Of… that word.

He couldn't even bring himself to think it. So he made it part of his fantasy that he had already told her, and that she had told him, and they would live happily ever after. Together in the factory, with her family.

Sara was smiling softly without realizing it as she ran her fingers through Willy's hair. He really was inexcusably vain – imagine devoting a whole room to making haircare products! Still… he was a good man, for all of it.

A good man.

Her hand stilled. She should probably tell him now, while he was relaxed…

Willy shifted a little, aware something was wrong.

"Sara?"

She shivered a little at the sleepy hum in his voice. It had an odd effect on her – his voice when they were together and alone was different from his normal one. Lower, for one thing, and more focused… she was drifting.

"Will, I have something I need to tell you."
"What is it?"

With obvious reluctance, he disentangled himself and moved around the kneel facing her. She shifted herself so she was sitting a bit higher up on the bed.

"Will – the Landons are going to New York for a week, and taking their children – "
"So you can spend more time here?"

Sara could see the excitement in him bubbling over and quickly pressed the tips of her fingers to his lips, shutting him off.

"No. They're taking me – they don't want the children to fall too far behind."

He deflated.

"For a week?"
"The way you say it, you'd think I'd said it was a year."
"It might as well be!"

Willy glared at her as if it was all her fault. She raised an eyebrow. He let himself fall forward next to her and pressed his face into her shoulder.

"Can't you tell them you're sick? Or that someone else is sick?"
"That would be lying."
"But otherwise you'll be going away," he whined. "It's a special case!"
"We've been apart before – I don't live here, remember?"
I'm working on that. "But this is different. I mean – you were still close. New York is so far away…"
"It's only a week." And it will give me time to understand everything that's happened…

Willy, once he made up his mind about something, moved very quickly. In only three months, she had gone from despising him to almost… well, to caring deeply for him. It was too much, too soon, and it was all too easy to become lost in the fairy tale. She needed time away; time to think, and how could she tell him that? Doubt, fear, insecurity – they were things he had no experience with.
He shifted until he was lying on top of her and rested his head on her chest, the top of his head brushing her chin.

"I'll miss you."
"And I'll miss you. But I have to go – it's my job. I do need one, you know."
"You wouldn't if you came back to live in the factory."
"Will… we've discussed this before…"
"I know, I know…"

He raised his head and scooted upwards a little, capturing her mouth before the discussion could go any further. It was blatantly manipulative of him; almost cheating in a way, but not really because he really did like kissing her an awful lot and she seemed to like it as much as he did…

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A few hours later, it was time for Sara to leave. She had stayed for dinner with her family (and only had to elbow Willy once for doing highly inappropriate things with his hands to her under the table). They had been dutifully informed of her impending absence. Well-wishes ensued along with requests for postcards and frequent communication: Willy did as well, making it sound as though he was only joining in on what he presumed to be a "family thing" in one of his more subtle moments. Postcards and letters were promised, and then Willy excused himself to go check up on a few things brewing in the Inventing Room; Sara left a little while later, after a round of hugs and so forth.

It was not entirely a surprise when she was grabbed immediately upon leaving the Chocolate Room and pulled up against a warm, solid, decidedly male body.

"Wanted to say goodbye," Willy muttered, wrapping his arms around her.
"You just did…" she said breathlessly.

He didn't bother responding; instead he brought his lips down on hers. Hard. He was far more forceful and demanding then he'd ever been; she lost a good few seconds to confusion before she could respond, bringing her arms up and around his back to clutch his shoulders and press closer against him. He bore the brunt of her weight now; if he had been a little bit stronger, he would be lifting her off the ground. The sensation was dizzying… being this close, this… not controlled exactly… this possessed by another person. And he was possessive, in a quiet sort of way. There were certain things in the world that were his – the factory, his recipes, Charlie, the Buckets (herself now as well, Sara supposed) – and damaging them or trying to take them away would devastate him – and later, lead to creative acts of revenge. The newspapers had never gotten their hands on the stories of the interesting personal humiliations and near-tragedies the candymakers who had stolen from him had suffered after he'd closed the factory.

The kiss broke off due to a mutual need for air and Willy slowly loosened his hold on her, resting his forehead against hers.

"I'm going to miss you. I mean, really miss you. Are you sure you have to go?"
"Yes. I'm quite sure. I'll miss you as well…"

One of his hands had started playing with the tassel of her scarf.

"Hey – Sara – can I keep this?"
"My scarf?"
"Yeah. I'll give you one of mine – but I don't have anything of yours, really, and…"

He trailed off, not sure how to say what he wanted to say. It wasn't as if he thought he'd forget her – how could he? But he knew the scarf would smell like her, and he'd always been a highly sensory person; it was what made him so much better than all the other candymakers. He could pick out subtle differences in taste and texture and scent that no one else had even guessed existed. And scent was the most evocative sense; if he had something that smelled like her, it would be the closest he could get to actually having her there.

Sara took off her scarf.

"I suppose you can have it… here."

He took it and draped it around his own neck, looking through his pockets.

"I know I have one of mine here. I keep it for emergencies."
"Emergencies?"
"Well, you never know. I might get stuck somewhere cold, or develop a sore throat, or suddenly be transported to Siberia."
"I see."

He found it, finally, in one of the inner pockets, and gave it to her. She wrapped it around her neck in preparation for the cold outside and shivered a little. His smell was all over it – chocolate and something underneath it, something clean and fresh and male…

Willy hugged her close and kissed her again, more gently then the last time. She let him, but didn't respond. Sara knew from past experience that if she responded to his goodbye kisses the way she wanted to, goodbyes would end up taking for too much time and become in serious danger of never happening.

"I'm not going to be able to see you for a whole week… you'll write, right?"
"Every day. I promise."
"Good."

And with that he let her go, reluctantly, and stood watching as she walked out of the factory. Before going out the door, she turned and waved at him, shyly. He lifted a hand and wiggled his fingers, feeling his heart plummet.

How was he going to survive the next week?

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One way or another, he made it through the week. Mostly he kept himself busy and pointedly ignored the comments the Oompa-Loompas made behind his back about pining lovers. (It was impossible to keep secrets from them, so he'd just gone and told them about Sara; it turned out they had known from the beginning). Charlie seemed to assume his mentor was just going through one of his occasional manic phases, and didn't notice how forced it was.

It seemed next Sunday would never come, but eventually it was Saturday night. Sara had phoned to say that her plane would be arriving tomorrow. Everyone had noticed how Mr. Wonka had perked up at the news, but no one made any note of it. It was fairly obvious that he preferred having the family near him. Still, he was more gregarious Saturday night then he had been all week; but any suspicions they might have had were swiftly quelled by remembering Sara's basic personality. She was far too sensible to attract someone like him; besides, he's never shown any interest in either sex.

Sunday came at last. Sara's plane was coming in early in the morning, early enough that she had instructed everyone not to bother coming to meet her at the airport. She would come to the factory around lunchtime.

Fifteen minutes to noon found Willy standing in the entrance hall, shifting impatiently from one foot to another and staring at the door as though willing it to open.

Five minutes passed and he didn't move.

Five more minutes passed and he began to pace.

At a little past noon, the door finally opened.

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Sara felt more at peace with herself then she had in twenty years as she entered the factory. Time away had been exactly what she'd needed; it had given her time to think and examine her feelings; time to plan, and go over the nuances of everything that had happened since that night.
Somewhere between the Museum of Natural History and the Statue of Liberty, she had come to the realization that she was in love with Willy Wonka. He was exasperating, demanding, incorrigible, and completely irresponsible… and she loved him. If she looked back, she had probably begun to love him the night of the play, when he had so innocently offered to give her some of his ability to believe, to have faith in a happy ending…

The realization hadn't come easily. It wasn't as though she wanted to be in love with him. Loving him – loving in general would be dangerous. It would involve leaving herself vulnerable to someone else.

She wasn't even sure she could tell him.

He had been waiting for her, and hurried towards her as she entered, his long legs eating up the distance between them. She could not move as quickly because of her cane but he more than made up for her disability, soon catching her up in a bear hug and kissing her fiercely. She responded without any hesitation, running her free hand up his chest and around his neck.

"Missed you," he said when the kiss broke, not breaking their embrace. She sighed and rested against him, the top of her head just brushing his chin and he shifted to bear her weight, compensating for her bad balance without thinking.

"I missed you, too."

There was a new note in her voice, but he dismissed it fairly quickly. She was just glad to be home, he was sure. Except now she was pulling away slightly and casting her eyes down, which… might not be very good.

"I… I did some thinking while I was away."

His stomach did an interesting kind of twist.

"About what?"
"I was thinking…" she took a breath. "I'm not sure how to say this. But, I think… I think maybe it's time we told the family – my family. About us. You know…"

She gestured absently, indicating them, the space between them, the whole confusing wonderful mix that was them as a unit. Willy's stomach untwisted and then promptly twisted itself up again.

"What if they don't… you know, like it?"

Sara raised her chin a little.

"Well, they'll just have to live with it, won't they?"