A/N's: I'm back! With angst. Beware! Also, there's only two chapters to go in this. We approacheth the end. Finally.

No commotion, no screaming brakes
Most of it's over before I awake
From the ceiling, my coffee cup drips
While out my window, the horizon does flips
The worst part was hitting the ground -
Not the feeling so much as the sound
Can't help but wonder if all this is real
Cause tonight is the night I fell asleep at the wheel

- "Tonight Is The Night I Fell Asleep At The Wheel," Barenaked Ladies

"Mother?"

Mrs. Bucket looked up. Sara took a deep breath. Willy squeezed her hand and stood a little closer. Mr. Bucket also looked up, and frowned. Mr. Wonka was no physically affectionate as a rule.

"Um. Actually, everyone… there's something we need to tell you."

She had to pause there, to breathe. The words were coming easily – too easily – she felt on the verge of hysteria. For all her glib words, her family's acceptance of this was critical. If they didn't approve of the pairing…
She breathed deeply and spoke without allowing herself to think about what she was saying.

"For some time now, Mr. Wonka – Will – and I have been… seeing each other. In – more than socially, I mean. We… thought it was time you knew."

You could hear a pin drop. Mrs. Bucket let the plates she had been setting out almost drop on the table; if they had been more than a few inches above the wood, they would have broken. Mr. Bucket slowly folded his newspaper. The grandparents just stared, and Charlie looked puzzled.

"What do you mean?" he said, finally.

Sara took a deep breath.

"It means, Charlie… that we've been going out. Dating."

There. It was said.

The rest of the family was still frozen. Sara felt the world tilt for a second, her nerves getting the best of her. Again, only Charlie reacted.

"So… does that mean Mr. Wonka's your boyfriend?"

Sarah and Willy looked at each other. He shrugged. She looked back at Charlie.

"I suppose it does."
"Well, that just makes him even more part of the family, doesn't it?"

Before Sara could respond, her mother spoke up.

"Dear… are you… well, have you thought this through?"
"Yes, mother, I have."
"It's only – well, no offense to you, Mr. Wonka, but you don't seem quite…"
"Compatible."

That was Mr. Bucket.

"You're a very sensible girl, Sara, and Mr. Wonka is frankly, well…"
"Flighty."

That was Grandpa George.

"He's got his head in the air half the time, and you – "
"You've always been very grounded, dear."

Grandma Josephine.

"I remember back when you were in high school. You were always studying, never had any time for boys or parties. We'd always thought that if you settled down, it would be with someone a bit more…"
"Grounded."

Mrs. Bucket again. Curiously, Grandpa Joe had remained silent throughout the entire exchange.

"I know all of that," Sara said, somewhat weakly. "It doesn't change anything…"
"But dear…"
"Mother, really. I'm old enough to make my own choices."
"We just don't want you to be unhappy – "
"She's not going to be unhappy!"

The family turned to stare at Mr. Wonka. He looked slightly abashed at his uncharacteristic outburst – it wasn't in his nature to snap at people – but soldiered onward.

"Just because she's always been a certain way doesn't mean she's going to be that way forever. Maybe she just likes me – I mean, I like her, a lot, so why can't she like me back?"
"Mr. Wonka… it's got nothing to do with you," Mr. Bucket ventured. "It's only that this is so out-of-character for Sara…"
"You don't even know her!"

Sara's eyes widened and she tried to speak, to cut off what she knew was coming –

"She's spent her entire life never doing anything fun or interesting because she didn't want to be a burden on anyone, because of… something she heard when she was sick, after she broke her leg! That's the only reason you all think she's sensible and grounded and all of it. Because she never let herself be anything else! And she thinks she's a failure because she ended up not getting into that graduate program, even though she's not, but I can't convince her because she's spent her whole life beating up on herself! And that's not fair, because she's smart and nice and beautiful and I l – really, really like her, so all of you just back off!"

They stared at him. He sort of shrank into himself.

"It's just… well, I don't see how it's any of your business," he finished, lamely. Slowly, the family's stares shifted over to Sara, who had let go of Willy's hand in her shock and was standing, mortified, her free hand limp at her side, leaning more heavily than usual on her cane.

It was Mrs. Bucket who broke the silence.

"Sara… is this true?"
"I… it's… sort of. But it's not that bad, really, I… it was my choice…"

Her voice was weak. Mrs. Bucket let out a kind of moan and sat down heavily.

"When you were sick… what you heard… was it…?"

Sara looked quietly at her mother, her expression the serene one that accompanies the realization that a situation has spun completely out of control.

"Yes. It was… when you said you… wished you'd never…"

She couldn't finish the sentence, and perhaps that was best, because tears were already starting to run down her mother's face. It was Charlie, characteristically, who went up to Mr. Wonka and said what needed to be said with his usual artless honesty.

"I think maybe you should wait outside for a little while."

Willy was miserable. He had only been miserable a few times before – when his father left, when he closed the factory, in the aftermath of the Golden Tickets – but he recognized the feeling. It was like having a soaking-wet towel dropped on you from a great height; being weighed down by something so heavy you couldn't possibly carry it.

He had gone far enough away so that he could hear their voices, but not make out the individual words. It had gone like this – murmurs, shouts, crying, a little more shouting, murmurs, and now almost total silence. But no one had come out yet, and he wasn't about to go back in.

Footsteps on the grass behind him made him lift his head from his arms and turn to look at the person who sat down beside him. It was Sara. He wanted to hold her, to have her tell him that everything was alright, that he hadn't messed up too badly – but somehow he knew that wasn't the case.

For a time, they were silent. And then Sara spoke.

"Do you realize what you did?"

Her voice was quiet, and soft, but he still flinched at it.

"Um. Maybe?"
"That's hardly an answer."
"I… I know it was a secret, but – I just – the way they were talking to you – it wasn't fair."
"Of course it wasn't. I… I'm grateful you defended me, Will, but what you did… there was a reason I never told them that. Now mother and father think they did something horribly wrong, and they never did. It was my choice, all of it. You knew that."
No, it wasn't, he wanted to say. But he didn't have the words to express how it wasn't, and it was quite possible he was wrong. He did tend to be, about these things.
"You knew what I told you was a secret."
"…yes."
"And you told them anyway."
"I didn't know what else to do. I wasn't thinking…"
"That's exactly it. You never think, do you?" He voice was still quiet and even, and somehow that was worse than having her yell at him. "You just barge ahead and assume everything will work out in the end. But what if it doesn't? What do you do then?"

She sighed.

"Everything seemed so simple when I came back. Now… I'm not sure anymore, Will. I think… Well, I need some more time to think. Time away from the factory."

Away from you, she was really saying, and at that moment he felt something snap in his chest.

"I guess…" he said, in a very small voice. "If that's what you need."
"It is."

She stood and began to walk away. He panicked.

"Sara!"

She stopped and turned.

"Yes?"
"I… I'm sorry."

She smiled at him, soft and sad.

"I know." But that might not be enough.

So for the second time, she left. He stayed there for a long time, watching the waterfall from a distance.

But he didn't cry. Because he was Willy Wonka, and he never cried.