A/Ns: Guess what this is, people? That's right. IT'S THE END. It is OVER. FINITO. FINIS. DONE.

The Alchemist is a lovely book, suitable for all ages, and all should read it.

If you can tear down the walls, throw your armor away
Remove all roadblocks, barricades
If you can forget that there are bandits and dragons to slay
And don't forget that you defend an empty space
And remember the tinman found he had what he thought he lacked
Remember the tinman – go find your heart, and take it back

- "Remember the Tinman," Tracy Chapman

Sara was sitting by the chocolate river, reading. Across the river, the Oompa Loompas were busy with their gardening, Grandpa Joe "supervising" by way of leaning against a rock-candy structure with his hat over his eyes. A little ways behind and to her right sat the crooked house of her childhood, where she knew that her mother was busy finishing dinner, as her father would soon be home.

She still worked on a part-time basis for the Landons, but perhaps she would soon stop that as well. She had never intended to be the kind of woman who stayed at home, at the mercy of the men in her life; then again, she had never intended to fall in love. At least not with Willy Wonka. She had done a great many things she had never intended to do over the past winter.

But it was winter no longer, and things were slowly settling into a new routine. She lived full-time at the factory now, in her own rooms (because her tiny little near-closet really wasn't enough for a woman full-grown), and the family was gradually knitting itself back together. Though her mother still tread carefully, and looked at her only daughter sometimes with tears in the corner of her eyes…

But that would go away in time, she was sure. She had faith.

The sound of movement behind her and warm arms came around her waist, pulling her against a strong torso, and a gloved hand came up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Whatcha reading?" Willy asked, in that particular way he had – not quite a boy, not fully a man. Sara relaxed into him as she answered. "A story, from when I was a little girl."

A small shift, a delicate tightening of his arms around her for a brief moment. She smiled, knowing what he wasn't quite sure he could ask, and began to read.

" 'The old man related that, a week before, he had been forced to appear before a miner, and had taken the form of a stone. The miner had abandoned everything to go mining for emeralds. For five years he had been working a certain river, and had examined hundreds of thousands of stones looking for an emerald. The miner was about to give it all up, right at the point when, if he were to examine just one more stone – just one more – he would find his emerald. Since the miner had sacrificed everything to his destiny, the old man decided to become involved. He transformed himself into a stone that rolled up to the miner's foot. The miner, with all the anger and frustration of his five fruitless years, picked up the stone and threw I aside. But he had thrown it with such force that it broke the stone it fell upon, and there, embedded in the broken stone, was the most beautiful emerald in the world.' "

Silence, and then he rested his chin on her shoulder.

"What book is that?"
"The Alchemist, by Paulo Coehlo."

He hummed deep in his throat, though she wasn't entirely sure that came from knowing the name of her book. Willy turned his head slightly, pressing his lips dry and cool against her neck.

"Have something to ask you," he mumbled.

"And what is it?"
"Well…" and she felt him stiffen has he searched for the right words. "It's just that, I really like having you – you know, here. With me. 'Cause you know I l - "

The word got caught in his throat, and she nodded. He had trouble saying the important things, but that was all right; it meant that when he did have something to say, it was important.

"I know. What did you want to ask?"

He muttered something so quickly she couldn't catch it.

"What was that?"
"Would you – do you want to, you know, maybe – um. Marry me."

She was silent for a long moment, a score of possible reactions stampeding through her head. She was, after all, so many different people – Ms. Bucket to her students, Mr. and Mrs. Bucket's crippled daughter to the old neighborhood, Charlie's older sister to relatives and family, a spinster with a bad leg and cold eyes to most others who knew her…

But finally she answered, not as any of those other people, but as Sara, who was only herself.

"Of course."
"Oh," he said, seeming slightly surprised at her ready agreement. "Oh. Well, that's all right, then."

Across the river, Grandpa Joe (who had been watching the whole scene, and heard them both quite clearly for a man of his age) let his hat fall back over his eyes and settled back against the rock candy. It was about time, he thought, and then drifted off as the Oompa Loompas worked around him with a new spring in their step, the information having already been relayed to the factory's entire population.

A few levels down and a couple hallways to the right, Charlie looked at the clock and realized that he was going to miss dinner if he didn't leave off his work and go home. But he was so close to getting it right… he bent his blonde head back over the formula and cursed for the first time as fingers made clumsy by the onset of adolescence betrayed him.

Mr. Bucket knocked his shoes carefully against the side of the house to avoid tracking slush into the home his wife was so proud of and stepped over the threshold, opening his arms to embrace and kiss Mrs. Bucket, who laughed as the scent of dinner made his stomach rumble. Grandpa George grumbled that he was late, while Grandma Josephine looked past him, out the window to the river where Sara and Willy sat together, and smiled. Grandma Georgina, lost in her own world, smiled in her slightly confused way and asked if the Queen had come yet.

And all around them the factory pulsed with a life of its own, white smoke streaming from its tall smokestacks and filling the air around it with the scent of melted chocolate. It felt the lives inside it, such small sparks glowing with such great light, and was content.

And they all lived happily ever after.