A/N: Sorry guys, this story's going a lot slower. I guess my heart's not truly in it as I like my Deppcharries eccentric and single, but I'm a try to keep it going some way or another!

Isabelle didn't know how long she'd been moving. The darkness had thrown her sense of time into distortion, but her captors continued to bear her onwards to where she did not know. She had tried struggling for at least a quarter of an hour but it seemed to have no effect on whoever or whatever was carrying her.

At last they stopped. There came the sound of squeaking followed by a metallic clang. Seconds later she was upended, tumbling out of the sack and falling down a steel chute.

Izzy splashed waist deep in a dark, viscous liquid. She cried out in shock. Panicking, she waded along, slamming her hands to every side but it was no use. She was trapped in a sealed tank.

"Let me out!" she screamed, battering her palms on the cylindrical wall.

The only response was a loud whirring. The drum of the chocolate mixer started to turn with the florist inside. She gasped and tried to keep herself upright, but she was tossed over and over into the sludge.

Isabelle choked.

I'm going to die, she thought. I'm going to die because I insulted a crazy billionaire.

And she began to drown.

Several floors above in the magnificent chocolate factory, a red light blinked from one side of a ceiling.

Willy Wonka rolled over in his burgundy, four-poster bed and looked up with bleary, purple eyes. As expected, his pyjamas hadn't deviated from his wine-coloured norm. He wore a floppy nightcap embroidered with a silver 'W'. He even slept in his violet plastic gloves.

The red light flashed repeatedly and a low-pitched buzzer sounded. Willy stared at the giant map painted on his bedroom ceiling – an immense blueprint of the most important rooms in his factory, each studded with a miniature bulb.

For a moment he imagined Charlie would come running into his room to explain what was happening, until he remembered he was alone. Except for the workers that is.

Mr Wonka squinted at the room with the blinking light – The Fudge Room.

"Dangit," he groaned. "I'll bet someone's slipped in the fudge barrel again. Really gotta make that opening smaller some day."

He threw aside his sheets and slid forward to the end of the bed where he poked his feet into a pair of plum velvet slippers. As soon as he had stood, the chocolatier was dashing through the winding corridors.

Moments later he shot out into the Fudge Room, having dived onto one of the most enormous slides ever invented – conveniently installed for emergencies such as these. He landed on his feet but stumbled.

Angle needs adjusting...

There was a crowd of Oompa Loompas in the room. All were gathered around the great fudge machine, cheering, even waving flags.

Mr Wonka frowned and walked over to them.

"What's goin' on here?" he shouted over the tumult.

There was a shocked silence. Every face turned to Willy. Every body froze.

"Well?" he demanded. "Spit it out, will ya? What's wrong with the machine?"

The Oompa Loompas shifted from foot to foot. They all looked at the floor.

Willy pushed through them to the only piece of equipment running. The fudge machine was a vast silver heffalump topped with perfect domes and intricate tubing. The part that was rumbling was a large chrome box attached to the side.

Mr Wonka cranked down a lever and the machine purred to a halt. He pulled out a bunch of keys from his pyjama pocket, at once knowing which was the one to open the mixer hatch (for Willy had memorised every key and if at any point he appeared to forget any one of them, it was always for show). After twirling it in the lock, he wrenched the mixer open.

When the chocolatier peered inside, he staggered in alarm.

"My terrible, terrible workers!" he cried. "What have you done?"

He pointed frantically at the machine as he turned to the Oompa Loompas.

"Get that person outta there, now!"

The little people rushed to obey and scrambled over one another as they dragged the limp woman out of the drum. Mr Wonka shooed them back and crouched beside her.

He reached out gingerly with a rubbery finger and poked the chocolate-coated body onto its back. Willy yelped and stifled himself with his palm. He watched the barely breathing form of the young florist in horror.

"You put Miss Vane in the fudge machine?" he gasped at his workers in disbelief. "You're all silly Snozzwangers. What did you wanna do? Kill her?"

The Oompa Loompas shook their heads, except a very small one at the front who was nodding gleefully. An elder elbowed it immediately, but too late to avoid their employer's disappointed expression. They all exchanged glances before the entire crowd bolted out of sight.

Willy knelt closer to Isabelle, not caring that his pyjama bottoms rested in a puddle of chocolate. He bit the knuckle of his index finger worriedly. With his other hand he tapped her gently on the face.

"Hey, lady, wake up," he pleaded. "Please wake up. I can't very well run a business behind bars now can I?" He giggled nervously.

Mr Wonka did not know CPR, and even if he did, he'd probably have felt embarrassed about it. So he made do with tapping his palm firmly below her chest. He had a feeling he should probably hit a bit higher but the chocolatier was somewhat apprehensive about that region of the opposite gender.

At last the girl coughed, heaving in long draughts of air.

Isabelle's eyes rolled wildly, frightening Willy into jolting away. When her breathing steadied and her vision was able to focus, she turned her gaze upon the anxious face of her rescuer.

She screamed.