Miya Sparrow: Me? Remind you of Willy? :blushes and fluffs up hair: So I've been told . . . hahahahaa just kidding . . . Though I suppose that is a high compliment, in our case, so thank you! :tips hat (she happens to be wearing): . . . I'm soooo excited you liked it! And I'm already really excited that the movie is coming out in

2 DAAAAAYYYYYYYYYSSSSSSS

So I hope I don't have a spaz attack of a seizure or something. O.o I'm so glad you're liking it though. I have to say I absolutely looove writing it! Know why? KNOW WHY? Because it's just a follow up on the movie! Just like you said! Yah! After I saw it, all I craved was more of the movie, and all the time I'd be thinking up things that could have happened after we left off, and then this story just popped up! I'm glad you liked that idea too. . . And yah, I always thought Violet kind of learned something. She seemed to be just happy that she was so flexible. But the others (with the exception of Mike; he didn't say anything) were still the same and their p-mbhh- . . . :gulp: m-Mmoms and dads . . . were the ones who learned something. But even if their kids didn't, I think they'll be able to teach 'em a thing or two now . . .

Utou: Wow, you have absolutely no idea how good that made me feel! I'm so sorry you had to make an account to review my story; I didn't even know I had that on! I changed it now, so anyone can review- And yah, the title wasn't really a title (at least I have one now), and it sounded a little nOObish because, go figure, I'm kinda a noob. (quick question; is there a difference between noob and newbie. . .? :nervous giggle:) But thank you soooooo much, utou! Really, that made me feel so good! Yes, I looooove using wacky wild weird way out off the wall words in my stories! It's sooo fun and alliterational! And it's such a relief to hear Wonka is in-character. :phew: I'm always worried I'm doing too much or too little or simply something he wouldn't do at all when I write, so it's such liberation to know when I do well with that. Thanks so much, you deserve all the Wonka bars in the world! (and trust me, a review is NEVER too long)

Demidevil: That was YOU? YOU sent that nasty little Whangdoodle thing over here? :glare: Well, you're just lucky I liked your review or I'd have to sick my pet Lollydoodle on you. By the way, though, thanks for being such a great reviewer this whole time. It's nice to see a review from you every time I check in . . .

Boogle: (I love your name. Boooogle, it's so fun to say) Thanks a bunch, and I love the "bless". :giggle: Not cuz I'm like super religious or anything like that, I dunno why I liked it. I'm just easily pleased I guess. (Oh my gosh, I just read your bio and you're my age and you like Outkast and Maroon 5 too and your from England AHAHHHH GO ENGLAND!)

:giggle: Woot!

Thanks, you guys, this really helps since I'm kinda new to this. You're the best. :hugs and candy:

Chapter 5

A Visit to the Tooth Fairy

Squeak squeak squeak.

". . . And on June 6, 1944, General Eisenhower led his troops through the English Channel in Operation Overlord. . ."

Squeak squeak squeak.

". . . Normandy, to free France from German rule. . ."

Squeak squeak squeak.

". . . the Battle of Midway took place, where the Japanese navy. . ."

Squeak squeak squeak.

". . . four carriers, crippling their forces, and marking. . ."

Squeak squeak squeak squeak.

". . . and marking. . ."

Squeak squeak squeak.

Miss Macintosh frowned and turned around to her class. "Who's doing that?" she asked, eyeing them with mild suspicion. All the students looked up from their notes curiously. The teacher put her hands on her hips, and everyone looked down at their pens and pencils, testing them on their papers. Miss Macintosh frowned again, then turned around and slid her diminishing stub of chalk on the board. It produced a light squeaking. She sighed and rubbed her temple.

"Dear. . ." she muttered to herself. She turned back around and opened her desk drawer, fumbling through its messy inside, then stood back up. She waved her hand vaguely at the class, her other hand on her forehead. "Here, um . . . who's that in the back, Charlie Bucket?" she addressed, squinting over her spectacles. The small boy near the back of the room looked up.

"Mum'?" The teacher nodded and gestured towards the door.

"Yes, could you run over to the supply room across the building and fetch me a new box of chalk?" Charlie nodded.

"Yes Mum'," he said as he closed his notebook and stood up with his jacket to carefully make his way through the desks and out the door. Charlie softly shut it behind him, stuffing his hands into his pockets, and started down the corridor. His footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, and left a shuffling sound bouncing off the walls. Charlie took his hands back out of his pockets, breathed into them and rubbed them together, then placed them back in. The school's heating had blown a fuse the other day, and many of the students had begun to claim they saw it snowing down by the nurse's room.

The weather outside had indeed been dire lately for early March, and indoors without heating wasn't much better. His mother had continued her usual bundling him up with layers and layers of clothing for his walks to and from school; the one time Charlie had objected to dressing up like an Eskimo every day, Mrs. Bucket had told him she was sure his nose would fall right off it didn't warm up. But this hadn't occurred yet, so Charlie didn't have much else to worry about.

The students weren't allowed to wear their coats in the classroom, so Charlie was truthfully grateful he had an excuse to move around and get his circulation flowing again, if his blood hadn't already frozen in his body. He stopped at an intersection in the hallway, rubbed his hands together again, then went to the left. He'd take the long way.

Charlie didn't know how his family would have survived such a bitter climate before. Their old living status had served them well in the summer, when it was warm and the comfortable breeze that drifted through the occasional holes in the walls was happily welcomed. But after the last autumn leaf fell to the ground, and the breeze turned rigid, comfort was difficult to come by. There were winters when the family was sure their little dollhouse-like home would shatter into a million pieces if one more gust of wind hit against their thin ramparts. Charlie smiled a little to himself; Mr. Wonka had gotten there just in time.

Just a few weeks ago had Charlie and his family moved into Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, and what a few weeks it had been! This little boy was now beginning to realize how incredible, implausible, inconceivable, unimaginable, extraordinary, and truly amazing the factory was. What he'd seen on the tour hadn't been a fraction of the wonders it held inside. And, as Mr. Willy Wonka's official heir, it was now for him to see it all.

Over the past few weeks, the chocolatier and his heir had sowed the jelly beanstalks, shot stars in their pies, charged the electric buns, straightened out the sweets to be wriggled, wound up the whizzdoodles, pollinated the honeycombs and brushes, and only seen a corner of the factory. Mr. Wonka had certainly been right when he said there was more to see than just the rooms on the buttons in the Great Glass Elevator (and there were quite a lot of buttons).

At first Charlie had simply been in awe of it all. Now, that awe had been set aside in his mind and all he thought was, "What now, Mr. Wonka?" He couldn't wait to see it all. Every day he was always at the door in an instant when he heard the familiar rap! rap! rap! behind it. That was when the boy's day really began.

Charlie stopped in front of the supply room's closed doorway and read the messily written sign on the front.

Supply Room closed.

Go to teacher's lounge.

Charlie peeked through the door's dark window and saw the supply closet empty. Saving money, he supposed. He'd rather have a heating system than new school supplies anyway. He turned around and started down the hallway to the right towards the teacher's lounge. He got to the door, and it was slightly cracked open. There were a few people inside talking.

". . . to heat the building!"

"I know . . . the company we get them from has stopped. I don't know why."

"I heard they've temporarily gone out of business because the industry they get the wood to make their books and paper and pencils has stopped producing."

"Well they should get a new industry to get it from!-" Charlie gently knocked on the door, and the voices stopped. There was a pause. "Yes?" one said, and Charlie opened the door.

"Miss Macintosh sent me for a box of chalk," he said quietly. One of the teachers at the table sighed and rocked back in their chair. He swung open a rickety little cabinet behind him and pulled out a box, then leaned his chair back to the ground and handed it to Charlie. "Thank you," Charlie said politely, and walked back out the door, closing it softly behind him. Just before it clicked shut, Charlie overheard a grumpy voice say, "I swear, if they don't get more supplies to sell and pay for some blasted heat, I'm doing something about it myself!"

Charlie began walking down the arctic hallway once again, gripping the little box of chalk in his whitely cold hand. He had wondered why the supplies had gone so low. No wonder the school was so cold. Charlie stopped suddenly and looked at his watch; he'd been gone far too long, class would be nearly over by now. He let out a breath and shuffled down the hallway, skidding at the corner and running down the next. He shouldn't have taken the long way to the supply closet.

Charlie suddenly stumbled, but caught himself and kept going. He looked down and saw that one of his shoes were untied. He'd get to that once he was back in class. He knew it'd be a mistake to make Miss Macintosh wait any longer; she was probably already disgruntled that he'd taken this long. Charlie was in the middle of scolding himself when a sudden "Look OUT!" brought his attention up from his shoes to the door that swung open in front of his face-

SLAM!

Rap rap rap.

No answer.

Rap rap rap.

No answer. There was a pause.

Rap, rap rap rap, rap. . . Rap! Rap!

Shuffling was heard from inside the little Bucket house, and suddenly there came a painful sounding squeak, followed by, "Come in!" Willy Wonka entered the cottage cautiously. Mr. Bucket was holding a tray of ice behind his wife, and Mrs. Bucket was hovering over the chair where Charlie sat, holding an ice-filled towel and a hand full of cotton wads. She looked up at Wonka and sighed.

"Oh, hello Mr. Wonka," she said wearily, then glanced over at Charlie, grabbing a handful of tissue and stuffing it into his hand. Wonka tilted his head like one does when looking under a table, and raised an eyebrow as he cautiously came forward. Charlie was holding the cotton that filled his mouth in place. Wonka gave a very perplexed look to the boy's mother.

"Charlie's jammed his mouth," she sighed in dismay, then looked down at him with curiosity. "Apparently he ran into a door. . ." Charlie blushed. Wonka tried to hide a stubborn smile, and Mrs. Bucket continued. "Mr. Bucket was called at work and brought him home from school a bit early. His teacher was full of apologies . . . as she seems to be the one who opened the door." She put her hands on her waist. "We still haven't been able to figure why he was running, though." Charlie worked his jaw and made a noise around the cotton. Mrs. Bucket looked back up to Wonka. "He hasn't been able to talk." Charlie worked his jaw again.

"Muuuhfffnm, iii'shhf phhffiinnmmg." Mrs. Bucket pulled the cotton out of his mouth. He swallowed. "It's fine, mum, I-" His mother cut him off by grabbing onto his jaw and craning it open to look inside. She stood back up and picked up the towel of ice.

"The bleeding's stopped at least." Wonka made an unsettled feeling face. Mrs. Bucket laid the pack ice onto her son's jaw, and he held it in place. She released a breath and turned to the table behind her. "He's lost a tooth, though." Wonka's eyes widened. "Just a baby one," she assured as she pointed to her cheek, "Right in back. He was going to loose it anyway, it was just knocked out a bit sooner." She held up a little plate from on the table with a small white tooth resting on it, then set it back down. Mr. Bucket turned to her.

"We really should have this checked though, dear," he said. Mrs. Bucket nodded, and Wonka carefully made his way to the table where the little plate sat. He bent down and looked at the tooth on it, curiously plucking it up with his fingertips, and turning it around for inspection. Mrs. Bucket continued to her husband.

"A doctor will do I suppose, even if it isn't major. Just to make sure everything's in order."

"But for teeth, dear? I don't know where we might find a dentist . . ."

"What about Doctor Wonka?" asked Charlie suddenly, having taken the ice out of his mouth. Wonka abruptly dropped the little tooth back onto the plate with a tink.

"Huh?" Charlie spared a quick glance to the wide eyed chocolatier, then looked back to his mother.

"Mr. Wonka's father. He's a dentist." Mrs. Bucket smiled interestedly and looked over at Wonka.

"Oh is he, Mr. Wonka? I didn't know that." Wonka looked to her and gave a quick pretend smile that quickly wore away as she turned back around to her husband.

"Well why not him, since he's a dentist? He'll know if there's anything to be done with Charlie and his tooth here." Mr. Bucket nodded then looked to Wonka.

"How's that then, sir. How far does he live?"

"We can use the elevator, dad. It has a button for his house," noted Charlie. Mrs. Bucket smiled.

"Oh, splendid! Can you take us there, Mr. Wonka?" Wonka opened his mouth, then after a moment let out a breath.

"Yah . . . sure." He echoed from the last time the subject came up. He turned around and started out the door, leaving the Buckets slightly confused by his manner. It swung shut behind him, and he made his way around to the little patch of grass in front of the house. He swallowed a gulp of air and cleared his throat. Wonka wasn't sure he wanted to go back to see his dad; he wasn't sure it was such a good idea. . .

But he'd already been through that once with himself, and telling himself it again wouldn't do any good. Nobody liked to be lectured, especially not Willy Wonka, and Willy Wonka knew that. It'd be better to tell himself to think on the positive side. Wonka would listen to himself when it was about something good. So the positive side it was; . . . he'd get some fresh air, some chance to go outside . . . though he didn't really like it outside, but it was probably good for him or something. He'd get to go in the elevator. That was always fun. He'd get to push the Up and Out button again! Yah! That was always lots of-

Oh, why did Charlie have to go and knock out his gosh darned tooth? If he wasn't his only heir, Wonka would go and teach him a thing or two about knocking people's teeth out. You can't just go around doing that! Especially not to yourself! That didn't even make any sense! But Wonka sighed, supposing it wasn't really Charlie's fault he ran into a door. It's easy to run into things when you don't realize they're there . . .

"Mr. Wonka?" called Mrs. Bucket from the back door. Wonka looked over and smiled mildly.

"Yah! Heh . . . coming . . ." He got over to the three and let out a breath, smiling brilliantly. There was a hesitation. Finally he let out another little laugh of a breath. "Well then . . . shall we?" He nodded to the elevator across the room and began towards it, closely followed.

When they reached the doors, Wonka tapped the button on the front and they slid open. He waltzed in, as did the others behind him. When inside, the doors closed, and Mr. and Mrs. Bucket were left to inspect all the buttons on the wall.

"Goodness, there's quite a lot in the factory," said Charlie's mother with interest. Wonka reached over to the wall, but suddenly stopped. He bent down a bit.

"Hey Charlie, you wanna push it?" he whispered with an excited little grin. Charlie smiled and reached to the button panel, punching the one that read "Up and Out". Mrs. Bucket looked down at her son.

"Now where does that one take us to?" Charlie grinned and looked through the ceiling as the elevator lurched up.

"Hold on," he said softly, and Wonka giggled.

The Great Glass Lift soared upwards, gaining speed as it went. Mrs. Bucket stumbled back a little towards her husband.

"Certainly is going fast," she laughed mildly. Wonka kept his head up, but glanced at Mrs. Bucket out of the corner of his eye.

"Well it's got to be, or we'd never make it through," he said pointedly.

"Through what?" asked Mrs. Bucket. There was a silence when Wonka didn't respond. Mr. Bucket looked up, then back down at the glowing chocolatier.

"You . . . don't mean . . ." he stopped short.

"Uh huh . . ." Wonka giggled. Charlie's parents gawked at him.

"You can't possibly mean through the ceiling?" Mrs. Bucket asked horrified. The elevator gained speed. Wonka just giggled again, still gazing upwards, his bright smile flashing from the passing light around them. Charlie tugged on his mother's sleeve, and she looked down at him wide eyed, pulling Mr. Bucket down a little with her. She had taken up clutching his arm like it was the only thing holding her above a lake of snapping crocodiles.

"Don't worry, mum," Charlie said softly with a smile, "Mr. Wonka knows what he's doing." Wonka glanced down at Charlie, then back up and smiled. Mrs. Bucket opened her mouth but said nothing, and looked back up, obviously terrified.

The elevator rushed up, up, up, as it neared the ceiling! The air around the vehicle blew by loudly, and as it got to the top and broke through the glass with a CRASSH!, a squeak was heard from Wonka and a petrified gasp from Mrs. Bucket. The ceiling shattered and the elevator broke through, soaring high into the sky where it reached its peaked, stopped for an instant, then began colliding back down towards the earth!

"Charlie, push it!" called the grinning Wonka over the rush of the falling lift. Charlie quickly punched the button again, and the elevator came to an almost immediate halt in the air, right above the factory's chimney. Mrs. Bucket, who'd covered her eyes and buried herself in her husband's chest, peered through her fingertips at their new view. Her eyes were seen to widen through their peering window, and she squeaked another gasp, quickly retreating back into her husband's chest. Wonka released a sigh, still grinning.

"Well, that was fun!" he said delightedly after a moment. There was pause.

"Mr. Wonka?"

"Huh?" Wonka asked, glancing down at the boy. Charlie looked at the button panel, then back to the chocolatier. Wonka glanced over at the panel, then frowned.

"Oh . . . yah . . ." He carefully made his way towards the elevator wall, giving a mild little smile to the others, then letting it fade rather anxiously as he turned back to the controls. He squeezed his fist, producing a rubbery squeak, and singled out a button that read,

Repressed Memories

He turned around and moved back to his personal corner of the elevator as the lift rumbled and began on its way through the sky.

When the three Buckets and Mr. Willy Wonka reached their destination, out in the middle of a vacant snow covered land, the Great Glass Elevator softly began its way to the ground. The place was utterly empty and white, besides the little house they were landing in front of. It was an unusual little square of a home, much like a townhouse, and the sides looked like they'd had larger pieces of house sliced from them; they were dreadfully unfinished.

Through the long ride, Charlie had listened to the discrete squeaking of Mr. Wonka's gloves as he unsuccessfully tried to squeeze water out of his cane. It hadn't stopped yet either. In fact it had become a little more desperate sounding. Charlie glanced up. He paused, then every so gently nudged the man next to him. Wonka swayed from the gentle touch, blinked, then carefully looked down to Charlie. Charlie looked back up with those same big green eyes. Wonka looked back up at the glass in front of him, hesitated, then let out a breath. A deep calming breath that had helped him in other cases such as this. It hadn't failed him yet (or so he liked to believe).

He nodded to nothing in particular, then pressed the button to open the doors once the lift had landed. They slid opened, and Wonka brushed out. The Buckets did the same, and quickly wrapped their coats closer against their bodies as a bitter wind blew against them. The followed Wonka up on the doorstep. The chocolatier somehow managed to shift behind the rest of the group once in front of the door, so by the gold plate on the wall that read the residence, Mrs. Bucket was left to make their presence known.

Knock knock knock.

Silence. Mr. Bucket then noticed the doorbell and pointed it out to his wife.

Buzzzzzzzz . . .

Still silence. The three Buckets exchanged glances.

Suddenly the door eased open, and a tall man in a white coat stood in the doorway. He had a clean-cut pallid beard, dark, intelligent eyes, and a horridly serious posture. He raised his eyebrows to the visitors.

"Do you have an appointment?" came his deep booming voice in the mildly polite way it could come. Mrs. Bucket smiled kindly.

"No, but uhm . . ."

"Hi dad," came a small voice from behind the group. Wonka peeked through the other heads and waved a purple gloved hand next to his cheek. Dr. Wonka peered at the goggled man in the back curiously. His eyes widened just a bit.

"Willy! Come in, come in," he said as he ushered them all inside. They all hung up their coats on the wooden hanger next to the door, as well as Wonka took off his dark glasses and blinked. Dr. Wonka walked over to his son and slapped him strongly on the back. Wonka "oOmph"ed.

"Well aren't you a site for sore eyes?" said Dr. Wonka with what may have been his personal version of a smile. Wonka smiled softly.

"Yah . . ." Dr. Wonka straightened up.

"What can I do for you, son?" Wonka breathed out a timid giggle, opened his mouth, then did it again. He cleared his throat, and nodded to the people standing in the entryway.

"Well um . . . t-these are the Buckets . . . dad . . . You remember Charlie . . .?" he shot the attention towards the small boy. Dr. Wonka squinted at him.

"Ah yes," he said with recognition, "You're the lad that was here with Willy on his last visit." Charlie smiled politely, and Wonka's father looked up at the two adults behind him. "You must be his parents, is that right?" Mrs. Bucket smiled in the same polite manner. Dr. Wonka looked back at his son. "I assume everything turned out well with the apprenticeship offer after all, then?" Wonka grinned nervously, his pearly-white teeth gleaming in the dim light.

"Yah . . . it . . . it did . . ." He tried to straighten himself up in the same serious manner as his father, but only achieved in making himself seem even slimmer and more swaying underneath his elegant red frock coat. "But er, dad, the reason we're here is because Charlie here," he nodded to Charlie, "knocked one of his baby teeth out a little early. . . I mean I guess you can't really knock a tooth out too early or too late, ya really shouldn't knock it out at all! I guess. . ." Wonka giggled nervously. Dr. Wonka raised his eyebrows and looked to Charlie interestedly.

"Did he, now?"

"Y-yup!" Wonka made a spiraling gesture from his mouth. "Popped right out!" Dr. Wonka frowned, then began down the hallway and into his dental office.

"Well follow me, then, all of you . . ." he said as he led them down the teal coloured corridor. Once inside his work space, he gestured for Charlie to sit in the patients' chair as he stretched on some white dental gloves. He pulled a lever and the chair thunked back awkwardly.

"Well then," he said as he switched on a light above Charlie's head, "Let's see the damage . . ." Charlie carefully opened his mouth, allowing Dr. Wonka to peer in. The older man emitted a series of "Hm" "Uhuh" "Ah" to be heard as he inspected the boy's teeth, then stood back up and turned to his parents who were waiting by the doorway.

"It has been knocked rather sharply from its socket," he said as he adjusted his gloves. "No need to worry though. I'll just need to make sure the adult tooth coming in is alright, and clean it out." He nodded, then suddenly raised his eyebrows and pulled off his gloves. "Oh, but before I do, would anyway care for some tea? There's some on the stove right now . . . And you may sit in the living room while you wait, it's much more pleasant in there . . ." He led them back down the hall, and Mrs. Bucket quickly waved to her son before she followed.

Mr. and Mrs. Bucket sat down on a comfortable davenport in the middle of Dr. Wonka's large living room. Wonka, who'd remained silent and very nearly unseen during this amount of time, slowly eased his way into an arm chair that sat to the side of the sofa.

"Oh," Mrs. Bucket said gratefully as Wonka's father returned with a tray of tea, setting it down carefully on the table in front of them. "Thank you so much Dr. Wonka. This is lovely." Dr. Wonka nodded well naturedly.

"I should be done with your son shortly." He then departed back to his work room. When he got in, Charlie was waiting patiently in the same chair, looking around the room. The doctor let out a breath.

"Well then, let's see." He slid his gloves back on and Charlie leaned back in his chair and opened his mouth. Dr. Wonka picked up a little magnifying glass from the tray next to him and peered into the boy's mouth. His eye looked five times bigger through the glass. "Quite a jam, wasn't it?" Charlie made a little noise in reply. Dr. Wonka moved away from his mouth and got out a pad and pen as he started writing things down. "And eh, how may I ask did this occur?"

Charlie smiled sheepishly and looked down. "I forgot to look where I was going and ran into something." Dr. Wonka made a face.

"A sharp something, or a heavy something . . ."

"A door," Charlie confirmed. "It swung open in front of me."

"Ahh . . ." Dr. Wonka continued to scribble, then set down his pen. "And did you find the tooth?" Charlie reached into his pocket, searched about for a moment, then pulled out a little tissue and handed it to the doctor. The man unfolded it and took out the baby tooth. He picked up his glasses and set them on his nose, squinting at the little molar. "Well it didn't chip or break, it came out wholly, which means it was close time to coming out anyway. Shouldn't make too much of a difference in the way the next tooth will come in."

Dr. Wonka wrote something else in his book, and then opened a drawer from the table next to him. He closed it and opened another under it, pulling out a white little plastic case. He wrapped the tooth back up in the tissue and put it in the little box, then handed it back to Charlie who thanked him and pocketed it. The older man went back to the table and picked up a small tube.

"Now, I'm going to clean it out," he said as he flicked a switch and the tube began to buzz, "with a little water and sanitizer . . ." He turned a knob and the tube buzzed louder. Charlie squirmed slightly. Dr. Wonka noticed and chuckled.

"Now hold still, lad," he said as he came towards the boy's mouth. "This won't hurt a bit . . ."

Dr. Wonka's living room was quite roomy for such a seemingly small, not to mention oddly built, little home. The walls were vertically striped with a couple simple colours, and there was a desk in the left hand corner on the other side of the room. Next to the desk, directly across from them was a blazing fireplace. Its mantle was a beautiful old antique type, and there was an elegant rug that spread from the tip of the fireplace to the tip of the settee.

Wonka looked around timidly. Mrs. Bucket scooted the tea tray in front of them across the table towards Wonka.

"Mr. Wonka?" she offered. He looked at her, then to the tea. He mildly shook his hand in front of it, then went back to looking around the long since seen room. Mrs. Bucket paused. "Are you alright?" she asked suddenly. Wonka's heart gave a little jump. He quickly looked at her, and she looked back curiously. After a hesitation, the chocolatier carefully nodded. She leaned back. "It's only you just seemed rather . . ." she rolled her eyes and swatted her hand in the air with a little smile.

"Never mind." She turned to her husband. "Tea dear?" Mr. Bucket took a cup. The three were silent for a moment as they sipped on the steaming drink. Mrs. Bucket sighed and leaned back. "This really is kind of your father to see us on such short notice, Mr. Wonka." Wonka didn't say anything, but answered with a lopsided little nod. "Now he says Charlie was with you the last time you came to visit, is that right?" Wonka frowned and looked down. Oh, that was right. He'd forgotten Charlie was there . . . he must have left the room shortly after the entered . . .

"That must be what he was talking about during our move," she said to her husband with gentle realization. Wonka carefully looked up. "He explained the whole lot when we were moving into the factory a while ago, but I must say, it was rather difficult to understand." She chuckled and sipped her tea. Wonka put on a mildly painful smile and leaned back in the chair, releasing a breath. The three were silent for a moment again, the couple on the sofa taking in the setting around them.

"Certainly is a lovely home," Mr. Bucket commented as he sipped his tea. Mrs. Bucket looked over to Wonka with interest.

"Yes, why such an odd location, Mr. Wonka?" Wonka glanced up.

"Dad just likes his privacy I guess . . ." he replied in a voice that was barely audible. He looked back down at the floor. There was a pause.

"Hhm," Mrs. Bucket sighed quietly in response, and sipped her tea. "Mustn't get much business out here then, I imagine."

"Though people have probably come to realize that the Doctor Wonka would be related to Willy Wonka," Mr. Bucket said, nodding towards the man in the armchair. Bucket grinned and poured herself some more tea.

"Yes, that would make up for his location," she laughed. Wonka looked up, slightly confused.

"I assume that would get him a little publicity, being family related to such a celebrity. He must be very proud to be the father of the infamous Willy Wonka." She smiled and sipped her tea. There was a hesitation in the air.

"Really." asked Wonka, fairly unsure of what she meant. Mrs. Bucket gave him a quizzical look.

"Well of course, Mr. Wonka. Why wouldn't he?"

"Dad hates candy," he said blankly. But Mrs. Bucket just waved her hand in the air.

"Well he's a dentist, I wouldn't be surprised," she laughed. "The contrary occupations are rather interesting . . . but that doesn't mean he's not proud of you. You being such a success, I can't see how he wouldn't be." She sipped her tea again, and Wonka gazed at the floor thoughtfully. He shifted in his chair. Mrs. Bucket paused.

"Wouldn't you think so?" Wonka looked back up at her and, to her surprise, shook his head. She looked at him inquiringly. Wonka's eyes widened.

"Dad hates candy. He always has. I wasn't supposed to have any when I was a kid, and if it were up to him, I still wouldn't," he said with one breath. His emotions were certainly difficult to read. Mrs. Bucket set down her tea.

"Well, just because he disagrees with your . . . beliefs, doesn't mean he's not proud of you. I know that if my Charlie were to grow up to be a famous trash collector, but were still a moral person and had a good life, I'd certainly be proud of him." Mr. Bucket nodded next to his wife and put his arm around her. Wonka gazed downward.

"You and dad are pretty different," he said softly, more to himself than the other people in the room. Mrs. Bucket began to gently stir her tea.

"Mr. Wonka, I'm sure he's not as different as you seem to think. Occupation or not, he's still your family." He glanced up at her, but quickly back down, and then the chocolatier's gaze remained quietly to the floor. Mrs. Bucket paused, then put a sugar cube into her tea, stirring it once again. She turned to her husband with a little smile.

"Dear, how do you suppose out parents are doing home alone?" she asked him pleasantly, deciding a change in subject may be in order.

". . . and the teeth in the back demand extra attention as well. . ." Dr. Wonka flipped the magnifying glass of the contraption on his head up and began recording things down into his notebook. There was a moment of silence as he did this. Finally he spoke up again.

"So how is everything going with the factory, young man? I assume everything with your family's relocation has gone smoothly?" He was still writing as he talked, and Charlie was grateful for this. There was something very intimidating about Willy Wonka's father when he gave you his direct attention. Charlie rubbed his chin from it's time of being craned open.

"It did. Our house is small, so it wasn't hard to move . . ." Oops. Should he have said it quite like that? But to his gentle surprise Dr. Wonka didn't seem quite confused at all. He nodded as he wrote.

"Ah yes, the smaller the easier to move, I do suppose . . ." he kept writing. He was probably only paying half attention, and Charlie relaxed.

"And . . ." he continued to jot down notes, ". . . how is your new apprenticeship?" Charlie grinned.

"It's great. It's really interesting," he said happily. Dr. Wonka nodded through his notes again.

"Rather young to be taking up such a responsibility as a factory though. It must be rather difficult with your schooling and then the factory work during any other time." Charlie smiled.

". . . Well Mr. Wonka's factory is a bit . . . different than others might be." The older man frowned curiously, but didn't say anything besides, "Hm. . ." Charlie was quiet as the man continued to scribble chicken scratch down on paper.

"And how is my son lately? When the two of you are working at the factory. . ." More chicken scratch.

"Mr. Wonka?" Charlie beamed. "Oh he's great, sir. He's a lot of fun . . ." Perhaps that was a rather awkward way to say that too. Dr. Wonka made a face, and Charlie continued on a straighter scale. "He's . . . really good at what he does." The dentist nodded.

"Yes . . ." he said, then knit his brows. "I didn't approve much of Willy's choice of career. But his business has flourished over the years so well, I really am quite impressed." His tone hadn't changed from the serious, booming one it always retained. But Charlie figured this was as close to a kind tenor as it got. He smiled.

"I'm sure he'd be happy to hear that," he said, glancing at the far wall of newspaper clippings. Dr. Wonka sighed mildly.

"I'm afraid it's difficult to tell with these kinds of things . . . we never did understand each other very well . . ." He was still writing. Charlie paused.

"Well I'm sure he'd understand if you two talked a bit more. It's . . . probably been a while." Charlie saw Dr. Wonka's writing hand falter for a moment. His gaze stayed on the paper.

"Quite . . ." he said quietly. Then he drew in a breath, regaining his proper composure. "But he hasn't changed a bit. Still as stubborn as he's ever been. I can see it in his eyes." Charlie smiled. Dr. Wonka drew up his eyebrows curiously. "Bit on the peculiar side, though . . ." he murmured half attentively as he continued to record in his book. Charlie's eyes widened a bit, and he tried hard not to smile this time. There was another silence as Dr. Wonka finished up his notes, and suddenly Charlie thought of something.

" . . . Dr. Wonka?" he began timidly.

"Hm?" Charlie paused.

"When is Mr. Wonka's birthday?" Dr. Wonka stopped in his writings for a moment, furrowed his brow, then looked up at the ceiling in thought.

"May . . . twenty-fifth, I do believe," he said after a moment and went back to his writing. "Why not ask him, I'd sure he'd have told you." Charlie hesitated.

"I . . . hadn't really thought of it till now," he said. The dentist nodded, wrote one more thing down on the paper, and set down his pen with a click.

"Well, we're all done here," he said as he stood up, unlatching the odd magnifying contraption from his head and setting it on the table. Charlie decided it must be one of his own designs. "Nothing major with your tooth, lad; shouldn't worry. Though, if it's possible, I'd like to see you in a few months to make sure everything goes accordingly." He handed Charlie a little piece of paper for an appointment date. Charlie took it and slid out of the chair. "Let's go meet the others then . . ." Dr. Wonka led Charlie down the hallway and into the living room. When they got there, Mr. and Mrs. Bucket set down their tea cups, and Charlie trotted over to them. Dr. Wonka adjusted his rubber gloves. "Your boy here is fine, madam. I've arranged another appointment in a bit to check everything up?"

"That'd be fine sir, thank you," she said with a smile as she put her arms over her son's shoulders. In the corner Wonka carefully stood up, and Dr. Wonka glanced over.

"Oh, now before you all leave, might I have a look at your teeth, Willy?" Wonka froze.

"Mine?"

"Just a quick one. I'd like to see how you're doing. I never did get the chance the last time you were here." He turned to the Buckets. "You all can come along, it won't take but a moment." Wonka did a minor stutter with his mouth, but his father gestured for him to follow, so he did.

Back inside the dental office, Wonka cautiously made his way to the chair in the middle of the room and eased his way down. Dr. Wonka walked over and sat in his own chair, picking up a little mirror and a magnifying glass.

"Alright then, let's see here. . ." Wonka nervously worked his jaw for a moment, then ever so slowly eased it open. The older man leaned in and began inspecting, releasing his series of usual, "Hm" and "Ah" and "Huh . . ." He reached over and got out a larger magnifying glass. His iris filled the entire thing. Wonka sat still with his mouth open. Suddenly the doctor leaned a little to the side to look in the left of his son's mouth.

"Willy, have you . . ." He leaned to look in the other side. ". . . have you still been wearing your retainer at night . . .?" He leaned back up, but Wonka stayed lying down in the patient chair.

"Yes, sir," he answered quietly. Dr. Wonka flipped the magnifying glass back down to look in Wonka's mouth again.

"And it still fits . . .?"

"I've had my orthodontist shape it . . ." Willy answered meekly. Charlie, in the doorway, tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. It was interesting that after all the time he hadn't seen his father, Wonka had still listened to what he'd told him about his teeth. Maybe that's why they'd stayed so lovely, even whilst running a candy factory.

"Oh, so you do have been checking up regularly then?" Dr. Wonka asked the chocolatier as he continued to look in his mouth.

"Uh huh . . ." came Wonka's open-mouthed reply.

"Huh . . ." There were a few more moments of this, then Dr. Wonka sighed and took down his magnifying glass, setting it on his tool tray. "Well, you're doing excellent, Willy. Nothing I can say besides that." He stood up, and Wonka carefully slid out of the chair. Dr. Wonka removed his gloves, then looked down sternly at his son, putting a finger in the air. "Though you still need to floss." Wonka smiled sheepishly and looked down as he began adjusting the corners of his own purple rubber gloves. Dr. Wonka turned back around to the Buckets, and Mr. Bucket walked up to him and shook his hand.

"Thank you so much, Dr. Wonka. How much do I owe you?"

"No charge."

"Oh, but sir-" The older man shook his hand in the air.

"No no, please; any friend of Willy's needn't 'pay' for something as simple as a tooth check up." The Buckets thanked him again and he led them down the corridor to the front door, where they all got their belongings and started out the door.

"I'll be seeing you in a few months then, Charlie," he said as the boy walked out. Charlie nodded and gave a little wave.

"Thank you Dr. Wonka!" Dr. Wonka turned back to his son by the doorway who was taking up his coat and hat.

"You've got yourself quite an heir there, Willy. He's a good lad," he said with a nod. Wonka smiled and looked out the door.

"Yah . . . he is." There was a pause. Dr. Wonka straightened up in his usual manner and faced Willy.

"Well, thank you for coming then." Wonka began to bring his hand up for the expected handshake, but was a bit staggered aback when his father pulled him into a soft hug. He took in a surprised breath.

"It was good to see you again, son," said Dr. Wonka softly. The wide eyed Willy Wonka let out a breath, cautiously putting his arms around his father's back and laying his fingers around the ruffle at the top of his clean, white dentist coat

"You too, dad," he whispered, as he gently rested his chin on his father's shoulder. The two didn't linger longer than needed, and when they let go, Willy Wonka set his hat on his head and tapped the rim to his father with a little smile, then walked out the door. His father waved and carefully closed the entrance to his oddly placed little home as a cool gust of wind blew by. Wonka caught up with the Buckets just as they were entering the Elevator. He caught his breath and turned towards Charlie with a grin.

"How's your tooth, Charlie?" Charlie smiled.

"It's good, Mr. Wonka. It's feeling better." He rubbed his chin softly. Wonka gave another brilliant grin as he punched the button for Dr. Wonka's house again and the elevator started into the sky.

"Oh, good," he said with a sigh, still smiling. Charlie smiled too, as did the other Buckets in the elevator, though Mrs. Bucket still looked a bit uneasy about their form of transportation. The elevator vibrated up into the beautiful blue, and as Wonka pushed another button, it began its way through the sky and back to the factory. As it rumbled through the air, Charlie rubbed his chin again.

"I don't think I really like running into things," he said with a smile. Wonka laughed and looked down at his heir.

"Well gosh, Charlie," he giggled, "I don't much like it either."

Author's Notes: And it didn't take long at all to put up this chapter, now did it?: pulls off top hat and takes a big sweeping bow:

The button to Dr. Wonka's house: Repressed Memories, that sounded like the exact button to me, don't you think? It was slightly noted of in the fourth chapter, in the very beginning, if you didn't notice . . . A lot of the times if I say something that seems like it has a few blanks, they usually come back later in the story, so keep that in mind.

He paused, then every so gently nudged the man next to him: Kay, it's probably just me, but I really really looooooved this part! Just because it's really the first time when Charlie and Wonka's friendship is seen, ya know? Just like it's the beginning of their kind of closeness.

Wonka's birthday: (If I had clues like I did with Charlie's, I'd have used them.) Just hang in there with me, everyone. It's all part of God's plan . . . my plan . . . you know. The mystical goddess of newbie writer's plan.

"Well, we're all done here," he said as he stood up, unlatching the odd magnifying contraption from his head and setting it on the table. Charlie decided it must be one of his own designs: I always thought of Doctor Wonka to be the kind that uses these odd tools that he's created himself, kind of like Ichabod Crane in Sleepy Hollow. You know that bizarre gadget he wears when he's inspecting the bodies that has the magnifying glasses? Hahahah. . .Yah, I couldn't get the image out of my head of Wonka's dad using that thing when he's looking at teeth. It just seemed to fit his freaky seriousness when it came to things like brushing after meals so well.

". . . have you still been wearing your retainer at night . . .?": I always thought this would explain the minor lisp. . . heheheheh. . .

Chapter 6 Preview: I'm even actually not sure yet. I know we'll get some more aftermath, and just a little more insight on how everything works with the Buckets' new location. But we'll see where it goes from there. After all, the best kind of prize is a SUR-prize! Hahahaha!