I've been experiencing some extreme setbacks with the sequel to another fic (including a whole chapter becoming corrupted ). So, to ease this burnt out feeling, I started writing this. I really, really, really loved the movie, 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory', especially the character Willy Wonka. Johnny Depp just brought a whole new dimension to the character. As opposed to Gene Wilder's textbook eccentricity (don't get me wrong, his performance was the only reason I bought the Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory DVD) it almost seemed like Mr. Depp actually locked himself up in a factory for fifteen years and was experiencing the appropriate backlash. Oh well, enough rambling. Enjoy

This chapter was actually rewritten a bit since I originally posted it

Charlie sighed deeply, taking in some of the chocolate perfumed air. He loved Saturdays. Even though summer was in full swing and weekends had been rendered obsolete, the habit was hard to break. And Saturdays held a little more for Charlie than an excuse for laziness. It was Saturdays when he and Mr. Wonka would brainstorm new ideas to try that week and Saturdays alone. So you can imagine the young chocolatier in training was liable to burst from all the ideas dancing around in his head. Mr. Wonka liked it that way. He had always said that, "Trying an idea two seconds after conception was like trying to give birth before you're due." Charlie didn't really understand that analogy (truth be told, neither did Mr. Wonka), but Mrs. Bucket assured him that both where very bad ideas.

Charlie grabbed the clothes his mother had laid out for him and hurriedly got ready to leave. Despite a few minor collisions with the floor while both putting on pants and brushing his teeth he was ready to leave rather quickly. After narrowly missing his father on the stairs and giving each of his, sleeping, grandparents a kiss his mother gave him the usual debriefing.

"So dear," she smiled, "make sure you're on time for dinner tonight. Saturday or not, I won't have a son of mine waltzing in whenever he pleases."

As if on cue, the front door burst open with such force, Charlie was amazed it was still on its hinges. Mr. Wonka peaked his head in the door with an exuberant expression and playful smile, "You ready, Charlie?"

Mrs. Bucket smiled slightly and rolled her eyes. "Did you hear that, Willy?" Mrs. Bucket asked, looking up from the potatoes she was chopping.

Willy removed his coat and, still smiling broadly in anticipation for the day ahead, asked, "Hear what?"

"I want you two back on time tonight." She answered waggling her knife absent mindedly in his direction, agitating the man slightly. "I know Saturday is a very important business day, but-"

"Oh, of course, Mrs. Bucket!" Willy interrupted, "I wouldn't miss your dinner for the world!" He paused, toothy grin intact, and nudged Charlie a bit roughly.

"Oh, of course, me too!" he said enthusiastically while rubbing his shoulder where Mr. Wonka had elbowed him.

Mrs. Bucket arched her brow and went back to chopping, "Okay then, darling, I'll have to take your word for it." She sighed, silently musing about how long she'd have to stay up waiting for them tonight. "Come here, dear." She continued, giving Charlie a kiss on the cheek. Almost instantly, Mr. Wonka's grin vanished and he looked down at the floor nervously. Mrs. Bucket felt a sudden pang of guilt and motioned for the distressed man to come nearer, "You too, Willy." She said kindly, repeating the sign of affection she had given Charlie. Mr. Wonka broke out a genuine grin and his pale face reddened slightly.

Charlie, who was already outside, poked his head in the door. "Come on, Mr. Wonka!" he said impatiently, obviously very eager to share some of his ideas with Willy.

This seemed to knock Willy out of his blissful trance. He nodded farewell to the inhabitants of the cabin and slipped out without making a sound.

"What was that about?" A skeptical Mr. Bucket asked from the top of the stairs.

Mrs. Bucket raised her eyebrows in confusion before stifling a giggle at her husbands absurd assumption, "Don't be ridiculous, darling! Poor thing doesn't have a mother to speak of. I'm surprised you don't know that, considering how much Charlie talks about him.

"Don't worry about my Wonka knowledge, I could write a small history of the man…" Mr. Bucket sighed while descending the staircase.

"Oh, come on now. He's just excited about his new friend, is all. Willy's more like a brother to him anyways. They have each other to pal around with. I mean, honestly, how useful are we in that department? You go to work and I cook all day. We should be glad our Charlie's got something to do and really enjoys doing it.."

Mr. Bucket nodded reluctantly before adding, "I don't mind him being a brother to Charlie; I just don't want him to be a father to him…"

Mrs. Bucket abandoned her potatoes and walked over to her husband, joining him on the footstool where he was perched. "Sweetie, Charlie's mad about you, but he's growing up. You're can't tell me you didn't ignore your own parents when you reached his age."

"She's right you know." Grandpa Joe whispered to the man across from him.

"Ah, what do you know…!" Grandpa George hissed back.

"I know you're right, dear." Mr. Bucket submitted (at this point Grandpa Joe stuck his tongue out a scowling Grandpa George).

"Good." Mrs. Bucket smirked, giving Mr. Bucket a kiss of his own. "Now scurry along you'll be late!" She exclaimed rising quickly from her seat.

"Yes, ma'am." He bowed low, making his wife giggle.

"See you tonight then?" she asked after going back to the kitchen.

"Of course, dear." He called from the doorway before heading out to the nearest elevator shaft.

"I do hope he's back for dinner on time, at the very least." The woman sighed while fetching some celery from this fridge.

"Um, Mr. Wonka, where are we going?" Charlie Bucket asked, breathlessly trying to keep up with the man's long strides. Indeed, Charlie had reason to be confused. They had passed the inventing room, where they usually held their brainstorming meetings, and now were heading down a dimly lit corridor Charlie didn't recall ever seeing before. The unfamiliarity left him with an unwelcome sense of impending doom.

Mr. Wonka had been walking very quickly, out of both anticipation to get where they were headed and to conceal his revealing grin from the boy behind him. "I just thought a nice change of scene would get the creative juices flowing." He said, finishing with an unsuccessfully hidden giggle.

Charlie just followed uneasily, envying Mr. Wonka's bright outlook within such a dank place. Granted, Mr. Wonka probably knew where they were headed, but still…

It was times like these that highlighted their differences so much, and Charlie hated it. He had idolized Willy Wonka ever since his first bite of Wonka chocolate. His every mannerism was another testament to his greatness and, no matter how hard he tried, Charlie couldn't imitate, let alone be, the flamboyant candy man. And his desperate need for approval from the generally cold, Mr. Wonka, wasn't helping.

Suddenly, Mr. Wonka stopped so abruptly that the, lost in thought, Charlie ran right into him, knocking him out of his rigid position. As Mr. Wonka leaned down to retrieve his hat, which had fallen off in the collision, Charlie observed the door which they had stopped in front of. He cocked his head a bit at the strangeness of this entire situation, he had seen and worked in the majority of the factory's many rooms, but this door seemed to have just popped out of thin air.

After dusting imaginary dirt of his plum overcoat, Mr. Wonka smiled, placed his hand on the knob, and turned to Charlie.

"You ready?" he asked, his excitement having reached its pinnacle.

Charlie, perplexed, excited and almost fearful at what this special room may contain, breathed a barely audible, "Yes."

With that, Willy turned the knob and opened the door. For a moment, neither did anything and Charlie's face was frozen with the look of utter disbelief, which was then replaced by unspeakable joy.

The room before him was very special indeed. Long clear columns with little slots near the bottom were filled to the brim with Fudgemellow Delights, seemingly round square candies, a special type of gumdrop that had the distinct taste of buttered toast, and more, all of which were Charlie's favorites. One wall was lined with bookshelves, each carrying, what Charlie would discover shortly, empty journals, all ready for him to fill with his ideas. Along another wall was a laboratory that was just the right size for Charlie to move about independently. Large easy chairs, specially designed for thinking, were scattered around next to large drawing boards. The thing that really made the young chocolatier-in-training smile was the plaque that hung on the wall right next to him.

'Charlie's Imagination Room'

After a few minutes of stunned silence on Charlie's part, Willy Wonka begin to fidget with his cane, smile fading to a nervous frown. He waited thirty seconds more before blurting out, "Do you like-" only to be cut off by Charlie nearly knocking him over with an enthusiastic hug. Willy jumped at the unexpected physical contact but slowly relaxed into the awkward situation patting Charlie's back a bit, frightened smile still a fixture on his gaunt face. The Oompa Loompa's looked up from their work in the under construction elevator shaft and silently watched the semi-sweet scene.

Charlie finally loosened his grip on the, still nervous, Wonka. A turned his attention back to the beautiful room. "It's perfect Mr. Wonka! I've always wanted a place to call my own. Thank you so much!"

"Oh I knew you'd love it!" the candy maker squealed with delight, "How could you not? See that glass the columns made of? Well it's not really glass, it's molten, well, was molten sugar I had the Oompa Loompa's fashion into cylinders. Of course, to do so, I had to invent a new sugar-glass blowing pipe that five or six could use at a time. For, you see, dear boy, an Oompa Loompa's lungs are very tiny, about a third the size of a human pair. Yes, the most an individual Oompa Loompa can make out of sugar is an ashtray which, after being used, isn't fun to lick at all. But those columns are perfectly scrumptious if you ever wanted to give them a taste. Of course, I wouldn't lick them too often. The last thing we want is a collapse." He finished his mile a minute speech with a high pitched giggle. Charlie hadn't really been listening. Not because he didn't find Oompa Loompian sugar blowing interesting, but because an ultimate feeling of place had swept over him.

Charlie was, through and through, a normal boy, no matter what his mother an father said (Mr. Wonka might object to that statement too, but, considering the children he had been exposed to, not much stock should be put in his judgment.) He wasn't the first boy picked in gym class, neither was he the last. He had always figured that, had he any siblings, he would be the middle one. Not that he minded all this. A child that had been in Charlie's position did not take things for granted. And being ignored was far better than being picked on. But now, having something all his own, it made him special and important somehow, it was a fantastic feeling.

Charlie ventured deeper into the room that could now be referred to as his 'office' (in this factory, the word 'office' loosely meant 'playground'. After all, Willy had a jungle gym in his.) Mr. Wonka attempted to follow his apprentice into the recesses of the room, but found he was unable to budge from his spot. He stubbornly pressed onward until he felt a small tugging on his pant leg.

"Yes?" he asked, turning around to see an Oompa Loompa behind him.

"It's almost September, sir." He replied mechanically.

Wonka furrowed his brow in confusion, "I am perfectly able to keep track of the months myself, thank you very much." He responded indigently, offended at the implication he couldn't.

"No, sir, I mean Charlie will be attending school again shortly."

"Oh...yes, I hadn't really thought about that..." He said softly, casting occasional fleeting glances in Charlies direction. He didn't realize summer was almost over. He hadn't even realized the season had begun until he saw Charlie bouncing off the walls in the gelatin room singing a song by some girl named Alice Cooper and went to ask his parents what it was about. Shortly after he went to join in on Charlie's merrymaking, but that all seemed so long ago. He had grown so used to Charlie's company; he didn't know how he was going to pass six hours without him. Of course, the only emotion that showed on his face was an empty grin.

"Well, we should probably get him some new duds then. Those things he has now are so...plain. Oh, I know!" He shouted with boyish delight, "Call up the Oompa Loompa who makes my clothes...what's his name?"

"Rebecca, sir."

"Oh, right, well call him up and get him to take Charlie's measurements. A new coat would be just perfect for the winter months!" He pivoted on his heels until he faced Charlie (who was at the moment doodling in one of the journals). "What do you think would be a better color on him, mauve or goldenrod?"

"I'll give her the message right away, sir." The Oompa Loompa said tiredly before disappearing into one of the trap doors Willy had designed to make the Oompa Loompa's travel throughout the factory more efficiant. Willy sighed, Charlie seemed perfectly content where he was, and the Oompa Loompa's were all busy at work.

I'm sure no one would mind if I slipped out for a while...Willy thought to himself.

Taking every precaution not to be seen by Charlie (who would have certainly wanted to accompany him), he crept out of the room and into the nearest lift entrance. After clicking the button labeled 'Top' he was off, whizzing through the air to his destination.

Now, considering the names some of the elevator buttons were adorned with. 'Top' was extremely to the point. There weren't any explosive little red candies that would make you blow the top of your head off, nor were there any Toffee of Paradise bars. It was simply the top, and was where William Wonka would go to think.

With a soft ding, the glass elevator's doors slid open and Willy stepped out into a very small room. With glass walls it provided him with a window to the outside world. He couldn't stand being among them, but from high above, in the tallest tower of his factory, the city below look…quaint. Like nothing bad every happened. It was a nice break from the constant fear and worry.

Ever since Charlie and his family had moved into the factory, Willy had so much more to worry about than himself, the Oompa Loompa's, and what candy was selling well. Now he had to make sure Charlie was happy, knowing first hand what bad moods did to candy. To do this he had to make sure Charlie's family was happy. His own problems had been swept under the rug of his subconscious, left to manifest into bigger and bigger dilemmas. This wasn't a problem before, because in the end he was the only one that needed to be taken care of. Now there was Charlie…

Summer had been easy enough; he'd had control over what happened and didn't happen to Charlie as long as he was in the factory, which he didn't leave often. But now…not only would he be lonely without the boy, he'd be leaving him alone with the outside world and, worst of all, other children.

I hope you enjoyed it. I have many projects I'm in the middle of currently (damn procrastination…) but I do really like my idea for this story. I hate to milk my readers for reviews, but in all honesty, it will put more pressure on me to churn out chapters if I know people are reading.