Oh dearie me, I don't think I did a good job with this chapter at all. I really hope you guys don't agree but I sincerely doubt any of you will.
Anywho, because of an intelligent suggestion from Telanu I've decided to thank reviewers as a group instead of individually (I will answer review questions at the end though). So, thanks reviewers! You guys are keepin' this story alive!
"Willy?" Mrs. Bucket asked for the hundredth time that night. "Willy, dear?" She continued tiredly, trying desperately to keep her eyes open. It had been ten o'clock when an entourage of somber Oompa Loompa's had carried their boss in, much to Mr. and Mrs. Bucket's surprise. Now it was midnight and they hadn't gotten any further with the man.
"Do you think he's just sleeping?" Mr. Bucket asked pathetically in a last ditch effort to get some sleep himself.
Mrs. Bucket smirked a bit, "I doubt it, darling. Something tells me he wouldn't have gotten that taking a nap." She said glancing at a rather unpleasant looking lump on the side of the chocolatier's head before returning her attention to her yawning husband. "But really darling, you have work tomorrow. I can handle this by myself." Her husband cast her a skeptical look, "Really, I can."
"I know you can, but I…I want to help you. You can't do everything by yourself, you know." He finished, sitting down next to his wife who sighed deeply.
"It's funny…" she laughed, "I thought moving in here would make things easier. I suppose we'll never get away from our troubles, even in Utopia." She glanced thoughtfully out the window, turning back sharply when she heard Mr. Bucket stifle a laugh of his own. "What?" She cried defensively, "What's got you so hysterical?"
"Nothing!" He cried shielding himself with his hands before relenting, "That was just very philosophical of you."
"Well," she said with narrowed eyes, "us housewives tend to get that way in the wee hours of the morning."
"Really?" Mr. Bucket asked jokingly.
"Really." Mrs. Bucket replied in the same manner.
"Speaking of the wee hours of the morning, we're going to need to get him up and out of here before Charlie catches any wind of this." Mr. Bucket said wistfully, "I can't imagine the commotion he would've caused if he had been up when the Oompa Loompa's brought him in here."
"Oh dear, you're right." Mrs. Bucket said quickly, putting her hand over her mouth, "I hadn't thought about that."
"Well, I suppose all that's left to do is wait for him to wake up and hope it's soon." Her husband said, defeated.
Mrs. Bucket sighed in response, "I suppose I'll put the kettle on. I think we could all use a good cup of tea." She was about to rise when she felt a warm hand on her arm.
"Don't go just yet!" Mr. Bucket cried, "I-I mean, just sit here a while longer. This is the first time we've been alone for…I can't even remember."
Mrs. Bucket's eyes wandered from the unconscious man in front of them, to the four elderly folk, nestled up peacefully in the folds of their kings sized bed, to the partially exposed loft bedroom above her before letting out a small smile, "I suppose you're right."
The husband and the wife edged closer and closer together before sharing an intimate kiss, their first one in quite a while. Little did they know, someone else was sharing the experience.
Mrs. Bucket opened her eyes slightly, only to find Willy Wonka staring at her and her husband with wide eyes. "Oh my, Willy!" she exclaimed, pulling away from her confused husband quickly, "You're awake!" she was blushing a deep scarlet, but her husband was white as a sheet.
"You were just going to bed, weren't you darling." Mrs. Bucket asked with a forced smile.
Mr. Bucket cleared his throat loudly, "Uh, bed, right. Goodnight, Willy!" He said while rushing into the next room, knocking into several pieces of furniture on the way. Mrs. Bucket smiled to herself at his clumsiness, despite the embarrassing situation.
Willy's gaping expression was still firmly planted on his face when Mrs. Bucket returned her attention towards him. He couldn't help it. He hadn't ever imagined that Charlie's Mom and Dad…kissed. Not to mention he had no recollection of falling asleep here, or any recollection of falling asleep at all.
Mrs. Bucket laughed nervously, wishing Willy would stop looking so horrified, "Uh, sorry Willy, we'd forgotten you were there and…" She paused, trying to gauge how much Willy understood about what he'd witnessed, "Well…Mr. Bucket and I are married, and married people…" Willy's mouth just opened and closed wordlessly, "You know what?" Mrs. Bucket cried, "I bet you'd like some tea!" She didn't wait for an answer before jumping up and rushing to the stove.
Willy, trying to comprehend what had just happened, reached up to scratch his head only to feel a searing pain coarse through his skull.
"Aaii!" He yelped, "Something bit me!"
"Oh dear, oh dear…" Mrs. Bucket whispered, seemingly to compensate for Willy's yelling, "Are you all right, Willy? Did you hurt yourself?"
"No, I think something's on my head and-" he continued, talking as quickly, nervously and loudly as ever, before Mrs. Bucket shushed him.
"Do try to keep your voice down, dear. Charlie and his grandparents are sleeping." She chided, "And nothing's on your head. You just have a bump." Willy nodded slowly, but kept a wary eye facing upwards.
Mrs. Bucket left her kettle to heat and walked over to Willy, who seemed to be as confused as he was in pain, "What happened to you, Willy? What could've possibly caused you to fall like you did"
Willy's eyes widened, he certainly didn't remember falling down. He furrowed his brow and tried to remember what he had been doing. Riding in the glass elevator kept coming to mind, but if that were true, how would he be here. He remembered leaving.
"Uh, how'd I get here?" he asked matter-of-factly.
"Oh, silly me, I forgot you were unconscious." The woman laughed to herself.
"…Unconscious?" Willy repeated to himself under his breath.
"A few Oompa Loompa's found you up in that little room at the top of the smoke stack. I suppose they thought we would be the one's to help you and they brought you here about two and a half hours ago."
Willy gulped. The memory of yesterday's episode had returned to him the moment Mrs. Bucket mentioned his tower hideaway. So, like so many other times, he masked his embarrassment and fear with a strained smile and nervous giggle. "Well, that is something, ain't it?"
"Yes, I suppose it is…" Mrs. Bucket said cautiously, sensing something wasn't quite right. "Do you remember falling, then?"
"You know, it's the darnedest thing! I can't remember a goshdarn thing after stepping out of that elevator. I guess I must've slipped or sumthin'." He laughed forcibly.
"Really?" Mrs. Bucket knew he was lying now. She didn't know why or how she was so sure, but something inside her was telling her there was more to the story than that. She just couldn't figure out how to ask what was really going on.
The two sat in silence for a bit. Willy was still grinning absently but seemed to be looking at everything but Mrs. Bucket, who was debating internally about her next course of action. At last, she opened her mouth to speak but a sharp whistle interrupted her.
"Oh dear, that's the water. I'd forgotten about it." Mrs. Bucket said quickly, swallowing her words. She rushed over to the kettle and took it off the flame, hoping the noise hadn't awoken anyone. Taking two mugs from the shelves, she filled each with the boiling water and plopped in two chamomile tea bags (she knew Mr. Wonka's preferred chocolate tea, but she had yet to see chamomile fail when it came to making someone feel better). But, when she turned around, she found Willy already up off the couch clutching his cane and top hat.
"Willy?" she asked, suspicious of the man's eagerness to leave, "Won't you stay and have a cup of tea with me before you go?"
Willy gulped, "Well, I'd love to Mrs. Bucket. But, all this hubbub about slipping on a wet floor has really got me tired." He proceeded to yawn quite loudly and falsely, "Although I'd love to take a rain check on that tea, not that it ever rains here. Not that I couldn't make it rain, but just think about my beautiful meadows turning into puddles of green slop. It'd be a nightmare." He finished contently; quite proud of his elaborate explanation that ironically did little explaining whatsoever.
Mrs. Bucket nodded, knowing when to stop persisting.
Mr. Wonka smiled again and nodded in return. He then turned sharply on his heels to face the doorway, placed his top hat on his head with and audible wince and headed out the door, leaving a perplexed Mrs. Bucket alone in the little house with a cup of tea in each hand. She was about to join her husband, when Willy popped back in the door with a question he had almost forgotten to ask.
"Oh, Mrs. Bucket, before I forget again, what would Charlie's favorite color be? It's frightfully important that I find out."
Mrs. Bucket, who had been so startled by the man's sudden return, faltered a moment before answering, "He's always been fond of the color green, but why is it so important that you know?"
Willy smiled with excitement (Mrs. Bucket was happy to see that it was genuine excitement too), "You'll see next Monday. I'm so glad I remembered to ask now or it would have simply never been ready on time."
Mrs. Bucket opened her mouth to ask another question, but Mr. Wonka was out the door with a quickness she didn't think someone who had recently suffered head trauma could muster. So she was left to silently wonder what had really happened to Willy in that little room, why he'd been so secretive about it and what could Mr. Wonka possibly be planning for next Monday, Charlie's first day of school.
Pisces1: Yeah, the Rebecca thing was intended. Not that Willy isn't a wonderful boss but whenever he gets all excited about something everything else seems to take a back seat (I wouldn't be surprised if he forgot his own name and/or gender).