A/N: (Gasp) Yes, it's almost over. But don't fret, there is still one more chapter of the story at least. You'll find out what I planned for the sort of 'appendix' when it's done, and I hope you enjoy that too though it won't be anything to do with the sequel or an actual 'story'. It might be bad but oh well, hopefully the story was what counts hehe. Enjoy, my wonderful reviewers! DFQ xxx

Edit: There was a serious plothole that has been amended in this updated version of the chapter.


"It's all very simple," William said, his eyes fixed on the rest of the group. "Dimensional travel is likely to be the most disorientating form of transport seein' how it's so far and reeking of countless mysteries. So, those of you I figured might have a problem with nausea now have sickness pills, 'kay?"

Constable Crane wasn't convinced.

"But, Mr Wonka -," he began.

"O-kay?" the chocolatier repeated sternly.

Mort flinched and would have swallowed his sweet immediately had Ichabod not stayed his hand.

"Not that I'm one to mistrust you, Mr Wonka. Indeed you've been a marvellous host to us all but I can't help but feel you're keeping something from us. I say this because you have given one pill for all of us save Jack. Why would he be less prone to sickness than ourselves?"

"Duh. He's a sailor?"

"Pirate," Jack corrected.

"Whatever," Wonka replied, waving a dismissing hand. "Mr Sparrow should be used to jiggling all over the place from life on the sea. He won't need one."

"But…he felt sick in the elevator…" Edward murmured.

"All right fine, he gets one as well then!" William snapped suddenly and gave out one more marble-sweet, this time to Jack. "Now eat up!"

On the verge of tending to Edward first, Ichabod noticed Mr Wonka bite his lip.

"Everyone stop," said the constable, causing the rest to sigh. "Mr Wonka, I sincerely urge you to tell us what we are taking. Really. I want the truth."

"You can't han-," Mr Wonka started but trailed off at a warning glance from Mort. His shoulders sagged. His now watery eyes traced the floor. "They make you forget."

There was a gasp from Mr Rainey. The pirate, the constable and the scissor-handed boy looked as though they'd been slapped in the face.

"Forget what?" asked Jack.

"Being here, meetin' each other, learnin' more about yourselves than you're supposed to," the chocolatier answered mournfully. "If you go back with more information than you started with, you'll change your stories."

"But you said we could change them!" Mort cried.

"Of course I told you that," said Wonka. "How else am I meant to send someone back full knowin' he's gonna be a killer? You can't change your stories, not without risking the constitution of time itself! You're all endangering the universe if you step in that machine with the memories you have. Mr Crane, you learned too much about the horseman, and Edward…he's heard about his future."

"And what of Mr Sparrow?" Ichabod demanded. "Why didn't he get one from the start? Mr Rainey practically let on that he's going to survive the battle he was brought from."

"Listen to your own words, sir. He let on that he'll survive, he didn't say for certain. I'm sorry that I had to lie but I didn't see any other way of gettin' you guys to take away a part of your memories."

There was a few moments' silence.

"You're a good man, Mr Wonka," the constable said at last. "If you say this is what must be done, then this is what we must do. It has been an honour to meet all of you and I wish you all the very best with -."

"What Bodders is trying to say with his meandering little speech is 'yes they'll take the pills and we'll start off by apprehending Mr Rainey before he's any smaller of a dot on our horizon', savvy?"

"What?"

Of course, Mort was dashing for the hill as fast as his battered slippers would allow.

Jack pinched Mr Wonka's cane and knelt down. Curiously, he swung it around like a staff so that it brushed over the sugar grass. At the required thud, the pirate's hand shot out and plucked an invisible chocolate pineapple from its resting place.

Jack stood up and launched the fruit after the writer. Several yards away, Mort dropped – stunned.

The constable and the pirate retrieved him and held him in place beside the dimension machine.

"I've got two words for you, Mr Wonka," Mort growled. "Gene Wilder."

Baffled, the others dragged him into the machine's chamber and awaited the chocolatier's commands.

"Better force-feed Mr Rainey his pill before you take your own," said Mr Wonka. "Oh, and -." He skipped quickly over to the part of the hill where they'd had their picnic and returned with the black hat. "Make sure he's holding that. Anything else? Oh yeah, as soon as you give him the pill, everyone stand well back from each other. Don't wanna be appearing in the wrong worlds now, or even worse, only half of any of you arriving, haha!"

Ichabod gulped.

Jack put up a finger in question.

"Do I still 'ave to take one?"

Mr Wonka answered by tilting his head and looking at the constable expectantly.

It only took a moment for Ichabod to catch on.

"Not if you don't want to, Mr Sparrow," he said. "I doubt you know enough to jeopardise your existence. Likewise, it'd be a shame for all of us to leave without the memory."

Edward nodded.

Jack shrugged and passed his pill back to Mr Wonka who took it somewhat cheerily.

"Is that all, then?" wondered the constable. "Can we go?"

"'old on," Jack interjected. He grinned with an ounce of guilt as the others glared impatiently. "Don't suppose anyone's got a shot for me pistol? I ran out."

Ichabod sighed and fumbled with a pocket on the inside of his coat.

"In all my days, Mr Sparrow, whoever heard of a pirate that only carried one shot?" He took Jack's pistol and tipped a powder shot into its chamber. "There now, be careful not to set it off, it's the only spare I didn't leave in Sleepy Hollow."

Jack received his newly-filled pistol gladly.

"Much obliged, Bodders. Not exactly armed to the teeth yerself, eh?"

He tucked the weapon back into its holster and smiled absurdly at the group.

"Okay! Are you all ready?" the chocolatier cried excitedly.

"Yes!" shouted Edward and Ichabod.

"Aye!" roared Jack.

"Nnnnf!" said Mort.

"All righty, give Mr Rainey his medicine," William giggled.

Jack held the hapless writer still as the constable forced the marble sweet down his throat, taking care not to choke him. Then, after placing the hat on Mort's head, the rest of the companions in the chamber exchanged warm glances and took their own pills.

Mr Wonka meanwhile had taken a notepad from his inside pocket and was scribbling something quite hurriedly. Having done so, he tore the piece of paper from the notebook and scurried over to the chamber. Taking out another marble sweet, this one black in colour, he placed it upon the note and then crumpled the paper around it like a parcel.

The inhabitants looked at him blankly, believing themselves in a dream.

"Don't be alarmed, my dear people," said Mr Wonka. "You'll all wake up in a matter of minutes, 'kay? Just this one last thing to do."

He reached in and slipped the parcel between the nervous Edward's thumb and palm. Satisfied it would stay, Mr Wonka rushed back to the side of the machine and punched a sequence of buttons.

The chamber door slid shut and the machine began its performance. The discs spun, lights flashed and sirens blared. Steam hissed out of vents and the whole contraption shuddered uncontrollably.

At last it gave one final grumble and rested. The door opened and Mr Wonka peered in, anxious, biting the tips of his gloves. He sighed with relief, yet a little despondently.

They were gone.