A/N: Huzzah! I finally got it to work! Here is the last 'official' chapter of OneDepp. Some of you may like it, some of you may not. All is not as itmight seem. Enjoy my dear readers and hope to see you for the only minutely unrelated appendix/ices. DFQ xxx
Edit: I have now been through the entirety of this fic and solved, I am certain, every plothole including thedisappearance of Jack's rings, one spelling error, Jack's empty pistol chamber and the Werepretzel puppy. Anything else has been left for possible sequel usage. I'm so glad these glaring mistakes weren't noticed by anyone so far, muahaha!
Mort Rainey opened his eyes to find himself alone, on his couch, in his shack. No sign of any of those mirrors of his face. No man in a top hat watching him whilst hands restrained him. All at once the other mirrors had let go of him and each swallowed something. It was just a dream, nothing more, and only a flicker at that.
The writer sat up and rubbed at his face, nudging at the cloudy spectacles astride his nose. He focused on an empty packet resting on his coffee table and decided to blame it on his nightmare.
"No more Doritos for you, Mr Rainey."
That said he flexed his jaw, rolled over on the couch and fell asleep.
Constable Ichabod Crane blinked from a daze and clung tightly to his horse's mane as he reeled around to see his pursuer. It couldn't really be the headless horseman of the myth, could it? It certainly looked headless at that moment.
Ichabod gasped as the flaming pumpkin was hurled towards him. Unable to prevent it, the grinning fruit clubbed him in the head and he fell to the leaf-strewn ground.
Amid the sounds of human laughter coming from further into the woods, the constable's eyes rolled back and he slipped into unconsciousness.
The vile Captain Barbossa, for half a second, suffered a bout of confusion. Midway through an epic battle his opponent, his one nemesis, had appeared invisible – as though he'd been snatched out of the air. He would have to ask about that later, but Barbossa didn't know there was no later.
As if he'd never vanished, Jack Sparrow popped up in front of the cursed pirate. His drawn cutlass drove into the mutinous Barbossa's chest. Stunned at what he'd done, Jack had no time to stop his enemy from ripping the sword out of his torso and running him through.
Oh bloody hell, not again.
Edward woke up in his bed of cloth and straw, the humble sleeping place within an alcove in the mansion's attic. He sat up slowly, taking care not to nick himself with his own hands, and smiled at the moonlight shining in from the splintered roof.
A piece of paper rustled in the part of his bladed hand that might be called a palm if it weren't so shrouded in black leather. Taking enormous care, he turned to the array of newspaper and book clippings he'd pinned around his bed and, holding one clipping still with the flat of a blade, he pulled out a drawing pin with his teeth. The hand still holding the paper let it fall onto his lap. He unfurled it slowly, which took a painful amount of an everyday person's time but Edward was very patient. Then he slid a blade beneath it, lifted the paper to the wall and with his mouth pinned it with the clipping.
When the last bit of the note came uncrumpled, a tiny thing that looked like a marble dropped out, struck from the bed and rolled along the floorboards into the shadows.
Puzzled and curious, the boy looked to the note he had pinned and began to read.
Dear Edward,
You don't know who I am, but maybe some day you will remember. I hope that day will not be too soon, however. Do not be alarmed and please keep this letter always for it comes from a far-off friend. I have left to you a gift, one that is very small and I plead for you not to touch it until it is absolutely necessary.
One day there may come a time when your world will become that little bit too cruel and difficult to live in. Even I can make mistakes, and if that be the case, I wish you the very best. But if I am right and you ever find yourself cut off from the world outside after you have entered it, promise me you will eat the pill I have given. Do not worry, it's not poison! My condolences for how awkward you may find to pick the darn thing up.
I shake you warmly by your…uh…scissors,
Sincerely,
W.W.
The scissor-handed boy blinked then stared thoughtfully into the darkness where this strange piece of confectionary had escaped. He strained to remember something but it was like the ghost of a memory, something locked away deep in his mind…but a something that made him feel happy and that one bit less lonely.
Edward got up from his bed, drew in a breath of the crisp night air and then headed down to tend to his garden.
William sighed as he picked up the last remnant of his dismembered machine and passed it, hesitantly, to a worker. The Oompa Loompa nodded sympathetically to the chocolatier. Near to the ground the Werepretzel puppy nosed his shoes and whined.
"Guess it's back to the chocolate-covered grindstone then," Mr Wonka muttered. Then he laughed to himself. "Well will ya look at me mumblin' on like a doozy."
He pasted a bright smile on his face as he scanned the waiting crowd of tiny creatures.
"To work, people, to work! Less than a fortnight before the competition and only a smidgeon more time than that before we have visitors! This place'll never be up to scratch if we don't start this instant. Scoot!"
He threw up his arms, causing the Oompa Loompas to squeal excitedly. They fell over each other in the scramble to do their employer's bidding. Mr Wonka even found enough delight to chuckle at their movements.
As the last of his workers disappeared over the hill, the Werepretzel bounding after them, William's shoulders sagged and he blinked at a lone tear. Then he sniffed haughtily, shook himself and dusted off his sleeves.
He was just about to stride off across the hill when a sound made him stop in his tracks. It was like the sound of metal on metal, scraping…like scissor blades brushing together. His heart skipped at the thought of being reunited with whom he had claimed as his brother.
The chocolatier spun on his heel and started out, "Ed-!"
His jaw dropped.
"Not quite who you were expecting?" said the woman.
She wasn't what he would have called beautiful, but then Mr Wonka wasn't the sort of man to tell you what you'd find on the cover of Vogue. Not that he'd never read it. In fact he could probably tell you the description of every outfit in the magazine that month, but to see those models as people – it made him tremble.
Which is exactly what this woman made him do. She was of his height, but of course a curved, feminine build. Dark hair fountained around her head like thick spider legs, streaked with purple and red. Her eyes were discordant – one gold, one silver, both neatly edged with black liner that flicked out at the sides. She appeared to be wearing a black catsuit, but it did not reflect in that tasteless plastic manner, and about her shoulders hung an equally black cloak of raven feathers.
William felt very uncomfortable. How dare this woman not only trespass but attempt to out-dress him too? He opened his mouth to give her a piece of his highly respected mind but he froze when he saw the two beings squatting either side of her.
They sniggered, small green things with pink eyes and tufts of yellow-white hair coming from their heads and ears. Their noses were fat and large; fangs jutted from their bottom lips. What made the chocolatier's blood run cold was the sight of the knives in their hands – their scraping so similar to Edward's scissors.
"Wha'ou want?" he choked out.
"I don't want, Mr Wonka…William…I take."
The frightful woman hissed revealing two horribly pointed canines and strode for him. She grabbed his wrist and held her other hand aloft. The hapless Mr Wonka gazed in terror as a globe of jade-coloured crystal imploded into existence in her outstretched palm. For a moment he felt the cool glass of the orb touch his forehead and then they vanished.
The rushing of the chocolate waterfall and the humming of distant machines consumed the silence. All that remained of the world's finest chocolatier was a splendid cane, tipped with black and white stripes, nestling cosily in the swudge.
One Depp Too Far For Mr Wonka - Daemon Faerie Queen
