Willy listened. For about ten sentences. Then, without turning from the window, a gloved hand detached itself from his walking-stick and found its way into the air above his head, wrist and fingers fluttering, like a colorful private signal flag, in a nothing wind.

"Skip all that. I was there. Answer me this," he asked, falling into a chant. "When, did I, lose you, to 'we'?"

The interruption caught Terence off guard. He was in the process of settling in, his feet destined for the top of Willy's desk—that oughta teach Willy not to put him there—but also because if Willy showed no reaction to Nora's misgivings, a distinct possibility, Terence felt pretty sure he'd show a reaction to where Terence had put his feet. A strategy to keep things moving, but Willy's query short-circuited the plan. Arresting the stretch, Terence sat up, his feet re-finding the carpet.

"Say again? When did what? We?"

Willy turned, his walking-stick snapping to his side, his voice as crisp and fresh as chilled iceberg lettuce, and like the stems of those leaves, a touch bitter.

"Oui, old chap, I said, 'we', and not meaning 'small'. Ring a bell? As in you lately saying, 'We all do'. As in, 'I do what I do, and 'WE' don't like it?'" For half a beat, Willy turned his head to the side, upper lashes meeting lower, before he swung back, implacable, eyes full open, irises glittering like shards of deepest amethyst. "I've asked you why you're here… politely, and more than once. This is what you're choosing to tell me." Willy cocked his head, eyes narrowed in an otherwise expressionless face. "Limo aside, I conclude you've become the paren's proxy, sent here by her to lecture me on my perceived paucities."

Placing curled fingers on the edge of the desk as he listened, Terence sat straighter, each word a deeper sting. A lackey was he? Willy was calling him a lackey? Like hell! Willy was talking about taking sides, and if Terence were hearing him right, Willy was putting only himself on his. What the… cursing embargo be damned… fuck was that? Willy was as wrong as he was insulting.

Before he could think any further, the stab of anger building in the pit of Terence's stomach forced him to rise, the desk an unwanted barrier. The sourness choking the back of his throat made words impossible. Out of the corner of his eye, Terence caught a flash of the whiteness of his knuckles as he pushed against the desk. It slowed him down some, the intensity he saw there shocking him with its quick development, even as he felt the heat of a flush creeping up his neck. Terence barely recognized himself—no one got to him—but it was the morphing look on Willy's face that brought Terence back to himself. He recognized too well the baleful stare of the hooded eyes, the partially bared teeth, the corners of the lips set in an involuntary parody of a cheerful grin. Dredged from their long ago past, it was exactly the look lent by the braces. In the airy office, Terence could almost see the dull, metallic glint of that sinister, demonic halo. It was a look as intimidating as it was freakish, and back in the day, it had worked a treat at keeping people at bay.

Recovering, Terence made a strangled sound in the back of his throat that could have been a laugh. That look hadn't worked on him then—he'd gone right past it—and it wouldn't work on him now. But it almost had, as caught up as he'd let himself get in other people's interpretations of Willy. And it reminded him, coming as it did from those long gone years, of what was at the heart of the matter at hand… the heart of this conflict. And that conflict wasn't between Willy and him, however much its repressed malevolence might try to manifest itself that way today.

With a slow exhale, Terence relaxed his hands and spread his arms, willing his fingers to straighten, his fingertips splayed on the leather desktop as he leaned on them for balance. The stance let him appreciate, for the first time, exactly where he was. He should have realized it sooner. He was in Willy's office, behind Willy's desk, sitting in Willy's chair, which in an office, is the ultimate position of power. Willy had put him there, specifically, and this simmering strife was no doubt the reason. With a recognizable chuckle, Terence lowered himself back to his sitting position. He had no doubt now, as unpleasant as this situation might be, as unpleasant as this situation might get, he was welcome here, and wherever this situation might lead, he need not fear speaking his mind. With a smile and shake of his head, Terence lifted his hands in brief appreciation, before folding them calmly on the desk in front of him.

"It does sound that way, doesn't it?"

Willy closed his mouth, his face slack.

"It isn't, though, and I shouldn't have gone there. You said this would be hard for you. I had no idea what you really meant. But thanks for this. I've never seen a more subtle way of saying, 'I've got your back' in the midst of… whatever this is… ever."

Willy came back to life.

"Gosh darn right, by golly. Told ya."

"Yes, you did."

"And make a note, I don't play Telephone."

"I'll tell her."

Willy stamped a foot.

"No! You won't! Gee willikers, will you get the Snozzwhangers out of your ears! I said, 'I don't play Telephone'. Since when do you? It always turns into Soap Opera, and that bores me silly. I'll tell her."

Yeah, thought Terence, Telephone. That's what this was. Since when? Now that Willy mentioned it, it was one of the more odious aspects of this undertaking, and with Willy's blessing, he was glad to give it up. He felt a lightness come over him at Willy's insistence he do so, that cheered him immensely.

"So noted."

Satisfied, Willy seemed to fluff himself, the smile he pasted on his face as smug as he could make it. He couldn't let them let Terence play messenger-boy for them. If he did, Terence would bolt.

"Phew… Me and that aside, I bet ya didn't realize how hard this was gonna be on you."

At this new, odd observation, feeling better than he had for days, Terence laughed, from deep in his throat.

"I bet you're right. I wouldn't have guessed the amount of torture involved in this in a million years, and I've no idea why. This has nothing to do with me. If I'd known, I doubt I'd've encouraged you to do it."

"You're wrong about that… the nothing part. But you were right about recommending this, though I didn't really believe that until a little bit ago. Because for Charlie's sake, this is the only right way to do this. If I could think of any better way, I'd be doing that. But I couldn't, and to this minute, I can't. So here we are, stuck in this fire swamp, dangers erupting at every turn." His smile grew mischievous. "It's kinda exciting."

"The only thing that keeps me playing," allowed Terence.

Willy smiled, pleased with himself. "But as un-comfy as I thought you'd made me, I didn't know how on-edge this was making you, till my desk saved me, and wanting to share the pain, though I guess I didn't need to, I kinda got ya back today, I think, I hope. Did I?"

Terence's brows furrowed. He'd been following Willy till now, and feeling good about it. But here he was, lost again. Got him back?

"There are times, Willy, when I really wish… and I mean really, first try… that I knew what in tarnation you were talking about."


Nora's truck screeched to a halt beside Noah's. She bounced out of the cab on the balls of her feet, the elation flowing through her looking for an outlet. She didn't find it looking over at Noah. He had his window rolled down, and was conferring with the Professor-In-Charge. How boring! She skipped around the trucks to see how the house was coming. What she saw was a sandcastle, melting with each new wave. Melting! There was an idea.

Running out into the dump, Nora looked for a crevice in the closest pile of debris. The snow was gone from the work site, beaten away by the activity. Were it not frozen, the site would be a muddy morass. Yuck! She thought of the Chocolate Room and all that delicious, edible, incredible Swudge. How did Willy keep that clean? And then it hit her. Until her family arrived on the scene, that hadn't been a problem.

"No one ever goes in, and no one ever goes out," Nora sang to herself, as she fashioned a snowball.

Clutching her ammo, hiding it behind her other hand, Nora saw Noah alight from the truck as the Professor moved off. She let fly, the snowball exploding with a dry whoosh as it landed squarely between Noah's shoulder blades.

"Hey, no fair," Noah turned, seeing it was his wife, and smiling a toothy smile. "That was in the back."

"I know," Nora smiled in return, running up to him, her arms snaking around his waist. "Made you turn around!"

"So?" Noah's arms mirrored his wife's. She was so happy!

"So now I can kiss you," she bubbled, and Nora reached up and kissed him, a quick peck on the lips. Where she was, was catching up to her, and a little embarrassed, she looked around.

Noah didn't care where they were. Touched by her spontaneity, he tightened his hold as she made to flee, and bending, his lips met hers, in a soft kiss. It was lovely. Nora forgot again where she was, and gave herself over to the tingling sensation of warmth, in this sea of cold.

A student unloading the cargo of lights, catching sight, nudged the greasy-haired new-comer beside him.

"There's a bucket full. Look at the fossils… getting it on like they're not half-dead."

Not paying any attention to what he couldn't care less about, the greasy-haired new-comer straightened up when the student nudged him again.

"What's Wonka got in that factory that makes 'em feel so good?"

"Ugh," grunted Felix, not liking the look of the generator he was seeing, or this poking. They might want him to help move it, and it looked heavy. Felix tore his eyes away from the generator, with the accursed cursive Wonka 'W' logo plastered on its sides. The guy had said, 'bucket full', not 'eye full'.

"Ya got me. Those the Buckets?"

Felix had seen the two get out of the trucks. Raiding the 'fridge and vegging at his parent's house for most of the day had finally gotten old. Suspension or no, he'd decided to schlepp down here to see what he could see before he went back to his flat. Not seeing that asshole watchdog James, he'd come in for a closer look. The kiss he was seeing only looked sweet to him, but the dude was right about one thing… they did look half-dead. Other than that, they looked like nice people. Like down to earth people, like his mom and dad. Not like that back-stabbing Wonka. They'd learn.

"Yeah, that's them," said his informer, suspicion creeping into his voice. "Where've you been?"

Ducking his head, Felix hunched his shoulders.

"Working too hard to notice," he mumbled. "Did you want to move this?"

"Yeah, dude, we're gonna put it over there. Show's over, anyway."


Across town, set too high for the usual urban animals to trigger, in a spectrum the human eye couldn't see, Dr. Wonka's steps upon the frozen earth of the lot as he moved into it, broke multiple beams of invisible light. Surreptitiously, cameras mounted in the architecture began to whirr. In Dr. Grant's study, a deep, musical chime filled the quiet of the house. From a pigeonhole in the desk, Ms. Chime's steady friend, Mr. Red Light, instantly joined the party, shining, patiently hopeful, into the empty room. They both promised a show, but their separate urgings that Dr. Grant fire up his monitors and enjoy it, went unheeded.


Noah lifted his head, smiling into his wife's eyes.

"Why the sudden happiness, dear?"

"Willy Wonka is talking to me!"

Noah shook his head and dropped his arms.

"I think he's talking to all of us, dear. I'll grant you, mostly after you say something to him first, if you can find him, but there it is."

"No, no, I don't mean that. I mean he's talking to me, about his past, about his mother! Libby says he never talks about his mother. Libby doesn't even know if Willy knows her name," Nora lifted Noah's forearm and wrapped her hand around it as she led him away from the bustle of activity. "I mean, Willy didn't tell me anything about her really, just about when she left, and I didn't understand a word he said, well, I understood the words, but I didn't know what they meant, but I do now, I figured it out on the drive down the hill, and—"

"Whoa, whoa, I can't keep up." Noah patted her hand. This was good news if Willy was contemplating letting loose some of that tight rein he kept himself under, living with him would be a lot easier, but excitement like this to the high-strung was the same as throwing gasoline on a fire.

"When did he tell you all this?"

"Last night, when I got back." With a pout, Nora stuck her chin in the air. "You just wanted to sleep."

"Sure, I remember. I won't make that mis—"

Nora suddenly clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes all wide and staring, her voice hushed and reedy.

"Oh, no!"

"What?"

"I talked to Terence, about this morning!"

"This morning?"

"This morning," Nora said, glancing with worry at Noah. "Willy left suddenly. He was showing me around. Oh, no! I hope Terence doesn't say anything to him! Oh, no! Of course he will! I asked him to! Oh no! Willy will think I'm a blabbermouth! He'll think he can't trust me. Oh, no! Willy will think I don't trust him!"

They were far out in the field by now, rusting debris their only companions.

"Do you trust him, dear?"

"Of course I do. I think I do. Yes, I do." Nora took a step away, to see his face. "We're moving into his Factory, aren't we? That proves it." Her husband was quiet, but the wind blew back a lock of hair from his face. She saw the pinched quality around his eyes, and the rounding of his shoulders. "Aren't we, dear?"

"Are we, dear?" Noah looked up at the sky, the clouds all but gone, revealing the watery sun, low on the horizon. "Willy didn't meet Charlie today, and the Oompa-Loompas seemed upset to me. They know him better than we do. Willy changes his mind. He ran the largest Chocolate Factory in the world once, and he invited people in. Like now. Then one fine morning he decided to close it down. Didn't open the gates that day. Left everybody all dressed up, with nowhere to work. And you know what? I heard it was over something to do with trust."

Noah stopped, putting a caring arm around his wife's shoulders. His smile was as glum as his face.

"Willy changing his mind has disappointed this family before. He may do it again."

Biting her lower lip, Nora shivered, nestling closer to her husband, her thrill of discovery gone.

"If he does, I hope it's not because of anything I've done. I thought we were getting along."


I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in any of its many forms, and there is no copyright infringement intended. Thanks for reading, perhaps reviewing, and just in general, for stopping by.

Thank you dionne dance. It seems in Willy Wonka's family, the phrase, 'There's a lot riding on your smile' takes on a whole new meaning. And thank you Linkwonka88. I'm glad you think so.