At the edge of the Bucket house deconstruction scene, at an altitude of a little less than a hundred feet up, Willy pulled the Elevator into a screeching hover. The sun was setting. That hour of half-light, when objects are hard to see, and anything might happen, was upon them. Upon them indeed, and all sorts of things that oughtn't to be happening were happening. Fingers below were flipping switches. Switches that were turning on lights. Lights that were driving back shadows. Shadows that in this morning's light, these switches wouldn't have touched, because in this morning's light, these switches hadn't existed in this place.

Shadows and lights aside, there was hustle-bustle. Too much hustle-bustle. There were way too many people… far more than before. Behind the lenses of his goggles, Willy's eyes narrowed. A corner of his mouth tightened. There's the flaw in this. The dropping off part. And there's another flaw. If the limo belonged to the city, it wouldn't have left when Terence approached. It would have stuck. If the chump in the limo were from the city, talking to Terence was the point. Willy put a steadying hand on the glass of the Elevator.

But the limo did leave. And now it's back. At Terence's shop, no less. That made no sense. A flee-or, flee-ing back to the flee-ee's business? A bad feeling began to form in the pit of Willy's stomach. It rose into his throat. He was missing something about that limo… maybe missing something about its relationship to Terence. But that wasn't all, gosh darn it. He was missing something going on right down here. The bad feeling got worse. He was missing loads of things it seemed, and that wasn't good. Things didn't work out so well when he missed things. The constricting muscles in Willy's chest began to remind him of the staves of a barrel. His breathing shallowed. Playing calm, turning it all over, looking for the facts he didn't have, the question Willy formed was measured.

"What is all this?"

"Lights."

Terence's hands were in his pockets, as if he were hiding something.

"Camera, action," muttered Willy, his other hand tightening around his walking-stick. "Nooooo… it's not just lights, dear Terence. It's people. Lots and lots of people on this li'l ole lot. Why?"

"You wanted this done. With these lights and extra people, it will be done by morning."

"Being done by morning isn't needed." Willy frowned. His voice became soft. "My part won't be done by morning."

"You can finish your part at your leisure."

"You can finish your part at your… no, I suppose you can't, you're right, I do want this done." Fidgeting, Willy frowned again. "And you want your part done…"

Willy's voice trailed off, but his mind was racing. Terence was being studiously blasé about this activity that was anything but. Terence wants this done this minute… yesterday even, he said so… I said so. I did say that, but not by morning. Not by tomorrow's morning… But Terence is doing it, was already doing it, this afternoon, finishing moving the house in no time, in the blink of an eye, like, just like… LIKE. That put the brakes on. Willy shook his head, clearing it, and started again. Why is Terence doing this? Because something is up, because Terence said he'd get it done, because he said he'd oversee getting it done, yes, oversee getting it done, and now he wants it done now, because, because… Because when it's gone it'll be… THIN AIR!

Getting to the end of it, his jaw going slack, Willy dropped his hand, taking a step away from Terence, to face him.

"You're leaving."

It was not a question. The timbre in Willy's voice conveyed his sense of betrayal. Silent, already knowing, Charlie's hand reached out. Willy stepped further back, avoiding the touch.

"I—" Terence began.

"We agreed I'm not wasting your time…" Willy whispered.

"I—"

"I was wasting my time... This was already in motion, you were doing this… You knew you were doing this, all afternoon, all the time I was talking to you, telling you things, telling you—"

The monotone Willy was speaking in was flat but accelerating, the one conclusion he'd reached right, but the ones he was heading for wrong, and the wrong ones were no where Terence wanted Willy to get. With his history, Willy getting there would be a loss for them all. Terence couldn't let this snap, and it was about to. Learning his lesson from last night, Terence pushed his intentions out of his thoughts, and so kept them off his face. Slipping his hands out of his pockets, he strode forward, and snatched up Willy's left wrist, holding it tightly at shoulder level.

"Willy MISTER Wonka! YOU did this!"

Terence's voice was like iron, his eyes burning into the centers of Willy's dark lenses. Like a husk torn away, the easy-going demeanor was gone. Charlie had never seen this side of Terence before, but he wasn't afraid. It was confidence Charlie felt. Terence was doing the right thing. The anxiety building in Charlie since the start of Willy's robot-like speech drained away. If it took forever, Charlie knew Terence wouldn't let go of Willy's wrist, and he wouldn't speak again, until Willy did.

Though he longed to, Willy didn't struggle. To lose would be unbearable. Being caught in this grip was unbearable. Being watched in this glass Elevator was unbearable. Thank God it was getting dark, and they were too high up to be seen clearly. Heck! Thank God for the lights down there putting what's going on up here even more in shadow! Terence needs to let him go, but Willy can tell he won't. He won't. He won't let him go. He won't, curse him, let him… Hey! And like a Vermicious Knid, burning up in the atmosphere in a streak of fiery light, blazing across the night sky, the gesture's meaning illuminated. Hey! Ha! Double ha, hey! Straightening from the rigid semi-crouch he'd adopted, like hardened wax before hot bronze, Willy made the effort to let his anxiety drain away. When he had, he took a small step forward. The only resistance left was in Terence, where he held Willy's wrist. Willy spoke first.

"Heavens to Murgatroyd, I do have a middle name. It's 'mister'! Well, I'll be."

Willy's voice was soft, with the musical lilt of laughter. Stepping away, Terence instantly dropped Willy's wrist.

"That's better," said Willy, mildly. "I take it by this demonstration, you mean to say you'll be back?"

"I will."

Willy stood at attention, finally setting his head at the smallest angle. Terence answered the unspoken question.

"As soon as I can."

The sentry stood for a minute longer. Then, with a small move of his shoulders, Willy laughed.

"Whatever that means. That was … an effective demonstration."

"Sorry. It was all I could think of to get the message across."

"You did. By the way… don't ever do it again."

"Would I have to?"

"No."

Willy looked down, and having resisted the impulse so far, shook out his wrist, using the gesture to indicate the scene below.

"I hate to keep your fans down the street waiting, I see they are waving, as they think I am, but how is this something I did?"

The bantering tone that Willy used when he was happy was back, and hearing it, Charlie sighed with relief. Willy threw him a glance.

"I'm sorry, Charlie. This is neither the time nor the place for these sort of things, any of these things that have gone on on this little jaunt so far—What did we set out to do? Drain the swamp?—But sometimes these sorts of things insist on sorting themselves out at the worst possible times, in the worst possible places. This latest thing... I do have my insecurities, and though I try my darnedest to secure myself from them, they sometimes secure me." Willy's voice took on a wry note. "As you've just seen."

"I'm not sorry, Willy," said Charlie. "I'd like to know who you are. I'm glad you're okay."

"Humph."

For a minute, that sound was all Willy could manage. Charlie had said his first name with touching sincerity. Another thing to add to this jaunt. In another minute, Willy could manage more. "Good luck with that, dear boy, and I wouldn't go that far, but thank you." With a sweep of his hand, and a doff of his hat, Willy bowed in Charlie's direction. "And now… back to you, and I did this, Terence?"

"You did insist I stay in the Factory," said Terence. "The watchers watching the watcher phoned me today. Ask George. The phone ringing off the hook was the first thing we heard when we walked through the door this morning. Yup. They were right on it. With the astounding feat of staying at your place accomplished, they want a one-on-one debrief, soonest, but not here. They want it where it won't make you suspicious, and that means at headquarters."

"They think you leaving won't make me suspicious?"

"Not in their minds. Leaving is what I usually do, and admit it… wouldn't me hunched over a pint, deep in a lengthy conversation with some new guy in town, worry you? What with me, having overnight, learned all the secrets of your Factory?"

Willy laughed.

"Yeah, that's true and not true."

A look of confusion crossed Charlie's face and was gone. Terence didn't know the secrets of Willy's Factory any more than he did.

"So not to make you suspicious, I'm off to the capitol—"

"How suspicious."

"—to see some new guy they've put on the case. All hot-to-trot, he is. Used to be a field agent. Thinks if he gets the facts from the horse's mouth, he'll get the insight. Everything I've seen, everything you've said… Everything you've done."

Willy's giggle was infectious.

"The poor slob! What a bore! I hope you'll showcase my inane prattling. I put a lot of thought into that. Doesn't pulling you out like this, ahhh—"

"Blow your cover?" supplied Charlie.

"That," agreed Willy.

"I'm to dazzle you with a plausible story. You know… some relative or other kicking the buck—" Terence glanced at Charlie. "I mean, umm, a wedding or what-all to attend. I put them off until tomorrow. Told 'em you'd never let me back in if I didn't complete my end of the bargain about the house before I left."

"So true." Swapping his walking-stick to its behind his back, parallel to the floor position, Willy sunk to his chin to his chest while he thought. "Ten points to you for the 'watchers watching the watcher' bit. That is fun to say. Were it not for the risk of boring you, I'd say it again. So those watchers watching you knew about that by this morning? They must have watched you go in."

"They must have watched me go to my shop. They didn't lose a second with that phone. It was already ringing."

"Did you not know about them? If not, why not? Isn't that your job? This is doing nothing for my insecurities, except making them more secure, and that's nothing to crow about." Freeing a hand from his walking-stick, Willy tapped Charlie on the shoulder. "If spending a night in my Factory is grounds for government abduction, dear Charlie, you and your familia better keep on a close watch out for black bags being slipped over your heads. Better yet, don't leave the Factory. I coulda told ya that's always a bad idea."

"Really?" said Charlie, two octaves higher than his normal voice. "Is that what you were worried about this morning, Willy?"

"No, actually—"

"Willy is being overly dramatic, Charlie. This is not an abduction. I spent part of my life working with these people. They are not going to harm you—"

"Nah, they're after me—"

"Keep your frock coat on, Willy, they're not after anyone, but there's no doubt now you've managed to get their full attention, and no, I didn't know about them. I'm getting soft and lazy in my retirement—remember that? I thought I'd retire here—and my former colleagues obviously don't trust me—"

"Doesn't that come with the territory?" Willy tilted his head to Charlie so they could share the joke.

"—as I thought they did—ha, ha, very funny—but hustling that up," Terence pointed to the dwindling house project, "should give me some credibility with them. My plan for them at headquarters is to showcase that you make candy."

"That might work," smiled Willy, rocking on his heels. "I do make candy."

Charlie's curiosity could stand it no more. If you listened long enough, grown-ups usually let on what they were talking about, especially if you were a good speller, but these two didn't.

"Who are these people, and how did you get their attention?"

"Ah," said Willy, "Who indeed? There are folks out there, Charlie, who share my interest in the Final Frontier, but who want to hog it all for themselves. We don't see eye-to-eye on that, and if this were a staring contest, they want me to blink. At the same time, they aren't sure it's with me they're staring. That's what they're trying, using Terence, to find out."

"With that prolonged Factory visit, they're sure you're taking me into your confidence."

"That's funny," Willy giggled, in a most malicious sounding way. "They won't when they see you. They'll think I'm toying with you."

"Why's that?"

For answer, Willy only smiled.

"Terence."

"Willy."

"I'm changing the subject. There is no way I'm dropping you off down there. There are far too many people. I'd be mobbed, in that snazzy jacket I gave you, you would, too, Charlie would be crushed, the parens are still at the Factory and wouldn't approve—"

"Of me being crushed?"

Charlie was laughing.

"Yeah, that," answered Willy, "I'd get in trouble, and the Blob has no interest in us. He's seen the Elevator, made an unsightly gesture… take it from me, he's very rude, Charlie… continued on his way, and Terence, he's about to turn on to your street. If you ask me, the party's at your place. The Blob believes the turkey in the limousine is more interesting than we are, and as that's not possible, we'd best, ere we lose your talents, find out who it is in that limo."


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; reviews are fun.

Squirrela: Yeah, how 'bout that limo and Willy? It looks like he's re-thought it's importance in this chapter. Thanks for the review.