I do not own anything from Charlie and the Chocolate factory. All rights and likenesses belong to Roald Dahl, Johnny Depp and Tim Burton. Hey! Did you know that if you can get 200 or more Oompa Loompas to sing "Constantinople" by They Might Be Giants on a constant basis for four days, annoyed Chocolatiers raise your bounty to 500.00? It's true! – Stealth Phoenix

Chapter 18

Opening her eyes, Veronica stared in blank amazement at the small figure standing at eye level next to her bed. Who's that? What is she doing in my apartment?

It took less than a minute for mental processes to come up to speed. She groaned and recovered her head with the blanket, burrowing under the pillow for more shelter.

Her eyes and ribs ached, her head pounded and her throat hurt horribly with the thick smell of smoke left trapped in her sinus cavities.

"Ms. Carmichael? We brought you clothing to change. Mr. Wonka will be stopping by in about half an hour," The small woman – Monica said.

Veronica felt a tugging and Monica's head burrowed under the covers from the side to regard her own bloodshot eyes.

"Don't worry dear," Monica gave her a sympathetic smile and patted her hand. "We'll help you get this all sorted out, after all, getting started is the hardest part.

"Why don't you go clean up? Your hair still smells like smoke."

Veronica shook her head, the tears she was so sick of but couldn't seem to stop welling in her eyes, "Can't I just stay here and molder away? I feel warm and safe."

Monica chuckled and drew the blankets away from their heads, "Sorry dear, no time for a pity party today. You need to get up and moving or the schnozwhanger will get you."

"The what?" she asked, interested and sitting up despite herself. "Mr. Wonka has mentioned a bit about your tribe, but what's a schnozwhanger?"

"Get cleaned up and I'll tell you," Monica set the clothing on top of the covers of the bed. "I'm sorry, but this is all we've got in your size. It used to be Charlie's before his last growth spurt. Still, it's all we've found unless you don't mind wearing Won-Ka's clothing?" Monica said.

Blushing with the thought of walking around in Willy's briefs…or was he a boxer man?…she rapidly shook her head and struggled out of the luxurious bed and looked at what Monica indicated.

Rather a ragtag collection of clothing, small old grey tee-shirt with "Candy is Dandy but Liquor is Quicker" on it, sweatpants that looked like it might run a little small, some thick woolen socks in a strange purple and orange. Worn grey women's underwear and a bra that looked like it would be way too large in the cup – she may have to skip those. Wearing someone's clothing was fine, but moving in on someone's underwear squicked her out.

She took the proffered clothing and headed for the bathroom. Considering she had taken a bath the previous night, she just needed to scrub the scent of smoke out of her hair.

She rapidly lathered and rinsed her hair with a strong lemon-scented shampoo, finally satisfied the smell was gone. She emerged from the bathroom wrapping her head in a towel. Monica sat patiently on the made bed waiting for her. Veronica took a seat on the floor to meet the small woman's eyes.

"A schnozwanger is a large carnivorous insect, living in Loompaland. As it was so much larger than we, it used to pick us up and carry us off to be devoured. It's sting was particularly vicious. It paralyzed as well as helped partially digest schnozwanger prey so it was nearly 100 fatal," Monica explained.

"That's horrible!" Veronica exclaimed.

Monica nodded,"We quickly discovered that if we hesitated in open areas out of covering foliage, they would quickly sweep down and kill us. That's why we say keep moving or the schnozwanger will get you."

Veronica suddenly held a lot more respect for the tiny people - living with that kind of danger day in and day out. Whinging about her apartment buring down seemed quite juvenile now in comparison.

"Thank you Monica." Veronica said gratefully. She crossed her arms and bowed from the waist.

Monica's dark eyes danced with glee, "You are welcome, dear. Now dry your hair or you'll catch a cold."

--

Veronica was trying to comb out her damp hair with her fingers when Willy knocked on the door and poked his head in.

"Good morning! Are you decent?" he called.

"The jury is still out, but you can come in," she replied, grimacing as she yanked a particularly stubborn knot out.

Willy entered carrying her worn black coat and messenger bag. "You left these at your brother's place last night. I ran back this morning and picked them up." He explained.

"Oh goodness! Thank you! My wallet is in here." Veronica exclaimed happily taking them from him. She opened the bag and quickly retreived a wide-toothed comb to work on her dripping mop.

Willy glanced at her and did a double take. His gaze seemed strangely hungry for a moment before he started to blush violently.

He jerked his eyes to the floor and said in a high voice, "Uh…no problem! So! Are you hungry?"

She cocked her head and studied him for a moment. What was going on here?

Deciding that he was embarrassed at her behavior last night she sighed and ran both hands through her hair distractedly.

"Willy, I'm so sorry about my behavior last night. If I've offended you either before the fire or after – I do apologize for putting you out."

"You haven't offended me. Quite to the contrary, it was a lovely evening – barring the dramatic conclusion of course," Willy studied the ceiling of her room with forced nonchalance still blushing violently.

She sighed – the last thing she wanted to do was play games today, "Okay – what then is bothering you?"

"Nothing! Really…nothing." He squeaked, clutching the cane compulsively, as if attempting to strangle it – his gloves giving off pathetic squeaks.

"Willy!" she used a dreaded parental voice she borrowed from her mother. It was a voice that promised swift and bloody consequences if the truth wasn't confessed in short order.

Poor Willy flushed a painful looking crimson, she wondered for a moment if his head was going to pop with all that blood rushing to it.

"Um….look down." He whispered closing his eyes and visibly bracing for impact.

Veronica looked down at herself and yipped in alarm. Her wet hair had soaked portions of her small tee shirt – portions that were already strained with portions of her anatomy which she considered more of a nuisance than anything else. The effect was something that probably would get her free drinks at any pub for the night.

She squeaked in alarm and grabbed the towel to wrap around herself. "Oh God!" she blurted, tears coming rapidly to her eyes again. This was the last straw.

--

"I'm so sorry, Willy! I had no idea," she whispered and closed her eyes to huddle under the huge towel.

"It's bad enough that I was crawling all over you last night, apparently burned down your building, pass out in your arms and you're kind enough to take me in, and what do I do? I come off like a three-dollar hooker throwing myself at you! My life sucks!" she started to wail.

Willy fluttered his hands in alarm, as if trying to calm her. "Now… now! It's not like that – I'm sure you would get more than three dollars."

Veronica wailed louder.

You are a pillock! Bob snarled. You couldn't just enjoy the show and say nothing could you?

Realizing what he had just said Willy tried to explain, "No! Not that…I mean you're not a hooker! You may kinda look like one with the wet tee shirt – not that I've seen many… I mean I don't go out cruising for ladies of the evening or anything…not that I would mind if you were one, my opinion wouldn't change...but you look so much nicer than they would."

She stuck her head under the towel and cried harder.

Nice going ace!

Willy was going down in flames – he just prayed that Veronica was too caught up in her tears to understand the hole he was digging himself into. In desperation he sat down next to her on the bed and gently took her in his arms, "I'm sorry," he whispered to the back of her head as he rocked her. Her sobs descended into soggy sniffles.

He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it into her hand – her snot was going to get all over his coat. She took it gratefully and blew her nose. Willy winced at the noise and the fact she was blowing into his handkerchief – Ew!

"Please understand Willy. I don't mean to come off like this to you," she said miserably. "I think you are a wonderful man, and I do like you. But I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

He was confused, "Come off like what?"

"All…slutty or something. I know you are not comfortable around people, and I don't want to intrude if I'm not welcome." She whispered, using the cloth to wipe the tears from her eyes once more.

Willy's eyes widened in sudden understanding – she thought he didn't like her! That he wasn't interested! He wondered if he had been so out of touch that he had missed some vital signal to the opposite gender to indicate that he was interested – highly interested in fact judging by Bob's evil presence in his head after all this time. As for not welcome…

You'd better clarify before she takes off and we never see her again, Bob growled.

Her eyes were red, her skin blotchy from the crying and the stress had washed out her face to corpse-like pallor. Her wet hair lay in lank snakey tendrils aross her towel clad shoulders.

She was also the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Veronica," he whispered, taking her chin once more into his grip and raising her head to meet his. "You are not slutty. In fact, I find you and your frequent embarrassment quite charming. Whatever told you that I wasn't interested?"

Then he kissed her.

Willy tried to take all the longing, the loneliness, the hope and all of the growing affection for this woman and channel it from his lips and into her.

He and Bob were united in one common cause for once.

She responded with gentle pressure and he felt like the sun was shining from behind his eyelids.

They parted and opened their eyes - violet met deepening green.

"That keeps getting better and better," he said in awe, giving her a grin.

"Wow!" she smiled for a moment, but the light soon dimmed in her eyes. Her body stiffened and she asked in a carefully neutral tone, "What else do you want from me?"

"I'm not going to take advantage of you, Veronica," he assured her gently, releasing her chin and moving back to hold her hands in his blue clad latex ones.

"I just wanted to clear the air and tell you that your interest is returned...," Willy trailed off.

"…just not right now, what with my apartment and studio burning down, trying to clean up the aftermath and hopefully keeping me out of jail for illegal residence," she finished bitterly for him.

"Oh that?" he waved off her concerns, "No problem. As the owner of the building, I hereby refuse to press charges against you for illegal residence. Thanks to the security measures, I also have evidence of someone attempting to break into the studio and have already turned it over to the police for their investigation." he smirked at her with a rather blood-thirsty grin.

"As for the aftermath…" he gazed into her eyes again. "I'll be there for anything you need. If you need funding – I'll give you whatever you need and you can pay me back when you can."

"If you need a shoulder to cry on – I want it to be my shoulder," Willy's thumb caressed the back of her hand, raising goosebumps down the back of her neck.

"If you need a good swift boot to the butt..." Willy hesitated, "I'm sure you can work something out between Spencer, Reggie or Charlie. Oh! Or Grandpa George – he's good at that."

She gave him a watery smile, but some darker emotion - something like fear - still lurked in her eyes.

"So, what now?" she asked, feeling rather overwhelmed and lost.

"Now? We join the Buckets for a bite to eat. I occasionally find that their down-to-earth attitude helps me figure out what needs to be done next. After all, that is why Charlie's my heir," Willy said

A rather sly expression came to camp on his face, "Although you might want to change your shirt. No use giving a growing boy ideas…"

"…Or me for that matter." He smirked giving her another heated look.

"Willy it's not like I have anything else to wear. Everything else I owned went up in smoke," she protested.

Willy lost focus for a moment in the thought of her ditching the shirt altogether.

Steady! Warned Bob.

"I'll lend you one of mine," he assured her after a moment.

He was fooling no one according to the expression on Veronica's face.

"Go get it, I'll wait here," she told him, wrapping the towel around her more firmly.

Willy looked abashed, "Sorry – bad thoughts. I'll knock it off for now, I promise."

Awww…

He rose and gave her a gallant bow, "Fair maiden, I will return forthwith with yon desired garb."

He twirled and made a rather grandiose exit. Veronica laughed shortly shook her head at his grandstanding.

--

She couldn't believe that he had said that! He had taken all of the doubts as to whether or not he was even interested and now her problems lay in the other direction – if she was capable of returning the favor. If she hadn't known what he was like, she could have interpreted the whole conversation as a rather creepy come-on. As it was, she understood his feelings were genuine if not just awkwardly expressed. Charmingly Willy.

She still felt shaky from Willy's proclamation. Her emotions careened between heel-clicking joy and nail-biting terror. She wrapped the towel/blanket around her and hugged herself as she shook with the intensity of her feelings.

With the discipline of long practice, she stopped that current train of thought and focused on what needed to be done rather than any long term implications.

Let the future bring what it may.