I do not own anything from Charlie and the Chocolate factory. All rights and likenesses belong to Roald Dahl, Johnny Depp and Tim Burton. No Profit is being garnered from this work.
Tupik-Ra has delivered a missive from Mr. Wonka indicating that if I don't cease and desist influencing his workers in "subversive" ways he would cut off my chocolate supply. No fair!
– Stealth Phoenix
Chapter 19
Willy scampered through the halls, his delight giving his feet wings. Reaching the short polished marble hallway in front of his personal quarters, he nearly slid past the door on the slick floor. Grabbing desperately for the handle, he managed to keep his balance and come to an abrupt stop.
He quickly entered his bedroom and studied the three tall wardrobes. All were of a rich polished maple, gleaming in the sunlight from the large stained glass window above his bed. All three looked as if they could cheerfully transport a family of eight to the magical land of their choosing within their doors. Willy strode over and threw open the doors of each revealing a eye-watering array of colors and clothing stuffed inside.
"Now, what to pick?" he wondered, his practiced eye running over the selection. Something silk, preferably in a bright color to cheer her up.
There was a knock on the open door behind him. Without turning he said, "Come on in!"
"Good morning Won-Ka," said Sherman's deep voice.
Willy turned to regard the small man with surprise. This was an unusual twist – normally he was the one seeking Sherman out, not vice-versa.
"Good morning Sherman. What can I do for you today?" he asked.
"I wish to speak to you of Ms. Carmichael," Sherman said, studying the taller man before him.
Willy returned his attention to the closet before him, "Sure! I was just finding her a new shirt since the one she was wearing got soaked. Do you think that blue or green would look better on her?"
Sherman shook his head, "Neither – Chocolate brown would be most flattering. Won-Ka, may I have your attention, please?"
Realizing the seriousness in Sherman's tone, Willy turned his back on the closet and indicated Sherman to take a seat in the wingback chair before the fireplace. He quickly angled his own matching seat to face his psychiatrist. "Is something the matter?" he asked, worried.
"Just a concern, Won-Ka," said Sherman. He had heard about their arrival last night and took it upon himself to keep an eye on the woman as she rested. "Ms. Carmichael was much traumatized last night. She did not sleep well and awoke several times from nightmares."
"I know that this has shaken her pretty hard. I already promised to help her with whatever she needs to get back on her feet," Willy said.
"That is good that you offered to help. What was her response?" Sherman asked, crossing his legs.
Willy paused, remembering her reaction to his words. "Well, she seemed rather suspicious of me, actually. She asked me what I expected from her in return."
"A natural reaction," Sherman said. Noting with a raised eyebrow Willy's surprise, he continued, "Indeed, Won-Ka. Imagine losing all that you hold dear, and then someone who you've only known for a few short weeks offering to "magically" fix everything."
"I see." He scowled. He'd never thought of it that way.
"Monica mentioned that you were physically affectionate with her as well," Sherman said, smirking at the rising blush on the taller man's face.
"Yes, well. It was mutual." He coughed, embarrassed. "Please, I feel that is none of your business."
"I apologize. It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable. Considering your fears of outside contamination, I am pleased to find that you are able to work beyond that to be able to feel comfortable touching Ms. Carmichael."
"She's worth it," Willy whispered, twisting his hands together.
"That is good! Ms. Carmichael will need the support. What is her response to your overtures?" Sherman asked, getting to the heart of the matter.
"She seems to like it when we kiss. But, something also seems to hold her back. I notice that she seems afraid of me for some reason," Willy replied, thinking beyond the first flush of emotion and trying to see what lay on the other side.
"What prior relationships has she been in? Was she hurt previously?"
"She mentioned an attack, but I don't know anything else about other boyfriends," Willy said slowly.
"Ms. Carmichael may have been hurt physically and emotionally in a prior relationship, Won-Ka," the tiny man said giving his friend a solemn look. "It would make it difficult to trust. Depending how long ago it may have happened, she may not be fully recovered. Taking away her personal belonging and residence would exasperate that – and thrusting her into a new environment would make her even more hesitant."
"Bringing her here was a mistake then?" asked Willy, dejected.
"Quite to the contrary! I feel that bringing her here was the best possible decision you could have made. The factory is a place outside the normal world. It will give her the opportunity to heal without undue influence or stress. Her physical health seems fragile and stress will make it worse, but we'll ensure she'll get the best possible care – provided she consents to take it and stay here."
Sherman regarded Won-ka sternly, "It would also help to take things slowly developing your relationship. Let her determine the pace or you may risk alienating her."
Willy blushed slightly as he realized that letting Bob out more frequency had caused him to act a bit more wolfishly than Veronica may have felt comfortable with. He resolved to tone it down a bit.
Unless she starts it first, Bob chimed in.
"Thank you for letting me know about this Sherman. It gives me a great deal to think about," Willy said thoughtfully, starting to rise, but Sherman held up one hand. Willy returned to his seat, a sinking feeling in his stomach.
"There's more?" he asked.
"Tupik-Ra has been working with the Police Department releasing our surveillance video. They confided in him that they have found evidence of the intruder as well – things that the fire did not consume," Sherman seemed uncomfortable.
"What is it?" Willy asked, his fear rising.
"Whoever broke in intended harm upon Ms. Carmichael. They found the remains of a bag and forensics showed the remains of duct tape, a gag, tools and a stun-gun. This individual is hypothesized to have broke into both the apartment and her studio with the intention to torture Ms. Carmichael for an unknown purpose." Sherman said slowly, his own disgust with the information apparent.
Willy froze. For a moment, he couldn't believe the words coming out of his friend's mouth. Terror for Veronica and fury that someone would want to harm the most inoffensive person he'd ever met warred within. The man was still out there. His fear spiked with that thought.
"Do they have any leads?" he asked, numbly.
"They are pursuing a few now. They are searching medical facilities with new burn victims and seem confident that he'll turn up shortly. Considering the toffee trap coverage and what he had to do to escape them, I am confident that he'll turn up shortly."
"She shouldn't know about this for now. I want her to feel safe," Willy insisted.
"That is something only you can decide – although, I would recommend against withholding the information for too long. She may resent you for trying to protect her." Sherman nodded and jumped from his seat.
Willy rose and thanked the small man absently, his thoughts whirling. He must have zoned out for a moment because he felt a small hand tugging at his trousers. He turned with surprise to see Sherman offering a silk shirt in a rich dark chocolate brown.
"Your heart is in the right place, Won-Ka. You have made great progress in reaching out and caring for Ms. Carmichael. We judge that despite her trials, her own feelings reflect your own. Follow your instincts and things will turn out well for both of you."
Willy took the shirt with a smile and Sherman crossed his arms, bowed and exited the room.
--
Veronica had managed to stave off the panic attack and finished putting her wild hair into its typical messy bun. Bloody mop! She thought viciously blowing a wayward strand from out in front of her eyes. Without its daily regimen of products and blow-drying it was waving uncontrollably – puffing up to enormous proportions like some insane Texas beauty queen.
Willy returned bearing the promised shirt. He seemed somewhat preoccupied, "Here you go! As promised."
She quickly slipped the shirt on, enjoying the weight of expensive silk sliding sensually against her arms. She set to work buttoning the shirt and rolling the sleeves to her forearms,
"Thank you!"
Willy enjoyed her enjoying the shirt – the deep color suited her indeed. It warmed her complexion and made her eyes seem more green than normal. The warm riot of hair appeared more copper than brown next to the color of the shirt. Looks like I can add color coordination to the growing list of Oompa Loompa talents, he thought to himself.
"Ready to meet the rest of the Buckets?" He asked.
She grabbed her messenger bag and slung it across her body, "Ready."
Always the gentleman, he offered his arm and she rested her hand in the crook, allowing him to guide her from the room. They travelled a dizzying array of hallways, crossing and recrossing multiple times. "Geez! How big is this place?" she asked exasperated, as they had been walking steadily for 10 minutes.
"Right now? I'm not sure. The factory tends to grow on its own. I have a team exploring the far reaches; they're supposed to be reporting back in a week or so," Willy explained.
She couldn't tell if he was joking or not.
They arrived at the Wonkavator and he held open the door to allow her to step in. "Are we leaving the factory?" she asked, wrapping one wrist in the purple velvet loop hanging from the ceiling.
"Not this time. The Wonkavator is not only a means of transportation outside, it goes to every room in my factory as well. You might want to brace yourself." He warned, pressing a button.
Veronica shrieked as the Wonkavator plunged into free-fall, corkscrewing as it fell. Willy was supremely unaffected, as if plunging to his death was an everyday event.
Knowing him, it was.
There was a minute slowing before the Wonkavator lunged in a vertical direction and she was swung almost to the ceiling with the momentum of the change.
"How are you sticking to one spot?" she asked desperately.
"Dunno. Good balance I suppose."
He leaned closer to wrap one arm around her waist from behind, the other resting on the top of his cane. Oddly enough, it was as if the man had his own gravitational field. Veronica found that she could stand unaffected by the violent changes in direction.
"Don't talk about the project in the open without me clearing you first. The Oompa Loompas are everywhere and I think I may have found a way to start it up again. We'll be able to talk at the Buckets. My workers keep to a tight schedule and respect their privacy." Willy's warm breath tickled the back of her neck and she couldn't repress a shudder of delight at the sensation.
"Are you cold?" he murmured in her ear and drew her closer to share his body warmth.
"Thank you." She whispered, closing her eyes to the disorienting blur of light and color as they plunged through the factory. Her subconscious was telling her that he was safe and she relaxed into the sensation of being held in the crook of his strong arm and against his firm body.
The Wonkavator slowed and came to a stop and Willy's arm reluctantly released her. "Here we are, safe and sound."
Before them was a large steel door. Willy paused and took out a huge key ring and began sorting through them muttering under his breath. "I've got to get this thing better organized." He gave a cry of triumph before using a large old-fashioned iron key to unlock the huge door.
He paused dramatically, violet eyes gleaming with delight. "I have to confess. I've wanted to share this with you for a long time. I hope you can appreciate the fruits of my labors." Then he pushed open the door.
Veronica took a moment to process the immensity of what her eyes were frantically telegraphing. She blinked a few times, frozen on the threshold. Willy took her hand and led her inside.
A pastoral wonderland lay before her. A huge waterfall thundering at the far end of the gigantic room perfumed the room with the heady smell of chocolate. Myriad other tantalizing scents filled the air and she closed her eyes to breath them all in. Where were these wondrous smells coming from?
When she opened her eyes, she noticed the strange-looking plant life dotting the room. "Are these from Loompaland?" she asked curiously, crouching to regard a pale yellow buttercup along the grey stepping stone path.
He smirked, "Indirectly – notice anything, yet?"
"There's so much to be seen. It's a virtual wonderland! How did you manage to get plants to grow…" she froze her inspection of the buttercup as she realized what the rest of her senses were arguing with her eyes about.
"This is candy?" she whispered in awe. The whole room, the plants, the rocks – everything was made of candy.
"Surprise!" Willy laughed.
Veronica could only gaze around in shock. The amount of care and work that went into even one plant, much less a whole room of infinite plants was staggering.
"Oh, Willy!" she said in quiet respect.
"Go ahead, take a nibble – anything and everything is open to sample. I started this room when I first opened my factory and it seems to have taken a life of its own," he knelt swiftly and plucked a tiny dandelion from the grass. Holding it out to be nibbled, she quickly obliged and was delighted with the sweet floral flavor that was tasted more from the nose than the tongue.
"Why do you need me again?" she asked mildly peevish at the sheer genius of the room. How was she expected to come up with anything like this?
"Because you have a talent for single perfect pieces. My gifts lay in the manufacture of many," he said matter-of-factly, tugging her along the stepping stone path. With that information, she was able to study a tree – a sugar maple to be totally correct. Most of the leaves were identical, not fitted with the variance of small imperfections and vein detail that made up the leaves of a real tree. She started to feel better about herself again.
They approached a small ramshackle house, one that had seen more bad times than good in the middle of this candy paradise. She could smell eggs, rashers and toast and could hear the soft murmur of voices from within.
This must be the Bucket household, she marveled. Why did they move the entire house here?
Veronica realized the answer as soon as they entered.
"Morning Buckets!" Willy called cheerfully.
The small room was glowing warmth. Golden light spilled from the fireplace, gleaming gently against polished metal utensils. Simple pottery plates and bowls were filled with creamy scrambled eggs, smoky bacon gleaming with fat, and a rack of perfectly toasted bread were set on the long wooden farm table. Mismatched chairs hosted a strange gathering of people who turned to greet Willy as he came in.
"Everyone! This is Veronica Carmichael – I know you remember me mentioning her." Willy announced, guiding her to an empty chair and helping seat her.
"Quite the gentleman, isn't he?" joked a small old woman dressed in a nightgown and kerchief on her soft white hair.
"Indeed he is," she said softly, feeling rather intimidated by all the new faces.
Charlie was seated at one corner and he gave her a quick wave and a grin, "Morning Ms. Carmichael. Let me do introductions. This is my mother, Clara," he indicated a small dark curly haired woman with bright laughing eyes and a shy grin.
"Thank you for having me Clara," Veronica said, smiling at the friendly face.
"Our pleasure. I'm sorry we have to meet under such unfortunate circumstances – but we're glad you could join us," she said. Clara appeared not to be too many years older than Veronica.
"This is my dad, Noah," continued Charlie.
The raw-boned short man with dark hair and eyes and a cheerful hangdog expression raised his hand in greeting, "Hello!"
"This is my Grandpa Joe, Grandma Josephine, Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina," Charlie finished, pointing out the grandparents as they were named.
"Yeah, yeah. Nice to meet you – let's eat!" grumbled Grandpa George.
Willy removed his hat and set the cane in the old tin umbrella stand by the door and quickly seated himself as dishes started their migration around the table.
Veronica took a slice of toast and a single scoop of eggs for herself. Willy frowned at the small amount of food, but said nothing. She did however, pour a cup of steaming coffee with relish and sipped with an ecstatic expression bordering on nirvana. "Mmmm! Great coffee!" she said, savoring the hot liquid as it trickled down her throat and hit the bottom of her stomach with a satisfying splash.
"Thank you. It's the only way to pry me out of bed in the morning," said Clara, enjoying her own cup.
Light conversation filled the air and Veronica basked in the homey atmosphere. It was something she missed from her youth. Her family, after bouncing from activity to activity through the week always made a point of enjoying a large breakfast with each other before church on Sundays. She'd always been in charge of pancakes. She and Reggie had tried to reinstate the tradition between the two of them, but it never had the same family feeling.
Once folks were full, conversation dwindled to a content lull – sipping of liquid the only sound. Charlie started clearing the dishes without being asked and Veronica rose to assist him.
"I think there is a way to salvage the Exodus Ceremony presentation." Willy said, doodling with a ring of water left by a glass.
"The Exodus Ceremony is what the Oompa Loompa are calling the anniversary of their migration from Loompaland," Charlie explained as he scraped plates and handed them to Veronica to wash at the tiny sink.
"So that's what you meant. After taking a bit to them, I understand what significance the migration has for them." Veronica said as she ran water to begin washing the breakfast dishes.
"I'm going to set up a room as a workshop for you Veronica. It'll be accessible only to you and I'll tell them that you value your privacy greatly and it would offend you to have them intrude in your studio without invitation," Willy said thoughtfully, trying to work through details as they came to him.
"Too true – although I'll have to make sure I don't inadvertently offer invitation."
"I hope you don't mind, but I'll be emphasizing your distress from losing everything in the fire and you using work as a coping mechanism." Willy said, shooting her an apologetic glance.
She worked silently, little did he realize that he was speaking the truth and no degree of exaggeration was necessary.
Clara was perceptive however, "Mr. Wonka, why don't I go with Ms. Carmichael to pick up some basics while you set up her workshop?"
Willy smiled gratefully at Mrs. Bucket, the threat to Veronica still heavy on his mind.
"Thank you! I appreciate your help. I'm having a hard time figuring out what I need to do first. Do I need to contact the fire department before going out there to see if anything can be salvaged?" Veronica asked wistfully.
"I'll call them and let you know. They might still be digging through the rubble trying to figure out what happened," Willy said.
Willy decided to tell her this evening what he had learned about what had happened to her apartment. There was an off chance she may recognize the man who was after her. "Reggie and Spencer are expecting a call on their cell phone as well. If you'd like to call first before heading out, I'm sure it would set their mind at ease."
Charlie and Veronica quickly finished the dishes and left them in the drainer to dry. "Would you please escort Veronica to my office to use the phone, I'll join you in a moment," Willy suggested.
They left the small house and Willy turned to Mrs. Bucket. "There's something I need to fill you in on before you head out. Thanks to our surveillance, we managed to get evidence of someone breaking into the studio and her apartment. Whoever it was wasn't breaking in for altruistic purposes," Willy said, only mild sarcasm coloring the last comment.
"Is she in danger?" Mrs. Bucket whispered, one hand clasping her throat protectively.
"I don't know. Just keep your eyes open and if you see anyone tailing you – get someplace public and give me a call," Willy reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a bright purple phone with a stylized "W" in bright gold on it. "Just hit 1 and it'll dial Charlie – we'll be sticking together to get the studio set up."
"Alright Mr. Wonka, but I can't think why anyone would want to hurt that poor woman," Mrs. Bucket said quietly, pulling on her new wool coat and slipping the phone in her pocket.
"Me either," Willy said softly.
Mrs. Bucket gathered her purse and left the house to meet Veronica at the front gate. Mr. Bucket spoke up as soon as she was out the door, "Do you think they're in danger going out?"
Willy shook his head and regarded the man solemnly, "No – not with your wife going along. Whoever is after Veronica wants her alone. They're going to be out in public surrounded by too many people."
"Mr. Wonka – what are we getting into here?" asked Grandpa Joe worriedly.
"My intention is just to keep Veronica safe and let the authorities handle the rest," Willy reassured them.
"Bullshit! You're trying to be a knight on charging steed for that young woman," Grandpa George said from rocking chair by the fire. "She's a pretty little thing – but she's going to be trouble for you," he warned.
"Nonsense George!" insisted Grandma Josephine. "I think it's rather romantic. You just keep on doing what you are, boy."
"Pink hearts swirling about that one," laughed Grandma Georgina passing through reality for a moment.
Willy blushed for a moment before gathering himself, "Um..yeah. Charlie, let's boogie – we've got so little to do and so much time to do it in…" He paused.
"Strike that and reverse it," everyone chimed in.
"Hey that's my line!"