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. Massive thanks go out to Yva for her hard work and straight shooting. It was her reminder that Britain isn't on the Euro that tells me that readers are out there and they do care. In either case, in this particular world that is lucky enough to have Willy Wonka – Britain IS on the Euro (beat that retro-con, Hollywood!) – Stealth Phoenix
Chapter 50
The fire was burning low casting long black shadows over Willy's bedroom. It cast ruddy shadows under the lone figure in the bed, limbs cast akimbo in the soft white expanse of the large bed.
Willy sat watching Veronica sleep.
The exhausted circles under her eyes weren't apparent from this angle, but the sharp planes of her shoulder blades under the thin skin were. The warm hue of her skin glowed in the soft dim light, the flames brightening the red tones of her hair – making her look like flames brought to life. The bare length of her back heaved with slow even breaths.
He had woken after a few short hours of sleep as was his usual sleep cycle when something was on his mind. For the first time in years it wasn't something he could go down to the Invention Room and tackle. He hadn't felt anything like this since shortly after meeting a short skinny dark-haired by named Charlie Bucket.
Veronica's distant attitude was puzzling and frustrating him.
Willy was honest enough to admit to himself that his strengths did not lay in the direction of people skills. Just keeping track of what was going on in the confines of his own skull half the time was a daunting enough proposition much less the barely restrained madness that was other people.
He leaned back and crossed his arms, still clad in his pajamas, legs draped over the arm of his chair as he sat sideways across the seat. A glance at the clock told him that it was pretty close to dawn.
Willy reflected on his emotional state. He felt fairly confident what he was experiencing was indeed frustration and puzzlement – as it was similar to what he felt when facing a new creation that just refused to work right. It was only when applying these feelings to living, breathing people that things started to get complicated. His little brush with anger was proof enough of that.
He had to smirk to himself with a shudder of remembered delight – once his guilt over his anger had been discovered, she had been quick to correct the misperception.
Sherman had told him that feelings were things best shared – but how was he supposed to share when he wasn't sure what the heck he was feeling in the first place?
Veronica made a slight noise and turned over. One long leg broke free from the soft white sheets and lay exposed to the light. Willy stared at her exposed limb for a moment, waiting to see if she would awaken. He watched one slender arm make a cautious exploration of the surrounding area, feeling for his presence. An inquisitive noise emerged and heavy hazel eyes crept open.
Willy allowed himself to enjoy the sight of her, tousled and warm from sleep as she slowly came awake and found him sitting in the chair before the fireplace.
"Willy? What's wrong?" Veronica asked thickly, holding the sheet to her chest and sitting upright.
"Nothing's wrong. Just couldn't sleep," he shrugged.
"Want to talk about it?" she coughed, leaning over to grab the glass of water on his nightstand and taking sip.
"If you're of the mind. I got the impression last night you were going to bolt back over to the hospital as soon as you regained consciousness," Willy said, giving her a significant glance.
She shook her head, standing and pulling on her sleep shirt that never seemed to last more than five minutes after climbing into bed with him. She came to sit across from him in the other seat, the firelight making her tired eyes gleam amber, "There's nothing I can do there right now. I get the feeling something's on your mind, what's up?"
He tilted his head at her, "I might ask the same thing. Ever since you mentioned your trip to California, I'm getting the impression that I'm in the dog house for some reason."
Willy watched as her expression shuttered, Ah-ha.
"Nothing. I'm not upset with you," she said.
Liar, hissed Bob.
Where have you been? Willy asked his sub-conscious surprised at the reappearance.
I've been here – but you've been doing so well up to this point. Bob explained helpfully. You need my help figuring out what's going on in that pretty little head of hers.
"So, you're saying that you are not upset with me. Hmmm… If you're not upset with me, who are you upset at?" Willy asked. He could feel Bob's predatory interest lurking behind his eyes.
She crossed her legs and arms, shrinking in on herself as he watched. Everything in her manner was screaming, DROP IT.
"We promised each other that we'd talk about what was bothering us, Veronica," he said gently.
Veronica realized what she had done and sighed in frustration, running a nervous hand through her wild locks.
"Fine. I'm angry at myself – have been since I asked you to come to California with me. It was wrong of me and I apologize."
That's not all, Bob mentioned. There's something else there. Keep prodding.
"So, you're mad at yourself because you asked me, your boyfriend, to come with you to California while you testified in court against a man who has harassed, humiliated and threatened you?" Willy asked in a neutral voice.
There was a fluttering in the pit of his stomach – his irritation felt like it was growing.
What was she taking him for? He asked himself in disbelief. Did she seriously think he was ditching her when trouble brewed?
Put yourself in her shoes, Bob advised. You've given her a job, money, a place to live and you're her lover. What was she doing before all of this? How was she managing to survive?
Veronica was fidgeting, plucking at her growing hangnails in agitation, "Yes…No… You know when you put it that way, things don't sound so bad. But that's not…" she fell silent, sighing heavily in irritation.
She was scraping by, trying to live her life on her own terms, trying not to be a burden on Reggie or Spencer. She's cut off from her parents, blacklisted from her profession by a vindictive former employer, Bob said. In a word, independent.
"Are you feeling guilty because you asked me to come with you?" Willy asked, rapidly thinking on what Bob was bringing up.
"Yes," Veronica whispered. She dropped her hands to rest on the armrest and gazed back at him with sad eyes. "You've given me so much, and I've returned with nothing but more trouble. I should be able to do this without dragging you away from here like a child with her security blanket."
"Do you really think that our relationship is that one-sided?" he asked with mild sarcasm. "Can you honestly believe that I'm getting nothing but a physical release and some feel-good altruism out of being with you?"
"As a matter of fact – that is what I think," she responded coolly, anger sparking in her eyes. "You've been caged up in here for years and I'm the first unmarried woman to cross your path. I don't think you realize how ridiculously good-looking you are and how many attractive women who would love to be with you…women who are much better for you than I am.
His irritation evaporated like water off a hot skillet as he realized what she was saying.
"Good grief," Willy shook his head in disbelief. He swung his legs to sit facing her and leaned forward, pinning her with his eyes.
"I may come off as a feather-head, but I'm not as bird-brained as that. Do you know the reason why I never bothered pursuing anyone else? Because I was looking for someone a little deeper. Someone who looked beyond my fame and fortune to see the real me – the man sitting in front of you."
"I've been waiting all these years for you Veronica."
Willy saw the tears starting to form in her eyes, the denial she clung to so desperately.
"I want someone who shares my interest. Someone who is bright enough to contribute her own ideas rather than a knock-off of one of mine and the determination to see them through. I wanted someone who was more interested in making the world a better place rather than what material goods she could buy."
He leaned across to pull her into his lap as the tears streamed from her eyes and he met that bright gaze with his own – sincerity pouring out with every word.
"I love you because you are the bravest woman I've ever met. You face these things that obviously terrify you beyond the means for rational thought and still press forward because it's the right thing to do. You make me face my own failings and strive to be a better person."
He wiped the tears from Veronica's face with a gentle thumb.
"I love you, Veronica Carmichael, because even after everything that Victor has done to you, the only thing you're interested in is justice – not retribution. You have a kind, wonderful soul that I am perpetually thankful to ever have met."
Willy kissed her lightly on the lips, "And you really think the only reason I'm interested in you is as a charity case?"
--
Veronica was shaken with the magnitude of his words and the intensity of the conflict raging inside her. Willy was pouring his heart out to her and she felt shame for having underestimated the depth of this wonderful man.
"Well, I feel about three inches tall," she said softly, reaching up to stroke her cheek and smiling at the rough texture of the stubble across his jaw. Yet another facet that he shared with her alone – no one else would see Willy Wonka disheveled like this.
"I'm sorry Willy – I don't mean to minimize you like this. I'm just struggling with my belief that a woman needs to be able to stand on her own and face her own trials without hiding behind someone – the whole 'Snow White' or 'Cinderella' complex," she admitted, hoping he could understand what she was talking about.
God it was difficult to get ideas and feelings outside her own head at times.
He chuckled and caught her hand, "I, my dear," placing a kiss in the palm before returning it to her lap. "Am no Prince Charming – you couldn't pay me enough to wear the tights. I'm not even going to mention the puffy-sleeved doublets, although the hair is about right…"
He looked at her, eyes serious and intent, "I know what you mean. I also respect you and your fight enough to take a step back and let you fight your own battles. However, I hope you will let me be by your side to support you when you ask for help."
"Can you promise to actually wait for me to ask, rather than jumping headlong into the fray?" Veronica asked, studying his bright violet eyes for any evasion. "I don't want you to make a bigger target out of yourself than necessary because you didn't look before leaping."
Willy opened his mouth to respond, but hesitated for a moment, "How about this instead, as long as your immediate life or limb is not in danger – I promise to wait for you to ask before offering aid. There – that should fit the bill. It also nicely encompasses my personal promise to always have your back."
She smiled at him, feeling a bit of her burden slip from her shoulders, "Alright. I appreciate what you've done for Reggie and Spencer – although I don't think we should tell them about the Wonkavite. The fewer people who know about that stuff, the better."
She hugged him, letting her smile slip slightly as she remembered Cavenaugh's words.
"The yanks left me with the impression that your old friend Brahm has more connections under the table than over. I'm wondering if this attack may have originated with him – watch your back…"
Veronica was more determined than ever to protect those she loved.
"Willy. I think I would feel better if you would stay behind to keep an eye on the boys while I was gone," she said slowly. "Since we don't know who attacked them or if they'll strike again…"
He nodded, "Alright. It's just a day or two right? Not really enough time to get into serious trouble."
She cuddled close, breathing in his scent and making sure her face was concealed in his hair and her body remained loose and relaxed. He could not know about the danger – for all their sakes.
"Just a few days. I'll head out Sunday night and come back on Thursday morning," Veronica said lightly once she was sure her expression was under control. "I'm booking flights on the Concord – I've always wanted to arrive four hours before I left."
Dawn was breaking – the skylight over their heads was starting to gleam with rich color. Willy hugged her close and whispered, "Thank you for talking to me. I was having a hard time coming to terms with being annoyed for leaving me in the dark. I have to wonder if I'll ever get the hang of this relationship thing."
Guilt surged again and Veronica ruthlessly squashed it – it was for his own good.
She nodded, "Maybe that's what you should work on next – telepathy candy. You can read the mind of anyone else eating the candy in a 3 meter radius. Just think of what it can do for marital counseling."
"Or what it would do for the Divorce Industry," He mentioned. Her off-hand comment had sparked an idea of his own.
Save it for later, Bob purred, You've got other thing to take care of right now…
Willy leaned in to collect a kiss, this one longer and deeper than any since she awoke; his libido had just realized that a beautiful scantily clad woman was sitting in his lap and that this situation needed to be explored further.
His hand trailed up the long smooth length of her legs as he grinned up at her, "I'm glad I've managed to convince you of my sincerity. I didn't even get a chance to laud your many other qualities that I've fallen in love with."
Playfully running her fingers through his thick hair, she softly scratched at his scalp making his eyes roll back in pleasure, "Oh really? What might those be?"
He kissed her deeply, running his hand up the length of her throat to cup her head. When Willy finally broke away, she was breathless and heavy-lidded with pleasure.
"Let me show you…"
--
Victor hung up the phone as gently as he could. He leaned forward on against the counter of his Malibu condominium head sunk between his shoulders – taking slow deep breaths.
Fuck it.
He grabbed the phone and threw it across the room to slam into the stainless steel refrigerator and shattering into little pieces.
"Son of a bitch!" he screamed to the world at large. His voice echoed off the spacious room hollowly.
They were closing in on him. His fucking spineless lawyer brother-in-law was about as useless as a shit-flavored lollipop and word was leaking out that he was about to be indicted.
Miss O had just informed him that any future appearances on her popular daytime talk show were cancelled.
Another bridge burned.
He had two days before he was commanded to appear in court to face the charges.
Racketeering, Blackmail…the usual suspects of good business practices.
At least his buddies in the old neighborhood had come through for him. He'd gotten the word about the attack on those two queers of Veronica's and he took a small amount of pleasure from that. But it faded as he learned that she was coming out to testify against him in grand jury.
Great, she was finally coming to play in his neighborhood and he was currently unable to do anything about it.
The frustration made him kick the breakfast bar stool across the room and punch the glass door of one of the upper cabinets. As glass tinkled down, he stared at his bloodied fist in surprise, the sudden pain bringing him back to reason.
Okay – enough of that shit, put your brain in gear and quit bitching.
Ignoring the mess since his maid Rosalinda would be in tomorrow morning, he padded into the sleek modern bathroom to pull out the tweezers, hydrogen peroxide, medical supplies and the bandages. Sitting on the toilet, he went to work to start the tedious process of patching himself up. The pain did a marvelous job of focusing his mind.
Okay, so the Cops were closing in. Ronnie the bitch was the main testimony – the most vocal. So remove her from the equation and the rest of the case should crumble. Folks had learned their lesson about fucking with me, Victor thought.
Only problem was, cooperation from his friends took a little cash that he didn't have at the moment. Victor grimaced. He had maxed out his cards, leveraged the condo and had outstanding debts on all the catering businesses using one to pay off the other resulting in a huge mess that his accountant, Herb was also being paid to keep under the rug. Christ – the things I have to do….
Victor's stomach turned as he yanked a particularly large chunk of glass out from in between his knuckles. Speaking of stomach turning, he'd caught flipped through some of the magazines in Herbie's office the other day and caught site of the advertisements for Carmichael Enterprises hand-crafted simulation jewelry. Bad enough she sucks up to Wonka to make Berry Blings, but she was making cash free and clear with her own business with the fake gems as well.
If I can't have Wonka, then she won't either, he vowed, clenching his hand to ensure no more shards were present before dousing the whole thing with peroxide. He whimpered while the whole mess bubbled and frothed. I don't care if I do the time, I'll make sure the bitch goes down with me.
He heard the phone ring in the other room, but ignored it for the moment, blotting carefully at the wound before smearing it with Neosporin before bandaging his hand with a roll of gauze. He chucked the towel in the trashcan and took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair in frustration.
"I could always head back to the old neighborhood," Victor said to himself softly. Papa Giadino always liked his mini-calzones.
He snorted, not a chance in hell. No way was he running back home to Mama with his tail tucked in between his legs.
Sighing, he stood and went to retrieve the handset from his bedroom to see who the hell was harassing him now. If it was the damn D.A.'s office again….Victor hit the button to listen to the message.
"Mr. Brahm? This is Raul Slinkard with Slugworth Candies. We hear that you're going through a difficult time and wish to offer our support as a result of this unfortunate run in with Veronica Carmichael of Carmichael and Wonka.
If you choose to allow us to be your allies yourself against the erroneous charges and provide your own input against Willy Wonka and Veronica Carmichael, I believe we may come to a mutually satisfying resolution of this issue. Perhaps we may even consider a similar working relationship depending on any ideas you with to propose. I look forward to hearing back from you."
Victor began to grin. If wolverines would have had human expressions, they would have recognized their kindred in Victor
Looks like things were looking up.