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. Alcohol is for adults and to be enjoyed responsibly. I am in no way, shape or form advocating alcohol abuse. Music abuse is another story – anyone can abuse a good song if sung badly. – Stealth Phoenix

Chapter 62

By the time that the black Mercades-Benz pulled up outside her apartment, Veronica could say that she was quite thoroughly fed-up with traveling. Her eyes were dry and sore, her body cramped from sitting in one position for far too long and she felt like she was covered in her own personal grease.

Strangely enough, she wasn't tired. Willy had insisted in stopping for the night (morning?) in Iceland of all places – surprising all of them with a night in the famed Ice Hotel. The hotel provided warm winter clothing and they had amused themselves exploring the hotel and the surrounding area on snowmobiles for a few hours before returning to devour the lavish feast laid out for their consumption.

Veronica had to admit – it was a wonderful memory to wake up that morning (afternoon?) under thick fur blankets feeling rested for the first time since leaving home. Willy introduced her to the joys of jumping from a sub-arctic room into a steaming hot tub to warm up, sipping hot chocolate and giving each other heated glances – even though it was much too cold to think of taking it much further than that. By the time they left, she was feeling positively tropical.

As the plane had landed though, her mood had plummeted south. She felt like she was boxed in, jumbled in a too-small a space with Willy and the Oomapa Loompas. Tired of looking at the same faces for hours on end she sighed, I need to get away…a change of pace…anything at this point!

L.A. and Tupik-Ra collected their bags and rolled them to the staircase leading to the basement and the tunnel running to the factory as the dark car rolled away from the curb outside the main lobby.

"I'll catch up with you later," L.A. promised. Veronica nodded, knowing that they both desperately wanted to get home. The disproportionate sizes aside, they were Oompa Loompa at heart and missed their people.

She could relate – she missed Reggie and Spencer terribly. How are they recovering? She wondered guiltily.

Willy grabbed her bag and led the way into the brass elevator and she trudged along after, playing with the cheap wristwatch she'd picked up at the hotel gift shop, trying to figure out what time it was.

Annoyed at him for insisting on coming up instead of going to the factory to check in with Charlie, she took a deep breath and focused on trying to get herself orientated to when it was.

"Are we four or five hours difference from Iceland?" she asked, spinning the tiny knob to watch the hand whirl forward around.

She felt tense and irritated – as much as she loved Willy, being forced to spend more than a day in tight confines was wearing on her nerves. A hot shower and some time to herself sounded lovely.

"Two actually…but adding in the flight time…daylight savings? Yes? no…" Willy frowned, gesturing in mid-air to an invisible globe and trying to figure out time changes and other such things. He finally shrugged, "I have no idea. It's either late or early – I say 'Nighttime'."

He slumped slightly and she could tell the last couple of days had been wearing severely on his normally chipper outlook on life. The suppressed irritation with her was still present, rising above the initial relief as the hours of confinement wore on and she knew he was stewing. His comments in the car had become increasingly short and waspish. He was spoiling for an argument.

Bring it on.

The elevator stopped and she opened the protective screen and followed Willy down the hall to where he fumbled with his huge ring of keys, flipping through rapidly. The sight depressed Veronica.

That was another thing I'm going to have to deal with, she thought tiredly. Replacing her wallet, cards, keys and everything else she'd kept in her missing messenger bag. The bureaucratic nightmare from her abduction was just beginning.

Willy tried a lock in the door with no success. Seeing that there were at least four identical keys, she sighed and leaning up against the wall – grappling for the last of her patience.

"Maybe I should kick it in?" she offered.

"No," Willy said coldly, giving her a reproving look.

She smiled brightly at him just to get on his nerves – a ploy she had learned from him.

Judging by the cloudy expression, he didn't appreciate his own tactics used against him.

"I really need to use the bathroom," she said helpfully as he tried another without success.

"Patience," he said from between gritted teeth.

She knew how much it annoyed him not to be able to find the right key on first try but she was aching to have a good spat to get her blood flowing.

"You could have just given me the key and gone home," she said sweetly.

"Not until I made sure you got in safely," Willy said in an equally saccharine voice with his bright plastic grin, "After all, you have such a good record for staying out of trouble." His voice may have sounded sweet, but his eyes were growing dark with anger.

All distractions aside now that they were home – the gloves were finally coming off.

Her eyes narrowed, "Yes, well my association with you seems to bring out the worst in some people"

Willy was turning, words designed to hurt ready to launch off his lips when a click and a clatter of chains against wood caused his heart to launch up into his chest in an instant fight or flight response – judging how he felt at the moment it was going to be "fight".

The door to her apartment was jerked open and Spencer stood framed in the doorway in his full operatic presence.

"Do you two have any idea what time it is? How worried we were about you?" he shrieked, making them both jerk back in surprise.

His hair was cropped ultra short – no more than a thick fuzz across his head and for a moment, Veronica thought he looked absurdly like David Beckham. Then he threw himself at her with open arms, blubbering loudly and the moment was over.

He was just Spencer.

She kissed him on the cheek, ignoring Willy's gobsmacked expression at the reception. Spencer's wounds had mostly healed, leaving few fading areas of pink skin and a red irritated line across his scalp where the doctors had to operate to relieve the pressure on his brain. It was only then that she noticed that his leg was still in a cast up to his hip under the dark blue sweatpants he wore.

"Actually no, we don't – why don't you tell us," said Veronica, recovering quickly and pushing past Spencer to enter her apartment.

Reggie was standing near the door, eyes thick with tears and she gladly fell into his arms for a hug – a few tears of her own leaking from her eyes. The only remaining signs of his assault were fading bruises at the corners of his eyes and a slight bump on his nose that gave him a more hawkish appearance.

Their rapid recovery was a reminder of how much she owed Willy and she felt guilty for trying to pick a fight. He was exhausted and emotionally drained and it wasn't fair to needle him like she had been for the past hour.

I'm a bitch.

Meanwhile, Spencer grabbed the stunned Chocolatier's hand and shook it rapidly, "You did it! You swank bastard – you brought our Ronnie home safe! I knew you could do it." Then he too was tackled by a blubbering Spencer with a bear hug.

"Gah!" he cried, wiggling away out of Spencer's embrace. Frantically brushing his coat and making sure nothing was out of place he shot a wide plastic grin at the wide-eyed man. "Don't squeeze the snozzberries out of me – I'm delicate, I bruise easily…"

"What are you two doing in my apartment?" Veronica interrupted.

"We got worried about you. L.A. kept in touch, but when the Grand Wonkavator shot overhead and we never heard anything – we were afraid something else had happened to you," Reggie explained.

"So here we are, 8 o'clock on a Friday night, sitting here worried out of our skulls…you could have called you know," Spencer scolded her.

"I know…I'm sorry. We really did lose track of time, it feels like 4 a.m. or so and I didn't want to wake you," she said, upset with herself all over again.

There was an awkward moment of silence while Reggie and Spencer gave her an expectant look. Looking between the two of them, she blurted, "What? I said I'm sorry – it's not like I had a real good trip, but what do you expect?"

Reggie crossed his arms and mock-glared at her, the amused twinkle in his eyes giving him away, "I expect you to tell me about your engagement you silly bint."

Veronica blushed and shot a glance at Willy whose face slowly broke out into an evil grin. His bad mood had started to melt away as she was cross-examined by the experts. There was no way that anything he could say or do would measure up to the guilt trip these two were laying on her.

Seeing that his presence had largely been forgotten, he took a seat on the couch and watched the show.

"Running off across the bloody globe, not telling anyone about death threats against you, playing at being a martyr – I should call Mum on you," Reggie growled even as Spencer grabbed her hand and gave her ring a close examination.

"Willy – this is beautiful work! Where did you get it done for this ungrateful wretch?" he asked.

"Hand-crafted by the Oompa Loompas," he announced.

Reggie looked at the man levelly, "Who?"

Willy slapped himself in the forehead in amazement, "You don't know about the tribe? Veronica what have you been telling these two?"

"Nothing – which is why I signed the confidentiality agreement, remember?" she snapped, still irritated with him.

Willy was trapped for a moment. His trust in these two – especially after helping him cover his absence and actually getting attacked and hurt just because of their association with him – was absolute, but he was still reluctant to let anyone new into the factory. It was only under the most desperate of circumstances that allowed Veronica inside.

But you said you'd give a tour for that American actor and his family, Bob prodded.

Yeah, but I was thinking about just the chocolate room and the river – not sharing the whole thing.

You love Veronica and want to marry her – that means that these two are going to be family, Bob said reasonably. You don't keep secrets from family.

Willy squirmed uncomfortably, not realizing that his internal conversation was being waged across his face and open to the curious eyes of his onlookers.

"I hate it when I'm right," he muttered to himself before turning a bright smile onto the two waiting men.

"Okay – remember how shut down my factory and had to fire all the present workers?" Willy asked,

"Of course – you weren't exactly Mr. Popular for the next couple of years," Reggie said.

"Well…I kinda did a bit of travelling and found an indigenous tribe in an isolated area who agreed to move into my factory and work for me in exchange for highly prized and coveted cocoa beans," he admitted.

He waited breathlessly for a response, but the men kept staring at him.

"Is this a joke?" Reggie asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No."

"Slave labor?"

"They're not slaves – they're welcome to come and go as they please. It's not my fault that they adopted me as their great Savior," Willy said defensively. He could see Veronica snickering and he crossed his arms and pouted. "In fact they boss me around most of the time."

"They're quite content in the factory and see it as their refuge from the world," Veronica said smoothly. "Spencer, you already met one of them – L.A. is an Oompa Loompa."

"That lovely woman? So why so they stay in the factory?" Spencer asked.

Willy and Veronica exchanged a knowing look – it was nothing that could really be explained, just seen.

"Willy, would you mind letting Reggie and Spencer visit the factory to see for themselves?" she asked hesitantly.

Willy paused and nodded once, "Not now though – tomorrow."

Spencer clapped his hands excitedly, looking like a kid on Christmas morning, "I get to see inside the factory? Holy Cow! Oh – what am I going to wear?"

Reggie rolled his eyes, "Spence. Please!"

Spencer calmed, but his hands still fluttered around like captured birds, "This is marvelous – truly marvelous. To celebrate, we should go to the pub for dinner!"

Veronica's eyes widened, it had been months since she's gone to the pub with Reggie and Spencer and it sounded exactly like what the doctor ordered, "That's a great idea – let's go!"

Willy looked apprehensive, "Are you sure? After everything that's happened…"

Veronica gave him a level stare, "I'm going to be with Reggie and Spencer. Come along if you'd like, or not. We're not joined at the hip you know."

Spencer looked at Willy, breaking out Puppy Eyes™ for good measure, "Come on Willy – it'll be fun. I promise."

How did one man managed to look so pathetic…it's horrible, Willy thought. Damn Puppy Eyes™!

Charlie wasn't expecting him until tomorrow morning and with that Depp person running around being him, it would be easy to slip out for an evening.

What was the worst that could happen?

"Are you sure you don't mind?" he asked in a small voice.

Veronica was amazed – he was actually going to do it! She wasn't sure to be delighted or appalled.

Either way, she still felt filthy.

"If we're heading to the pub, I need to get cleaned up. Gentlemen, excuse me…" she said, turning toward her bedroom and her long awaited shower.

"You are going to need to change," Reggie said as soon as Veronica left the room.

Spencer clapped his hands together in delight, "Makover!"

Reggie looked at his lover in exasperation, "Could you sound any more like a reject from 'Queer Eye for the Straight guy'?"

"Nope!"

Veronica emerged about half an hour later, clean and ready for a little R&R after the long tip. With Reggie and Spencer serving as a buffer, she could maybe finally start to process what had happened to her and figure out what she was feeling.

The two men were clustered in the kitchen around what looked like a barstool from her breakfast bar. Upon hearing the door open they whirled and created a human wall with their bodies to prevent her from seeing what was going on.

Raising a suspicious eyebrow, she crossed her arms and gave them a questioning look, "What are you two doing to Willy?"

Reggie grinned and Spencer gave a flamboyant bow, "Ronnie my dear, may I introduce your escort this evening?"

They stepped to the side to reveal a much transformed Willy Wonka.

Gone were the flamboyant clothes, the pageboy haircut and characteristic top hat.

In their place was a rather weedy-looking pale man in Reggie's Manchester United football jersey with a long sleeved tee shirt underneath and a pair of Spencer's dark blue jeans. His mahogany hair was back in a very short ponytail under some sort of ballcap shading his face. His beautiful violet eyes were hidden behind square horn-rimmed glasses. He looked utterly unremarkable.

Shocked, she could just stare.

Willy was grinning and she latched onto his gleaming white teeth as the remaining familiar feature. For some reason she felt like bursting into tears.

What was wrong with her?

Willy stood and walked over to take her hands. Up close, she could see his vivid eyes and felt reassured.

"Don't worry – it's still me," he said, peering at her.

"I know…it just took me for a moment. I rather like the way you normally look you know," she replied softly. She leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his lips.

"Awww….aren't they sweet," cooed Spencer to Reggie.

Willy slipped an arm around her shoulders and she folded gratefully into his embrace. For all that she was wishing that he'd just go back to the factory, she was glad he was there.

Push and pull.

"Ready to go?" chirped Spencer, grabbing Reggie's hand for balance. For the first time, she noticed that he was walking with a cane and guilt poured down once again.

Willy squeezed her hand reassuringly and through the glasses, she could see sympathy in his eyes.

Veronica let go of Willy's hand to grab a ceramic jar off the cupboard and unscrewed the top to pull out a hand full of Euros, "I am now. I've got first round."

--

The music from the jukebox competed with the noise from the match on the television over the bar. Smoke hung in the air in a light haze and the press of bodies around them provided almost a comforting screen from the rest of the world.

Of course it might be from the two pints she'd already downed and was currently working on her third.

Willy had surprised her again by actually ordering a black and tan, a heavy stout beer layered with a lighter pilsner rather than a fruity non-alcoholic drink she'd been expecting. Only the tension when he held her hand revealed his nervousness being out in public. But even that had dropped away as the night wore on and no one had even looked at him twice.

I guess alcohol is the great equilizer, she thought.

Reggie and Willy were hunched over their glasses, talking intensely with faces pressed close to each other to hear what the other was saying over the noise. Spencer was flirting with the waitress as she deftly slipped through the crowd delivering platters of beer and food.

She played with the remainder of her ploughman's lunch – fresh baked bread and slices of different cheese with a small assortment of vegetables without much appetite. Her mood was taking a slide again and she didn't want to be a bother to anyone. Veronica was content to close her eyes and try to cheer herself up with coming up with things to look forward to. It was a hard battle since there really wasn't anything nice – just court dates, more harassment by the media, and some commission pieces to finish up.

Sighing, she took a sip of her cider and beer.

The music of the jukebox cut out rather suddenly, with shouts of protest rising from those in the back. Instead, new music started from the speakers near the edge of the small stage at the back of the pub. Someone stepped onto the stage with giddy delight and launched into a badly-sung rendition of "Someone to Love" by Queen.

Karaoke night…great.

Willy cringed as a particularly shrill off-key note penetrated his skull, "Dear god, who's strangling the cat?"

"That would be the manager's wife," said Veronica.

"She thinks she's the next British Idol and no one's got the heart to tell her that she's not," Reggie chimed in, pushing aside the remains of his dinner.

The song ended, much to their relief and it was followed by a nice version of "I Walk The Line" by Johnny Cash.

Willy scooted closer to talk to her. She could smell the beer on his breath and he was slurring his words every so often.

It was only his second beer.

What a lightweight.

"What's bothering you?" he asked, peering over the tops of his glasses at her, arm sneaking to drape around her waist.

"I'm not really sure – conflicting feelings really," she said, unusually honest thanks to the imbibed alcohol. "I feel like laughing one moment and crying the next. I'm sorry for trying to take it out on you earlier."

Willy waved off her apology absently, taking a sip of his beer, "Considering what you've been through, Sherman warned me that this might happen and not to take it too personally. He's a pretty smart guy you know."

She rested her head on his shoulder and his hand slowly came up to stroke her hair as they watched the man singing.

"I just hate feeling like I'm ready to jump out of my skin – on the edge and watching all the time. That's not how I want to live my life," she said softly. "I don't feel like I can really trust anyone anymore…except for you of course."

"Of course," he agreed solemnly with a twinkle in his eye.

"It's tough, but things do get better," Willy said. "I was a real mess after shutting down the factory. It took me more than a year to get my head on straight and during that time I wandered the world – India, Asia, America…um…Antartica…still, Sherman finally made me confront what I was running from. It was actually their idea to come back home with me to the factory – I was willing to stay in Loompaland and act as their protector. Funny…in some ways they became mine instead."

"All you can do is your best. No one can demand more," agreed Reggie. "After the kind of few months you've had, it's not surprising that you're a gibbering mess."

"What about you two?" she shot back, "You were just walking down the street minding your own business when the crap gets beaten out of you just because of me. Why risk it? Why not just sever ties and lay low?"

"Because we love you, you silly cow," Spencer said fondly, "You don't abandon the ones you love at the times they need you the most."

Reggie and Veronica's faces went flat and Spencer realized what he'd just implied, "Oh…pants!"

"What? What is it?" Willy asked confused.

"Mum and Dad," Reggie answered shortly. "Our supposedly-loving parents who pushed Ronnie to not prosecute Marcus because they saw the whole incident as embarrassing."

"Who kicked Reggie out of the house after he owned up to being gay," Veronica said, "After he struggled with telling them for almost three years after realizing it himself. Who cut me off after I wouldn't abandon him too."

"My Dad – who abandoned me as a nine year old boy because I wanted to make candy," Willy finished, feeling for the first time that he was not alone in his parental issues.

"My Mum, who refused to let me borrow Grandma's wedding dress for Halloween," Spencer sighed.

Their eyes snapped to Spencer who grinned unrepentantly, "What? Aren't I allowed to play?"

A group of semi-drunk men staggered past their booth. One stopped in surprise, eyes widening as he stared at Willy.

"Oh gobstoppers," Willy whispered.

"Hey! I know you…" the man bellowed, yanking on the arm of his friends and pointing to Willy. "You're famous, you are. I saw you on the telly!"

Willy gestured for the man to keep his voice down, "Yeah, sure you did."

"You're that guy…the American one…Pirate."

Veronica snorted her drink and coughed violently, Spencer thumped her on the back a few times while the man continued,

"I love that movie! Where you're swinging around, waving the sword and making off with that treasure map…"

"I think you've made a mistake," Willy suggested trying to get the man to shut up.

"If you're not him, you should sing a song!" said one of his burly friends, in the drunken logic that insists that tattoos of former girlfriend's names was a great way to get the girl in question back even though she was married with two kids.

Judging by the man's bright red face – he was a few drinks too close to that point now.

Willy protesting, was dragged out of the booth and pushed to the small stage by the crowd, who loved public humiliation as well as the next person and knew a good show when it saw one.

Veronica cringed as Willy was thrust into the spotlight and grinned like a maniac at the crowd, his eyes bright with terror.

"We've got to help him!" she hissed, grabbing Reggie's shirt.

"Too late – he's already up there. They think he's Johnny!"

Willy was blinded by the light, but he could hear the restless anticipation of the crowd. A small bald man stage whispered to him," What are you singing? I'll cue up the music."

Oh well…if he was going down in flames, he might as well go in style.

Willy whispered back his request and shaded his eyes to survey the crowd. He saw Veronica, Reggie and Spencer near the back of the crowd in their booth, watching in horror. Giving them a cheerful wave he grabbed the microphone off the stand, "This is for a lovely lady as the cherry topping to a terrible day – Ronnie, this is for you."

The music started up and his nerves disappeared – he always was a showman at heart.

As he began to sing, the crowd noise died down as everyone listened in astonishment.

Spencer shook his head in disbelief and Reggie felt his jaw drop. Veronica had to clap a hand over her grinning mouth while trying to muffle uncontrollable giggles.

Willy was singing "Aquarius" from Hair.

And he was terrible.

No, not just terrible – horrifying.

It was music genocide.

The sheer cacophony of the song with so many missed notes that he might as well been singing a completely different melody was so astounding in its atonal glory that words escaped for their lives.

She prayed that the suffering would end soon.

Willy was oblivious to the effect. His eyes were closed and he sang with every ounce of emotion he could dredge up.

Finally, the music stopped and there was a round of heart-felt round of applause just because the onslaught was over. Willy, still grinning, handed the microphone over to the bald man and hopped down, moving easily through the crowd now that no one was trying to stop him.

He leaned across the table to collect his beer and held it up, "I would like to propose a toast."

They stood and held up their glasses, Veronica was still struggling to stop her giggles.

"To the family we choose rather than the family we're born with – we've only ourselves to blame," Willy intoned, winking at her.

"Here, here," said the two men at her side before they too drained their glasses.

Veronica wiggled of the booth out to hug Willy. She kissed him once lightly and he returned it with interest. She looked fondly at him, "I do love you – you silly bastard."

"I love you too, but let's scram before someone asks me to sing again."

The crowd was still sedate, a few of the more sensative listeners cringing and weeping into their drinks.

"That's not going to be a problem," Spencer muttered.