Jean tried desperately to still her heart as it raced a mile a minute. She could hardly hear the creak of the office door as she opened it, as the roaring in her ears was so loud. Quiet as a church mouse, she slipped into the office. She felt herself tense up as unpleasant memories of the office came to mind. However, she forced herself to remember the happy memories of the tour and the Wonkavator. "You can just set the mail down on the filing cabinet, Mr. Wilkinson, I'll get to them after I finish finalizing the budget. Also, I won't have the time to look at that busted pipe until tomorrow, just tell the Oompa Loompas to redirect the syrup flow to the next pipe over. If it's too hard, they can leave it and I'll fix it later." Mr. Wonka hadn't looked up from his work when Jean walked in. He had several papers spread out on his desk, and an empty cup of coffee long abandoned sitting close by. He didn't have his purple coat on, or his vest. Instead, he was adorned in khaki pants and a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up so he wouldn't stain the cuffs with ink. Jean had to admit he still looked very dashing. However, he also looked very busy and swamped with work. She could come back later, when she had time to put her thoughts together. She put the papers in the appointed place, and was halfway out the door, when Mr. Wonka asked, "How is Jean doing?"

Jean froze. What should she say? He still thought that she was Mr. Wilkinson. His pen had stopped scratching, and it was unnervingly silent. Finally, she decided on a simple, "Good."

From his desk, he simply nodded and started working again. Jean breathed a sigh of relief as it seemed like he hadn't noticed it was her. She thought that she had gotten off scot-free, but then Mr. Wonka gasped. He stood up so fast that his chair toppled over and a can of pens and pencils was accidentally knocked to the floor. He stood and faced her, but didn't say anything. To avoid meeting his gaze, she stooped down and started picking up the writing utensils as they rolled away. She felt her face burn as she chased a runaway pencil, this was not at all how she had hoped things would go. When the both of them had collected everything, Jean handed off everything she had picked up and Mr. Wonka put them in the empty can they had previously been in. Then it was awkwardly quiet as neither of them spoke. Jean berated herself for not being able to find something to say. She had come in with the intent to reconcile with him, but instead interrupted him when he was busy and made a fool of herself. She tried to think of an accuse for herself, but her mind drew a blank. Mr. Wonka was the first to break the silence. "Jea-I mean, Ms. Bucket. I thought that you were still in the hospital."

"I am. I mean, I'm here, but I've been getting a lot better, so they're letting me stretch my legs a little bit."

"Oh, that's good."

"Yes, it is." Awkward silence descended once again. Jean realized that they were both holding the pencil jar and quickly let go. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you. I'll just go."

"No! I mean, um … did you need something?"

"I just … um, well, my memory's been getting a lot better, and I'm remembering things more. I wanted to say sorry for getting mad at you before remembering all of the nice things that you did. Charlie looks up to you so much, and I believe he still thinks that he's dreaming."

"No, I'm sorry for putting you and your brother through that, but I needed to test your brother, to see if he was the right one. Your brother is the most wonderful little boy. He's very kind, especially to all of the Oompa Loompas, and he's very bright. He learns faster than I can make lessons for him. … He's just like his sister." He added tentatively at the end.

Jean tried to think of something to say back, but her brain had come to a full stop. The only thing she could think of was what Mr. Wilkinson had told her before she came in. "I do have a question about Charlie for you, if you're not to busy, that is."

"Not at all. I'll always be happy to make time for you, Ms. Bucket."

"Thank you, and you can call me Jean, if you like."

"Alright, Jean." The butterflies in her stomach must have been rehearsing a ballet as her name rolled off of his tongue. "Then I hope you use my first name as well. It's William."

"Not Willy?"

He scrunched up his nose. "No. William Wonka just didn't seem to work as well as Willy Wonka for a chocolate bar."

She giggled. "Alright, William-pa." She said, throwing her newfound 'Loompa-ish' knowledge in to help show that she wanted to be friends with him again. Jean expected him to be surprised that she had learned some of the Oompa Loompa language. She expected him to laugh and congratulate her, maybe correct her pronunciation. At the very least he seemed surprised. Horribly surprised. His face turned the same red shade as a tomato, and he almost dropped the pencil tin again. He set it down, but his hands were shaking dreadfully. "I'm sorry, did I say it wrong?"

"No! No! You said it right. On the spot. I was just wondering where you learned it." It seemed like he was trying and failing to act suave and unconcerned, but it was plain to see that he was painfully rattled.

"The Oompa Loompas taught it to me. It was hard to communicate with them when I was sick because of the language barrier, so I asked them to teach me some of their language. They said I should use it to address you to show that I wanted to be your friend."

"Oh, that's what they told you it means."

"What's its actual meaning?"

"Nothing! Don't worry about it. It's fine." Jean was about to press the subject, when peals of laughter started emanating from behind one of the doors in the office. Mr. Wonka opened it to reveal a storage closet with large stacks of bundled papers, and a group of hysterical Oompa Loompas. "Get out of there! Don't you have work to do?!" Whatever they had tricked Jean into saying must have been outrageous, because they couldn't calm themselves down as they were shooed out of the office by an annoyed Mr. Wonka. All the while, they were chanting, 'William-pa cha Jean-pa! William-pa cha Jean-pa!' When he had finally managed to herd them out of the door, he sighed exasperatedly and pinched the bridge of his nose. "They're going to go and tell everyone and I'm never going to hear the end of it."

"I'm sorry, for whatever I said. I didn't mean to offend."

"Oh, no, Jean. There's not a spark of decency between them. Your turn of phrase was actually quite complimentary." Jean sighed in relief. She didn't want to have offended him right after making amends. The clock on the wall struck the hour and let out two hardy rings. The doctor had let her out of the hospital ward at three and said she needed to return at four. How on earth was it two o'clock? She looked at the clock on the wall and saw that it was in fact displaying four o'clock. She wondered why it only rung twice, when she realized that half a clock would only ring half the amount of times it should. But then, should it not also run half as fast? "Is everything alright, Jean?"

"What? Oh, yes. I just realized the time. I should be getting back." She was just about to excuse herself when she realized that she only knew how to get back to the hospital from the Chocolate Room, and that she had not been paying attention to where they were going when Mr. Wilkinson had shown her to the office. "Which way is the hospital?"

"Allow me to show you, milady." He bowed and grabbed his hat from the bust and cane from where it was propped against the desk.

"I don't mean to take you away from your work. You can just point me in the right direction."

"Nonsense. I won't have you stumbling about when you don't know your way around yet, and while you're still healing from a concussion that I gave you."

He offered her his arm and she gratefully took it. He walked at a leisurely pace for her, and she enjoyed his company, even if they weren't talking. She was glad that they had made up and were friends again, but she still had several questions that she needed answered desperately. "Mr. Wo- William, you didn't answer my question from earlier."

His face became red again. "Don't worry about it. The Oompa Loompas just enjoy a good prank."

"Although I am curious about that, I was talking about something I wanted to ask you about Charlie."

"Alright. He's behaving wonderfully, just as I'm sure he always has if that's what you're wondering about."

"No, that's not what I'm wondering about, but I suppose that that's part of the puzzle I'm trying to put together. I was just thinking about how well behaved and nice Charlie is compared to the other four kids that had found golden tickets. Just imagine what might have happened to your factory if a fifth bratty child had found a ticket instead of Charlie. You couldn't have possibly left the whole of your life's work completely up to chance, just giving it away to some child you didn't even know."

"I know Charlie very well." He said, as if he were offended. "I've gotten to know all about him this past week in his lessons."

"But you didn't know him before that."

"That was the reason for the test. I do believe that the Everlasting Gobstopper was a good little test. Mr. Wilkinson did an excellent job portraying Mr. Slugworth, don't you think? Did you know he went to acting school before coming to work for me? Both he and his brother are both supe-"

"That's all very interesting, but that doesn't answer my question, William."

William seemed to try and think of some other way to steer the conversation away from an answer, it seemed like he came up with one, then looked at Jean. She did her best to seem disappointed in him for not answering her. He thought about it again, before answering. "Do you remember the first time we met, Jean?"

She eyed him warily. Was this another ploy to try and get off topic? He seemed like he was being genuine and not trying to mislead her. She decided to give in to his string of conversation. "Of course. It was just the other day when I came to the factory with Charlie after he found a golden ticket."

"We forget old stories, but those stories remain the same.'" He said, quoting something.

"We met before?"

"Yes. Many times. In fact, just briefly the day before you came to the factory."

Jean put a weary hand to her head, "That concussion must not be healing as well as I thought it was."

He let out a peal of laughter, and a happy feeling blossomed in the pit of her stomach. "Not to worry, Jean. I would have been surprised if you had said that you remember, but I remember it quite clearly. It was horribly cold out, snow whipping around in a fury. I was going to visit Bill in the shop because Mr. Wilkinson suggested that I needed a break. I had visited the shop before, but this time when I came in, you were standing behind the counter. Bill was showing you how to work the till. If I remember correctly, you were having quite some trouble with it. Anyways, I almost turned around and walked back out of the shop when I saw another person there. I didn't want to be seen, but you spotted me before I had a chance to escape. You greeted me like I was any regular customer and tried to ask if I needed help, but Bill came to my rescue and told you that I was a candy supplier. That was the first time I met you. At least once a month I make a trip to Bill's shop to stretch my legs and get some fresh air. You were almost always there, a smile on your face, helping a customer. I usually came in the afternoon, so I saw Charlie a good amount as well. He was usually sitting outside on the curb waiting for your shift to end so you could walk home together, if I am correct."

Jean thought about that. If Bill had been showing her how to work the cash register the first time he came in, then it would have been a few years ago when she had just started working there. It was plausible, she supposed. She could hardly remember what she was doing a month ago, let alone years prior, and if it was cold out, his face was probably hidden by a scarf and hat. On all the other times, if it was late in the evening, she probably wouldn't have taken too much notice of him if she thought that he was one of Bill's buisness consultants. He was getting off topic of her question, but this new information intrigued her, and she hoped that it would eventually come back around. "And you said that you were there the day Charlie found his ticket?"

"Yes, indeed. Like the rest of the world, I had been eagerly watching the contest unfold. I thought August was hoggish, Veruca was rotten, Violet was egotistic, and Mike was aggravating. What everyone didn't know is that I sent out only four golden tickets. I kept one in reserve, just in case, and it's a good thing I did too. When I saw how horrid the four children were who had found the tickets, I took my last Chocolate bar with a ticket to Bill. He had once told me that all of the children in the town came to his store after school, and that he knew them all very well. I went in that day, you were working as usual, Charlie was sitting at the counter, and a few other children were milling about. I went into the back of the storeroom with Bill. I handed him the chocolate bar and he stuck it in his pocket as I told him to give it to the child he thought deserved it the most. At the time, I hadn't told him that the grand prize would be the entire factory. I was quite surprised when he told me that the perfect candidate had already been in the store when I came in. So we both went to the front of the store. I didn't want to draw attention to myself, so I took a quick glance around the room at everyone it could possibly be, before leaving the store and waiting around the corner to see who it would be. A minute had hardly gone by before you and Charlie came racing out of the store. Does that answer your question?"

Jean listened intently. She did remember that a man in a large coat and scarf had come in and left just before Charlie had bought the candy bar. And come to think of it, Jean was originally going to take a Wonka Bar from off of the shelf before Bill had pulled one out of his pocket and gave her some ridiculous reason for carrying it around with him. She thought that he seemed a little suspicious when he had given her the candy, she had just chalked it up to him being his strange self. He had been in on it the whole time! Out of the hundreds of kids who came to the store everyday, he had chosen her brother as the most worthy of going to see his idol. She would have to remember to give Bill a hardy punch for not telling her that he personally knew Mr. Wonka this whole time, then give him a humongous hug for choosing her little brother. "Partway. How could you know that Charlie would win.?

He shook his head. "I couldn't have."

"But you did." Jean retaliated. "You seemed very calm when all of the children fell into potentially dangerous situations. If you knew what was going to happen before hand, you could make sure that everything would be alright. Moreover, after Violet turned into a blueberry, I heard the Oompa Loompas sing a song about what happened to her. It was in English, not the language they normally talk in, so they must have known what would happen before she came so they could practice. I also heard them sing a different version for each child except for Charlie while I was sitting in the chocolate room just now. I also think that's why you didn't want them singing for everybody during the tour."

Jean's revelation startled William so much that he actually almost tripped over himself as they walked. "You're much too intuitive for your own good, Jean."

She smiled. "I would consider that a compliment."

He sighed. "Yes, you are quite right, again. I didn't want to expressly make any child lose, but I did offer them a temptation I knew they couldn't pass up. Each one of them took the bait I had set for them, even you and Charlie."

Jean's eyes went wide. Had he expected them to do something horrible? "Me and Charlie? But the Oompa Loompas didn't have a song ready for us."

William nodded. "Charlie didn't receive his ticket until the day before the tour. They didn't have enough time to put one together. However, you did take a sip of the fizzy lifting drinks and bump into the ceiling."

Jean shook her head. "While we each did take a small sip of the drinks, we didn't run into the ceiling." William looked at her questioningly, so she elaborated. "I was able to grab a hold of the bars on the walls. I used them to shimmy over to some shelves and climb down them to the ground. That's how I got this cut on my hand." She showed her wound for emphasis. Although it had been given ample time to heal, it was deep and still prominent. She supposed that it would leave a nasty scar that wouldn't ever heal entirely.

Mr. Wonka stopped walking and took her palm in both of his hands. He slowly drew his thumb across it, and tingles shot up through her hand all the way down her spine. He chuckled, and a warm glow spread all the way through her body. "Your cleverness never ceases to amaze. Although, I wish you had stuck to the plan, then your delicate hand would not have such an ugly scar marring it." Jean was about to make a witty retort about not knowing that everything had been planned from the start, when William bowed slightly and laid a gentle kiss on the disfiguring wound. It was like someone had punched her in the gut. It was hard to breath as he straightened himself, still holding her hand. The spot where his lips had been felt like a small fire had ignited. She tried to think of something to say, but her brain was so fuddled that nothing came to mind. It seemed like he was at a loss for words as well. He opened his mouth several times, but stopped himself before he ever said something. It took a few minutes, but he was finally able to articulate what he wanted to say. "Jean. I'm very glad that you came with your brother. I feel like the day would have been quite tiresome and dreary if Charlie had asked someone else to accompany him."

"Hardly. I think it would be impossible to have a boring day with you around, William."

"On the contrary, before you and Charlie came, days just sort of seemed to string together. Now that you're here, it always seems as if there is something to look forward to."

"You mean with your lessons with Charlie?"

"Yes, but also you." He took a step forward, but Jean didn't step back.

"I've been in the hospital this whole time. I'm sure with how busy you must be trying to run a candy empire that you've hardly had time to think of me."

"You sell yourself short. I haven't had time to visit you, true, but I've had Mr. Wilkinson ask about how you were recovering. Charlie was also telling me about how you were doing. I was terrified when you collapsed in the Wonkavator. I didn't know what was wrong. At the time, I hoped that you just had a paralyzing fear of freights. When we couldn't get you to wake up from your faint, I was so frightened. What if you didn't wake up again? I felt very guilty because I wasn't thinking about how it must be for Charlie to see his older sister like this, but rather myself. Here was this girl I hardly knew, who I had introduced myself to just earlier that day, and I felt so helpless. I stayed there, waiting for you to wake up. Mr. Wilkinson was getting mad because I had lots of paperwork that I needed to get done, and Charlie was slightly alarmed that I wasn't properly taking care of myself. I couldn't think of it like they were. Mr. Wilkinson didn't know you, and Charlie was trying so hard to be strong. All I could think of was this resilient woman who all day had kept such a strong presence for her brother, and who had endured having her spirit broken just so I could test Charlie, was laying defenseless because I had been careless. … What I'm trying to say, is that I'm glad beyond words that you are better. That I hope you forgive me for being impish and rude and bothersome. And that I can't wait to see you everyday. Do you know what Charlie wrote for you in his letter?"

Jean was blushing so much she thought she must be giving herself a fever. She snapped herself out of her trance to answer William's question. "No." Truth be told, in the day's commotion, she had almost forgotten her brother's letter. "He showed me what he requested for everyone except for me."

He smirked and pulled the piece of paper from his pocket. "'And for my sister Jean, who smiles at me and makes me laugh, even when she is sad, I want something that will make her smile. Not a fake smile like she gives to the candy store customers, but something that will make her smile so big you can see all of her teeth, and laugh so hard she cries. Girls are strange, so I don't know what her surprise should be, but I know that if you make it, Mr. Wonka, it will be amazing.'" He then put the paper back in his pocket. "I hope that while you stay here, you find something that will make you happy. I hope that I mak- the things that I create make you happy. I may not always know how to make you smile, but I hope I never make you sad."

While he had been talking, Jean broke into a big smile, not only at her brother's thoughtfulness, but also at William's earnestness. She loved it here at the factory, … and she loved him quite a bit too. While it would always make her a little sad to not know if he loved her back, it would always make her happy just to see him. "William. I love it here. Every time I see something new that you've invented, I can't help but feel happy. Just so long as you don't pull another Everlasting Gobstopper stunt, I will alwa-"

"William-pa cha Jean-pa! William-pa cha Jean-pa!" A band of Oompa Loompas peeked out from behind a corner and started chanting at them again. William shot them the dirtiest look Jean had ever seen. They turned down the hall and left them alone, but she could still clearly hear them cackling as they walked away.

"You would think with everything they have to get done during the day, they wouldn't be able to find time for mischief. I know I don't have time enough for it."

Jean giggled. He was just like them, measuring fun and work in equal measure. "I'd say that you hardly have room to talk." He pouted, but didn't make an attempt to contradict her. "Why do they keep chanting that? What does it mean?"

"I told you, it's nothing."

"It's obviously something. They won't leave us alone about it, and it has you peculiarly flustered."

"No, it does not!" Jean looked at him incredulously as he stomped his foot and turned bright red. ""Besides," he waved his hand as if he were brushing the topic away. "Where is fancy bred? In the heart or in the head?"

She crossed her arms and took on a confidant stance. "In neither with people who are left with questions unanswered." She tried to remember what Mr. Wilkinson had told her about not letting him get off topic. She hoped that he would answer her question. It would drive her nuts until she knew what it meant.

William looked at her, probably judging if she was being serious. Jean straightened her spine and tried to look imposing. Eventually, William sighed. "It's used as a term of endearment."

"Yes, between friends." Jean cocked her head to the side in confusion. The Oompa Loompas had already told her that.

"No, no, no." He shook his head and was silent as he tried to find the right words to explain. "It's usually reserved for people who are very close."

"For family members, then?"

"Not exactly." It was like pulling teeth to get him to tell her, and Jean considered letting the matter rest and questioning the Oompa Loompas about it later, when William suddenly shouted out very loudly. "IT IS USUALLY RESERVED FOR LOVERS."

The hall was quiet as his words echoed down the corridor. Now they were the same shade of ripe tomatoes as the words sunk in. Jean had just effectively, and quite unintentionally, confessed her love to WiIlliam. "I'm sorry, William. I mean, uh, I didn't know what it meant. I thought it only meant friend... NOT THAT I DON'T THINK HIGHLY OF YOU …. or anything less of you .. I mean-"

"No, no. It's fine. Like I said, it was quite complimentary. I just acted so aversely when you said it because it wasn't expected, not that it wasn't accepted... by that I mean... well..." They were both floundering now, rambling until they dissolved into silence. What should she say? It wasn't untrue that she held feelings for him, but they had really practically only just met. And she couldn't expect him to reciprocate her feelings. He was grand and whimsical and amazing and she was ….. Jean Bucket. Plain Jean Bucket. Perhaps she should just apologize and insist that she could find her way back to the hospital on her own. Yes, that sounded like a good plan. She made to leave, but realized that William had yet to let go of her hand this entire time. "Jean." She looked up at William as he spoke. "You said that you did like it here at the factory, correct?"

"Yes. I think the world of it."

"And you think that you'll be happy here?"

"Of course."

"Then know that I consider myself quite lucky to see you everyday."

Jean shook her head. "Hardly. Compared to all the fantastic inventions you have here, I'm ordinary."

"Nonsense! Jean, I would consider it a privilege to see you everyday, and an honor of the highest degree to dare to speak to you for but a moment."

Jean didn't know what to say. What should she say? What could she say? At that moment, Mr. Wilkinson and Charlie rounded the corner. "Ah, Mr. Wonka, there you are. Have you had a chance to answer your mail yet?"

"No. I was just taking Jean back to the hospital. I will get right on it after I see her safely there, and after Charlie and I have his lesson for the day." Charlie gave them both a sly look before motioning for William to bend down so he could whisper something to him. He obliged and leaned down to Charlie's height. He listen for a second before his face turned bright strawberry red. "No! Certainly not!"

Charlie seemed mad at his response and crossed his arms. "So you're saying that it would be awful?"

"No. It would be wonderful quite thrilling I should think. It's just-" William noticed that Charlie's pout had turning into a smirk and was trying his best not to laugh. "You're just as bad as the Oompa Loompas. Why don't you go down to the Inventing Room and get ready for your lesson. Perhaps that will keep you out of trouble."

Giggling, Charlie did as he was told and left the group alone. Mr. Wilkinson bowed. "I will leave you to escort Ms. Bucket to the hospital. However, I do agree with Charlie." He stood up straight and casually called over his shoulder as he walked away. "The sooner you kiss Ms. Bucket the better." He then left the two of them alone as well.

Jean was completely flustered. This is not how she expected things to end up when she went to go apologize to William. "Jean." She looked over and saw that William was eerily calm for just being called out like that. "Please do forgive them, everyone around here is always messing around, never thinking of how the other person might feel when they sat something like that. I hope that you know that I will always treat you like a lady."

She couldn't quite tell if he was talking about treating her nice in a friendly way or something more. "I would never expect anything different from you, and know that I will always do the same, no matter what."

Jean tried to think of what she wanted to do next. She wanted him to kiss her, and she wanted to kiss him, but she didn't have the courage to just stride up to him and give him a peck. William seemed to take several deep breaths before chuckling. He seemed like he was trying to be nonchalant, but his hands were shaking horribly. "You know, I think that I distinctly remember Charlie saying something along the same lines on the day just before you came to the factory." Jean was stunned for a moment, before remembering:

'Just then, one of the candy suppliers for the shop walked in. Jean thought his large coat and scarf that covered him from head to toe were a little extreme for the fall weather, but paid little mind to it as Bill went over to him and the two went into the back of the shop. "You know, Jean, mum doesn't like lying."

"I suppose it's a good thing I don't lie then." Jean responded, raising a questioning eyebrow to her brother's strange string of conversation.

"Yes you did. You just said you don't know what to think of Mr. Wonka. Last night you said you thought he was handsome."

"No I did not!" Jean felt her face getting red. "I said I imagine that he would be handsome, which is a totally different thing." With all of the stories Grandpa Joe had been telling them, she may have started to develop a little crush on the famous chocolatier, dreaming and putting together an image of what she thought he looked like.

"Jean and Mr. Wonka sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-"

"Charlie!" Jean reached over the counter and gave her brother a shove.

"What's all this ruckus about?" Bill came out from the back with his visitor. The stranger seemed to survey the scene for a bit, before leaving the store. '

"Oh my goodness, he did!" Jean buried her face in her hands in embarrassment. That meant that William had know that she had a crush on him from the very beginning! "oh..."

"Jean." William gently took her hands away from her face. "Are you embarrassed?"

"Of course!"

Excruciatingly slowly, to the point that it seemed like time would come to a stand still, William gave her a soft, quick, kiss. It was so short, but her head and heart were reeling. They stared at each other a moment, neither knowing what to say. From around the corner, high pitched voices started chanting louder than ever. "William-pa cha Jean-pa! William-pa cha Jean-pa! William-pa cha Jean-pa!"

"Don't you have work to do!? The last time I checked, we still had a few shipments that needed to be sent off before the day is out. Go on! I know you have things that need to get done!" He shouted at them and they dispersed, running off and giggling all the away. "Sometimes they're not worth the trouble they cause."

"But they mean well. They're just having a bit of fun."

He sighed. "True." Jean held onto his arm as he started leading her back to the hospital again. Jean thought that it would be tense and awkward, but it wasn't. They were quiet as they walked back, William occasionally pointing out something that he thought Jean might find interesting.

Nothing was said about their kiss, but it could be addressed at a different time. Now, all Jean wanted was to revel in how happy she felt. Everything was blissful. She had found a storybook ending, and, if she were being a bit boastful, it was one that defied imagination.