Willy watched in amusement as Charlie tasted each flavour experimentally, his expressions ranging vastly between each mouthful.

As Charlie dipped a finger into a particularly sour batch of pink cherry, his finger was already in his mouth before Willy could warn him. He laughed as Charlie's eyes squeezed together involuntarily, his lips puckering from the taste.

"So sour," he grimaced, sticking his tongue out, as if to wash away the sensation.

"It is, isn't it?" Willy agreed with a smile, his hand coming to rest thoughtfully under his chin. "I haven't quite got the ratios right at the moment."

"Dark chocolate might help," ventured Charlie, recovering, "the darker the better." He mirrored Willy's pose. "The two flavours together could be quite nice?"

"You could be onto something there," Willy nodded, supressing a proud smile; Charlie was a natural.

The young boy smiled up at him and continued to taste test the various samples. Meanwhile, Willy felt his mind wandering as Charlie called out other suggestions, his thoughts drifting dangerously to Emily.

She had seemed anxious to get away earlier, practically sprinting out of the elevator the moment the doors had opened. He'd sensed her staring at him, and he was beginning to wonder if she was, regrettably, wary of him.

Had he overstepped? Admittedly, grabbing her hand outside of the factory had been a spur of the moment solution, and handing her his coat was merely a case of practicality; he tried to assure himself, the knot that was currently forming in his stomach suggesting otherwise.

"This one's definitely my favourite," grinned Charlie, gesturing towards the vanilla syrup.

Willy cleared his head quickly.

"Try the vanilla and the horseradish together," he recommended, overlooking Charlie's disgusted expression.

'Really?" Charlie looked sceptical.

"Go on, try it," he urged, nodding.

Charlie gave the combination a go, his mouth turning down into a grimace as he shook his head.

"Disgusting, isn't it?" Willy's eyes glinted mischievously as Charlie laughed. "Horseradish just doesn't seem to go with anything."

Soon enough they found themselves returning to the elevator, and at the press of a button they were headed for the top level of the factory.

"You'll be coming up with your own recipes in no time," Willy quipped. "Be sure to keep them safe!"

Charlie looked at him seriously, his feet planted firmly as the elevator made a sharp curve to the right.

"Do spies really try and steal your recipes, Mr. Wonka?"

"Not as often as you'd think Charlie, but you've got to be prepared," he assured. The elevator began to slow and Willy added, "the Oompa Loompas make for excellent security, so I shouldn't worry."

Charlie smiled in relief as the elevator doors opened, the pair stepping out into the familiar yellow corridor.

"Now, I want you to have a look at that door, down there by the archway," Willy pointed towards the end of the corridor.

"Right at the end?"

"That's the one."

Charlie trotted down the corridor, coming to a stop in front of a small door. His face lit up and he pushed the door open eagerly, disappearing inside without a second glance.

Willy smiled to himself, glancing around hesitantly, his eyes lingering on one door in particular.

He debated simply walking away – after all, there was plenty of work he should be doing. Just the thought of dealing with the Beauregard woman left another knot in his stomach. What lay beyond this door promised a much more pleasant interaction.

But perhaps she doesn't want to talk to you?

He took a breath, despite his worries, and walked quietly towards the door. He was nearly a head taller than the frame, so he stooped forward slightly as he raised his hand.

Willy knocked gently, clearing his throat as he did so.

"Ms. Bucket?"

He waited for a response, absentmindedly flattening a crease in his trousers.

Nothing.

He knocked again, a little harder this time. He realised he should probably just walk away, but he couldn't help himself.

"Em?" he grimaced, "sorry, Emily?" he corrected himself.

When there was no response once again, he gave the door handle an experimental push. The door swung open silently, and his brows knitted together as he glanced around the room.

His coat and scarf were resting atop the chest of drawers, and am empty glass vase sat next to them.

Had the Oompa Loompas forgotten to fill it with flowers? Had he asked them to? Had he told them he would do it?

His thoughts were interrupted by a crumpled piece of paper laying on the floor; he recognised it instantly as the note he had written earlier that day. He allowed himself tentatively into the room, dipping through the doorway to pick it up.

There was no sign that Emily was there, so he placed the note next to the empty vase and left hurriedly.

He emerged once again out into the corridor, involuntarily searching for a clue as to Emily's whereabouts, the nagging feeling that he should just leave her be stronger than ever.

He spotted two figures through the glass doors at the end of the corridor, his smile instantaneous as he spotted a familiar profile.

Willy's smile faltered, however, as he registered her companion.

"Wilkinson," he sighed to himself, grimacing as realisation dawned.

The pair were sat at a table, deep in conversation, mugs clutched in their hands.

He'd completely forgotten to explain the Slugworth/Wilkinson strategy, and he could only imagine how their exchange had gone down.

He took a tentative step backwards in the hope that he could escape without notice. He locked eyes with Emily, however, and couldn't help but smile once more. Wilkinson followed her gaze, his smile a lot less infectious.

Willy felt his smile disappear as he was beckoned forwards, his legs reluctantly obliging.

He pushed the glass doors open slowly.

"Ah, I see you two have already made acquaintances," he nodded, "excellent."

"Yes, it appears we have," nodded Wilkinson, his smile dangerous.

"Good!" Willy smiled back, ignoring the flash of warning in his colleague's eye, the door clicking shut lightly behind him. "Anyone for more tea?" he asked, busying himself behind one of the counters, searching desperately for a kettle.

"Ms. Bucket was quite alarmed when she saw me," Wilkinson coaxed, ignoring his question. Willy raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, busying himself in a drawer.

"I've always said you come across as quite intimidating –"

"She was unaware of my alias," Wilkinson cut across Willy's response, sharp and to the point.

Willy paused, closing the drawer slowly and looking over at the two.

"Well, you should really make it known –"

"And she was under the impression that I was Arthur Slugworth," he continued.

"If that's the name you use to introduce yourself then –"

Willy was beginning to buckle, but he continued to feign ignorance in the hope that Wilkinson might find the approach endearing.

"Why would Ms. Bucket think that when we'd agreed you'd let the two of them know?" Wilkinson cut across him once more, enjoying his interrogation far more than he should.

His chosen approach was decidedly not endearing, it would appear.

"I think there might have been a misunderstanding with –"

"Because, of course, you didn't forget, did you?"

Willy paused, floundering.

"There's a slight chance I may have –"

"After making such a big speech about your impeccable memory?"

He grimaced. Had he said that?

"I don't think I used the word impeccable –"

"Slugworth!"

Willy thanked the heavens for Charlie's perfect timing, turning to him with a relieved smile.

"Charlie! My dear boy, you'd be right to think so," he beckoned Charlie into the room eagerly, "but this is actually one of my dear friends and colleagues, Mr. Wilkinson!"

Willy emerged from his spot behind the counter, placing an arm reassuringly around Charlie's shoulders, all thoughts of tea forgotten.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Charlie." Wilkinson stood up, shaking Charlie's hand warmly, "congratulations." He smiled kindly, Willy taking the opportunity to slide surreptitiously past them and into one of the empty seats at the table.

"Mr. Wilkinson?" queried Charlie. "But that day in the alley, when you stopped us, why did you pretend?"

"Please, Charlie, call me Peter," Wilkinson answered, waving his hand in distaste, "and it was to see if you'd be tempted," he smiled knowingly and Charlie's eyes grew wide.

"The Everlasting Gobstopper!"

"Precisely," he nodded. "I work for Mr. Wonka, though it would seem he failed to mention it."

Willy felt Wilkinson's eyes burning into the back of his head. He looked imploringly at Emily, who smiled and turned her attention to the table.

He turned pleadingly to face Wilkinson with a forlorn frown.

"Sometimes there's just too much going on in my head, Peter, I must apologise."

Wilkinson raised an eyebrow in response.

"Is that so."

Willy flashed a smile at his colleague before beckoning him and Charlie over.

"Am I forgiven?"

Wilkinson re-took his seat, pushing his empty mug away.

"For which occurrence are you seeking forgiveness?"

Willy paused, wracking his memory.

"All of them?" he asked, hopefully.

"No."

"Worth a try," shrugged Willy, nudging Charlie playfully in seat beside him.

"I was just discussing some practicalities with Ms. Bucket before you joined us." Wilkinson continued, ignoring Willy's attempts to distract him.

"Indeed," nodded Willy, sobering, "it would seem we've caused quite a disturbance."

"They'll get bored eventually, won't they?" asked Charlie, his head tilting to the side inquisitively.

"What you have to understand, Charlie, is that the factory's been a mystery for years," explained Wilkinson, "and now people know that Mr. Wonka's actually in here, they'll be very interested to find out more."

"We knew that the competition would cause a stir," Willy reasoned.

"Yes, but you didn't have to turn one of the contestants blue," admonished Wilkinson.

"I tried to warn her," Willy mumbled.

"Yes, well, perhaps you could have tried harder," Wilkinson warned. "Regardless, people need to get to work and Charlie needs to attend his school lessons."

Charlie whined, opening his mouth to protest. Emily whacked his arm deftly and he glared at her, falling silent.

"I estimate you have the space of the weekend to resolve the issue," continued Wilkinson.

"Noted," Willy nodded, the knot in his stomach returning.

"There you all are!"

Willy jumped at the sudden interruption, Mrs. Bucket poking her head into the room.

"Hiya mum," Emily smiled, her eyes flashing in warning as Charlie began to rub his arm vigorously. "Mr. Wilkinson, this is –"

"Mrs. Bucket, a pleasure to finally meet you."

Wilkinson crossed the room to shake her hand, tucking his chair in neatly as he stood.

"How lovely to meet you too, Mr. Wilkinson," Mrs. Bucket smiled. "I was just going to start cooking dinner, would you like to join us?"

"Thank you kindly for the offer, but I should be going," he declined politely, throwing a glance back in Willy's direction. "I've got far too many things to deal with at the moment, perhaps another time."

He bid them all goodbye, closing the glass doors gently behind him.

"Don't worry about him, he's not as serious as he appears," whispered Willy, leaning in, Charlie and Emily mirroring him. "I have a knack for making him grumpy."

"I noticed," Em chuckled, the sound causing a familiar flutter in his stomach. "He was quite pleasant before you arrived."

Mrs. Bucket busied herself behind the counters, pulling out various pots and pans.

"Mr. Wonka, we can't thank you enough," she called over her shoulder. "This is all just so incredible."

"I'm so pleased you're settling in," he smiled, pushing away from the table and scooping up the empty mugs. He joined her behind the counter. "You will be sure to let me know if something's not to your liking?"

"Everything's perfect," she assured, glancing around. "Although I am struggling to find –"

Willy pressed a hand to one of the smooth panels of the wall, revealing a modestly stocked fridge.

"Ah, thank you," she smiled as Willy nodded, depositing the empty mugs into the sink.

"What's for dinner?" Charlie asked eagerly, his legs swinging childishly in his chair.

"Cabbage soup for you," teased Emily, causing Willy to laugh as he rinsed out the cups.

Charlie shot a glare in his sister's direction and Willy watched the two fondly as they teased each other.

Was he being ridiculous? Had he really developed feelings for a girl that he barely knew? Or was he just enjoying the company? Perhaps feelings of friendship were often easy to mistake for feelings of romance…

"Em, could you go and find your father?" sighed Mrs. Bucket, "he's on chopping duty this evening."

"I'll go," piped up Charlie, far too eagerly as he pushed himself away from the table. He skipped past Willy and disappeared out into the corridor, leaving his seat next to Emily tantalisingly empty.

"Please, Mr. Wonka, you should join us," Mrs. Bucket offered.

He watched as Em's eyes suddenly grew wider in alarm and he felt his stomach drop, disappointment flooding through him.

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly," Willy sighed. "I've far too much to be getting on with." He glanced swiftly towards Em, sad to see relief rush greedily through her. "I'll leave you in peace." He scrunched his nose in distaste, continuing in good humour as best he could. "I should probably go and find Mr. Wilkinson and apologise."

"Well, please do join us soon, it's the least we can do," she urged, Willy hiding his sad smile.

"I look forward to it, my dear Buckets." He bowed his head as he pulled one of the doors open. "I'll leave you to settle in."

He gave them one final smile, his eyes avoiding Emily's altogether.

He closed the glass door behind him and sighed.

"Enough," he breathed, tutting to himself as he walked purposefully over to the elevator. "Fix the problems you've caused. Don't start making new ones."