A/N: For those who have no idea who I am, I am White Shade. I write mostly for Alice in Wonderland 2010, but I do like my chocolate. I read a few of the stories, and I'm surprised. If you wish to read this story, read at your own risk. This is a completely different type of story...it's a White Shade story. It's a WillyxOC, but different.

~White Shade

And Here You Sit

"So, what do I do first?" asked the curious brown haired, bright boy. It was Charlie's first day after he'd returned to Wonka with his family. He was learning how to work the eccentric machinery Willy had in a few of the rooms.

"I'm a simple fellow," Wonka explained. "So, all you do is watch the sheep when they come out, and when they do, the oompa lumpa will shave him. After he does that, your job will be to round up the sheep using this lever. Only five sheep at a time, you hear?"

"Yes," he answered. Willy told the boy if he was to start helping him, Charlie would need to work the factory as well as make the candy.

"Now, I'm going out for a walk," Wonka said. "The oompa lumpa over there will tell you when you can be finished." With that, he left Charlie there, taking his great glass elevator "Up and Out".

He stepped out, leaving the elevator on the factory grounds, and gazing around the tiny town. He'd never realized it was this small, but then again, this was only his second or third time out in years. He stranded away from the commotion of townspeople and off into the woods.

Still winter he thought as he strode through the snow. He'd been walking aimlessly for quite a while, when a cry was heard from a farther away distance. His head turned, alarmed at first. The cry sounded so close he could reach out and grab it. Willy thought about turning away and going back to the factory, but something in his mind said this was important. He cautiously and slightly frightened, advanced. One step at a time.

"No! You can't have it! I won't let you!" he heard that same voice yell. Willy's trail stopped at hearing this. The voice commenced.

"That is what you call mine! I'll show you mine...Ah-uh," the last few words were chocked out, and the chocolatier could barely here them.

Whoever this was, they were into something seriously horrid. This time, he really considered turning back. He heard a thrust and a bang. A few branches cracked and he heard struggles and screams. He stepped back, still thinking of whether or not to turn back and just run.

Then...silence. Nothing stirred anymore. There was nothing more until the sound of footsteps slowly faded away in the back round. Whoever that was ran the other way, and when Willy heard nothing more, he questioned what had happened. One more step forward he took. His walking stick stuck in the snow as he walked further away from the town and further towards the mysterious noises he'd heard merely moments before.

There. There. There in the snow, the figure lay. It moved nowhere and stayed in its place, as if it were a statue meant to be taken by the white bliss. Willy saw the red stains in the snow, gasped and took a step back. Maybe I really should mind my own..

"Is...someone...th-there?" the voice asked, weakly and worthless.

"Y-yes," he answered, unsure of what to do. "What happened..."

"Lift me up," her cracked voice said interrupting, though not a command to him. He was afraid to touch her, what with all that blood not only in the snow but on herself. Willy tried to go around the blood in the snow, but after failing to find a path, he daringly walked through it. He cringed at the thought of this, but he had to help this girl. He found a spot, her waist, where he lifted her up and hadn't laid his hands on the blood. He leaned her against the tree.

The branches were cracked and some broken off, showing she had struggled or fought back or whatever she'd been doing. Her eyes were closed, but she was very much alive. She wasn't nearly as young as Charlie was, yet she wasn't quite Mrs. Bucket's age. Her hair was auburn, but he didn't know if that was her original color or if the blood had stained that as well.

"What is your name?" he asked her.

"Chance," she answered. What a weird name, he thought. "Please, get me to town...anywhere, and I won't burden you any longer. You can even drop me at the mad house if you'd like..." she sounded desperate. The mad house? Why would her send her there? That place was awful.

"No, no," he said. "I won't do that, but...tell me where you live."

"Loner," she answered.

"Where's that?"

"It's not a place," Chance said, swallowing dryly. "I'm a loner. I don't have a family." Willy comprehended her answer, wondering how sad that was not to have a family. He had one, and he'd made things right with his father again. But, she had no one.

"Then you must stay for a while," he concluded. "May I try to not hurt you to the best of my ability?" She knew he would carry her, but she wouldn't have any of that. She felt weak when she was carried. Insisting she could walk, she stood up, the pain from her opponent's knife and the branches that dug themselves deep into her skin shot through her. She'd suddenly wished she'd died.

Willy saw how horrible it was for her to even stand up, let alone walk, but she had complete faith she could walk and he really didn't want to touch any of that blood. She limped on her left leg as he guided her through the forest. Her eyes opened when she looked up, reveling emeralds dimmed with pain and sorrow. She hurt physically, but her spirit held its place. The clouds over the sky made the scene dark. It was definitely time to go home.

Her eyes themselves fascinated him. They glistened in the dark though they were dimmed, and they pierced the atmosphere as lighting would on a stormy night. The town still rowdy, but less than before due to the clouds and oncoming rain, the two of them slowly made their way across the sidewalks.

Chance kept her head down the entire way, not looking up once. He knew her eyes were still open, but her wounds were hard to look at. Her back was drenched in blood and he saw her slash marks and harsh beatings. There was even a scar on her right arm, high on her shoulder. She was dirty and her clothing was torn up and looked too small for her.

What did I just get myself into? he thought.

They reached the factory, Willy guiding her to the front door. He let her go in first, and she stopped, waiting until he'd shut the door behind him. She was in a new place with new surroundings. She didn't know the way, and she had no choice but to trust the man who came to her side once more. However, she was not scared. Chance had no where else to go, and this was a privilege she would gladly accept. At least someone found me, she told herself repeatedly as he walked her to the small house in the mist of the valley of candies, sugar grass and chocolate river. She could smell it all, and she hadn't eaten in days...

That smell fell away as she entered another room. Gasps told Chance there were about six people in the room, not including her rescuer.

"What's that?" Mr. Bucket asked for everyone in the room. The family was silent.

"She's not a that, she's a who," Willy said. "I found her in the woods while I walked..."

"That's a girl?!" Mrs. Bucket asked in alarm. Chance shut her eyes, angered at these people. Being called a what she wasn't insulted by, it was the fact she was a girl that they all seemed so shocked at.

"She's a street beggar," an old man said.

"Dad," a man said. She shut her eyes harder, but that was a true statement. One she didn't want to admit. She had to fight for everything she owned, but this one had been a failure.

"Let's get you cleaned up then," Mrs. Bucket said. "I'm Mrs. Bucket, and I'm going to try and see what can be done about those wounds. So fresh." She led Chance into another small room. She heard the water running and she sighed in relief.

"Where did you find her? More importantly, what were you thinking?" the old man scolded Willy as he sat down by the fireplace.

"I was thinking she needed help," Willy answered. "There was no one else around." The old man sighed in disappointment.

"I'm sure it will be fine," Joe said, though he could never be sure. "She hasn't got an attitude."

"How do we know she hasn't talked yet," Mr. Bucket's dad said. Optimistic versus pessimistic...never ending with those two.

A set of footsteps in a run halted by the doorway.

"I finished work..." Charlie called, entering the house to find the situation he'd barged in on. "Oh." His family looked at him as he entered the house. Except he didn't see his mother anywhere. Willy turned his head, standing as he did so to face the boy. Charlie cleared his throat.

"What'd I miss?"

Note: Noah is who Charlie's father is. I don't know his first name, so there. If you see the name, that's who I'm referring to. He's not an OC! I Have no idea how long this will be, but I WILL finish it. Review plz! I need to know how all you Wonka fans find my unique viewpoints. My stories do come far out of their original content.