Rising Dawn (Willy Wonka X OC)

The Convict

"William Theodore Wonka!"

"Look, Dawn, I can explain, just as soon as we get inside," Will declares, looking around paranoidly. For what? Witnesses?

He grabs my hand and begins pulling me across the sand.

"Will! You will explain yourself right now," I demand, wrenching my hand away from him.

He looks around anxiously even though there's no one here. It's early in the morning, we're on a secluded part of private beach, and no one knows we're here. I don't even think Will told our family where we went. The likelihood of someone seeing us is very low, but the way Will's acting is scaring me. My knee-jerk reaction to his relation of information was that it couldn't be true. Whatever the circumstances, Will didn't kill anyone. Now...I'm not so sure. He's acting suspicious.

Will sighs before taking both of my hands this time and pausing to look me in the eyes. "Dawn, you deserve the truth. You deserve so much more than I have given you, but now is not the time to play mule versus mule. If you come inside with me right now without causing a fuss, I will explain anything you want me to with full candor. I promise you that on my name as a chocolatier and your husband just...please come inside with me."

I open my mouth to respond with indignation, and he must have seen it on my face because he lets go of one of my hands and puts a finger against my lips.

"Don't respond. Don't argue. Don't say anything. Just..." He lets go of me completely and steps back with his hands up. "Just follow me inside as quickly and quietly as possible. Please."

This isn't like him. He's never ordered me around like this. I want to protest, but something in his eyes makes me hesitate. He doesn't necessarily look guilty, just alert and incessant. The way his head is tilted insinuates he's waiting for an answer. With Will, I know the answer can always be a 'no,' he'd never force my hand. I'm just not entirely sure what that 'no' would mean; leaving him to find other people on other parts of the beach or leaving in the glass elevator, I suppose, but I can't do that to him. Whatever he did, we'll figure it out together.

So I nod.

And I let him lead me into the house at a brisk trot.

"Ok, now get your things together," Will says, putting my jacket around my shoulders and brushing the sand off with butterfly soft flicks of his hands. "We have to go."

"What? So now you want to go home?" I back out of his reach. He promised me answers as soon as we got into the house and now he wants to rush back home.

Will runs up the stairs leaving me to trail after him yet again. He immediately goes to the suitcases, repacking what we took out like a madman.

"Will!" I shout. He finally stops and straightens to look at me. "I agree that we have to go home. But before we do that, you have to tell me everything. If not for the fact that I am your wife, so we have a story in place when I'm questioned because I will be questioned. You aren't alone in this anymore. You have a family. And your actions affect all of us. So tell me, are you going to explain yourself right now or am I going to call the coppers?"

I reach for my phone on the dresser threateningly, and Will closes the space between us in record time. He puts his hand on top of mine and pushes it back down.

"I didn't say we had to go home, did I?" He chuckles awkwardly, trying to bring some levity to the situation, but it doesn't work. And what does he mean by that? Was he planning on just going on the run with me? Did he actually kill someone? If so, who was it? The logical answer would be Nigel. The call came the day after Will "dealt" with the tosser. But the look in his eyes when he told me Nigel was still alive was so honest, I have a hard time believing it was anything but.