Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are not mine but R. Dahl, Tim Burton, Freddie Highmore and Johnny Depp.

Based off of 2005 "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory"

A/N: All feedback is welcomed. Please do comment if you read. Small warnings, such as m/m references, mpreg. Don't let that scare you. ;) Really, nothing at all:D

Summary: Charlie Bucket writes a letter to his daughter to explain who actually gave her life and reflects a little about his past.

Whenever I look at you, it's so easy to see him. There's so much of him in you that I'm scared. I didn't think it was possible for you to have violet eyes, but you do. And your brunette hair – it's just like his: so soft to the touch, so perfect. Even your skin is pale. Of course, you bring the feminine quality about, but his appearance still dominates. What did I contribute? Is there any of me in you? Why must you look at me in the same manner he always did me? Your smile gives you away – not even a true smile, but rather always a fake one.

You are not a mistake. He may think that, but I strongly do not. I can't. It's a miracle you even exist. It shouldn't be possible, but then again nothing's impossible, especially when you look at what he's done.

He believes it was all a mistake. He blames me. Fault lies with both of us, though. It was a simple "Got caught up in the moment" sort of deal. There was alcohol involved, which most likely was a contributing factor (Do bear in mind though that that was my first bout with any sort of alcoholic beverage and I've never tried any since). I'll never forget that night. I wonder if he tries to block it, but I know the answer is probably yes. We did have sex together. He actually allowed me to touch him in ways unimaginable. It's beyond words, I can't describe it. You'll experience that sort of thing sometime. But that was the night you were created.

I couldn't believe how upset he was the day afterward. He was so angry. It was hard for me to see him that way. I was young, only seventeen (your age), but I acted older and more mature about the whole situation than he did. He refused to speak to me for days. When he did, his eyes were swollen and red as he held back tears in front of me. He seemed devastated, and he was. I remember his exact words. "Look what your error in judgment did, Charlie." He had a hand laid on his stomach as he spoke. "I'm pregnant, for whizzdoodles sake! How is this possible?" He was deeply distraught. He went on to tell me that when you were born, I was to take you away, move my family and myself out of the factory, and never attempt contacting him. He wanted, and still wants, nothing to do with you. I feel terrible about that.

It's not your fault. You must understand that he is an utterly private person and dislikes being around people. I don't think he could've handled taking care of you with me. When you were finally born, my goodness it was such a day. He rejected the plan to be taken to a proper hospital, and so he gave birth to you in the factory's own care center. He allowed me to lend my hand to him to grip and squeeze through the process. He wouldn't permit me to touch him other than that – I couldn't wipe the perspiration from his brow, couldn't cradle him in my arms for a brief moment after, couldn't stroke his hair, couldn't kiss him. I couldn't admit to him my thoughts of perhaps maybe being in love with him. He didn't want to hold or even look at you when they got you safely out of him. I tried to persuade him, but he was in tears, distressed, and exhausted. He didn't want to look at me again either. I held you. You were incredibly stunning. You barely cried. I named you myself after trying to get him to help, which he refused. It was the last time I saw him before packing up everything and taking you and your grandparents with me.

The event was covered up and never spoken about to anyone. It would have caused great scandal and most likely would have tainted his business empire and reputation. Everyone thinks you came from your mother. Indeed, she is your mother because she came into my life shortly after I left that place, has raised you with me, and is now married to me. But you are now old enough to learn the truth. The person who is your father, gave birth to you, and gave you life is the world's most famous chocolatier.

He's such a beautiful man. You look so much like him. It's as if I'm staring at him when I look at you. Sometimes it is too much for me. That's why I cry every now and then.

I wish you could see him. I wish he would want to see you. I'm sure his appearance hasn't changed, even though it has been seventeen years. He seems to never age. He really is a wonderful person, but I learned the painful way that he is utterly sensitive and solitary. He was frightened. I know he did what he thought best in his mind. And blaming me was the easiest thing to do to keep his own stability. Please do not take this as me wanting to change the past. That would mean never having you, and I simply can't fathom not having you now. You are a blessing. You're my little girl, my starshine.

Maybe one day he will want to meet you. And I hope that you would want to meet him too. I wanted to tell you the truth. I protected you for so long from it. That's what fathers do though, I suppose. It was time I told you. I know you have been wondering about those violet eyes of yours, and why your appearance doesn't resemble your mother's at all. You're my daughter and also the daughter of Willy Wonka. It's time you knew that.

Love you always and forever,

Your father

A/N: Please review. Thank you.