Disclaimer: I do not own Mr Willy Wonka. I do not own Jack Sparrow, sorry, Captain. I do not own Edward Scissorhands. I do not own Mort Rainey. I do not own Ichabod or anything else that appears in Sleepy Hollow or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. They all belong to the godly wonders that are Tim Burton, Johnny Depp and Stephen King but to name a few. Anything I happen to invent does, however belong to me. Dedicated to Rachel for daring me to write a fic with all my favourite Depp characters!

One Depp Too Far For Mr Wonka

Success – a misleading word. If not achieving success is to fail; can success only be so if absolutely every part of it was expected? And, seeing as nothing works out in exactly the way we plan, could anyone truly succeed?

William could. Whatever he wished to create would, at least eventually, come into being.

So long as it involved chocolate.

For William was none other than the world-renowned maker of chocolates, Mr Willy Wonka.

At this point in time, this most amazing factory was (for all the world knew) closed and William had spent many years solely in the company of a bizarre race of little people – the Oompa Loompas. Right now he was working on his newest creation.

A large machine had been set up on the sugar-frosted lawn of the Chocolate Room, the beautiful centre of his extraordinary home. Discs like silver dinner plates rotated on metal arms that spidered out from the top of the machine. Each little arm bobbed up and down causing something inside to hiss.

Mr Wonka tapped a gloved finger on his lips in thought. Then he pressed a square, purple button on the machine's body. There was a purring noise, then a loud wheeee before a miniscule flap lifted and spat. William caught the object in his palm and smiled.

It was a lollipop, bright blue in colour with the picture of an hourglass imprinted in the centre. He licked it and placed it back into the flap. The machine gave a growl and a door slid open in its belly.

Mr Wonka noticed that his workers had begun to gather, keeping their distance, their eyes as sorrowful as kicked puppies.

"I told you not to worry," he said. "But you scaredy-cats wouldn't test it out for me. I'll only be in there a few seconds, get a quick change and it'll all wear off after an hour or so, 'kay?"

The Oompa Loompas crouched lower on the banks of the chocolate river, their eyes peering at ground level as Mr Wonka got on all fours and rolled into the chamber.

"I hope I don't come back as anything dangerous," his voice echoed eerily. "Oh well."

The door closed. At first nothing happened, but then the machine began to shake and groan. Lights flickered, a train whistle blew, and then with one final shudder it fell quiet. The chamber sighed open and Mr Wonka crawled out.

"Weird. I don't feel any different." He frowned and got to his feet. "Am I taller? No, that's only because I was all balled up in there."

William gave an involuntary giggle and snapped his fingers.

"Darn it, I thought I'd have it right by now."

He was just turning to look at his faulty creation when it happened.

The chamber exploded. Mr Wonka was blasted off his feet. The Oompa Loompas shrieked in terror and fled from the room as it filled rapidly with smoke.

Everything was dark. William didn't like the dark much. It reminded him of the night his aunt locked him in the cellar as a child. His father had told her not to let Willy have any sweets while he was staying there, and she had caught him trying to take something from the biscuit jar. It had been damp there, and he swore he heard rats.

It took only moments to realise the reason for the darkness was that his hat had fallen over his eyes. It took even less time to notice that he wasn't entirely alone.

Two bodies lay nearby; one face down on the grass, wearing what seemed to be a smart suit of olden times; another, of which only the boots could be seen poking out of the jelly-filled pumpkin patch.

But Mr Wonka's attention was diverted to a third figure. The man was standing on the path leading down to the river, his back to the chocolate-maker. Draping down a scruffy shirt, cords of braided black hair spilled from a scarlet bandanna. At his waist was a combination of a red and white striped cloth beneath a leather belt; a pistol one side, an occupied scabbard at the other.

William stood up slowly, hugging his cane to his chest. He crept along the path, taking care not to make a sound as he closed in on the stranger. Reaching out with his cane, he tapped the man on the shoulder.

"Aghh!" they cried in unison.

"You're a – you're a pirate!" Mr Wonka screamed.

"Aghh! You're a-." The pirate paused. "Just bear with me, mate. What are you?"

"I'm, I'm a chocolate-maker," William stammered.

"Oh right." The pirate returned to his frightened stance. "Aghh! You're a chocolate-maker!" he roared, his arms splayed dramatically.

Mr Wonka held his cane like a barrier between them.

"You know, you're vaguely familiar."

"I should think I'm more than vaguely familiar, mate. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

The pirate gave a grin that sparkled a couple of gold-capped teeth.

"Yeah, I don't know who that is." William's voice was always childish and matter-of-fact. "But I think I've seen your eyes before."

Jack sidestepped him and moved gingerly across the grass. Only the tips of his boots touched the floor, he carried his hands as though on the verge of playing a piano. He stopped when he reached the prone body of the man in the eighteenth century suit.

"O' course, that makes sense," he said, looking back to the eccentric in the top hat and tails. "I got very drunk, more so than usual. This man can't handle 'is drink and this…place…is just a very detailed 'allucination."

Mr Wonka had to protest, "Oh no, it's all very real."

"You would say that," Jack replied. "My brain invented you too."

"Well then, you'll know all about making chocolate."

Jack wasn't listening. He was poking the unconscious man. Readying himself to deal out a few slaps, he rolled him over.

"Bloody 'ell!"

William flinched and watched the pirate stagger back in alarm. He looked at him, waiting for an explanation.

"He…you…" Jack slurred, pointing at both the young man and Mr Wonka. "'E's you! You're 'im! I mean… you're both each other." He hesitated and took a closer glimpse at the dormant one before adding, "Only e's got better hair."

Mr Wonka blurted out a squeal of delight. Shaking his fists with glee, he skipped over to see for himself.

"I did it! This is so cool. I actually crossed dimensions." By now he was muttering to himself. "Okay so I was supposed to actually become one, but this is great! But wait, if I'm still me, and none of them are this me, and by them I mean there's more than one, then…oh no."

William swung around to face the pirate and came almost nose-to-nose with him. He 'hmm'ed a few times, then reached with his cane to poke at Jack's hair braids.

"Do us a favour, mate, and tell a fellow just exactly what you're doing," Jack growled, slapping the stick away.

"I was checking to see if you're me too," Mr Wonka said with an air of excitement.

Jack looked affronted.

"What? Me you? No. With that complexion? Unlikely."

"All right Mr Smarty Pants," William replied with his most irritating singsong voice. "You try taking the sequins and eyeliner off your noggin, getting a shave, a very-." He paused to sniff. "-very long bath and waiting 'til your skin isn't as orange as an Oompa Loompa's and then tell me you don't look like me or that guy."

"My skin is not as orange as a – whatever it was you just called me," Jack defended. "The Caribbean tan and 'ow I decorate my 'ead is what you might call style. Drives the women crazy. And as for the us being one and the same, what would you be calling yourself?"

The chocolate maker stepped back and tipped his hat.

"Mr Wonka, owner of this factory."

There was a groan from the grass.

"The whelp's awake."

At Jack's words, they turned to see the prostrate man's eyes flickering open. A few seconds passed and he sat bolt upright. Colour returned to his cheeks when he saw the two men staring at him.

"Oh thank goodness!" he cried in absolute Standard English. "You all have heads."

"Yes, we do!" said William, beaming.

"Quite," said the man, getting up. "Who are you?"

"I… am Captain Jack Sparrow. And this enthusiastic character would be Mr Wank- er, sorry, Mr Wonka." Jack looked shifty for a moment, then he added, "Apologies, I didn't catch your name."

"That's because I didn't give it. Constable Ichabod Crane."

Mr Wonka appeared to find this fascinating.

"Wow. We're all named after birds!"

There was a brief silence, then –

"I've never 'eard of a Wonka bird."

"Do you know," William said, ignoring Jack's comment. "There are far too many mumblers in the world. Can't hear a word they're saying."

Crane forced a smile.

"Judging by your attire, Mr Sparrow, I'd be inclined to think that you were some sort of corsair."

"Oh no, mate. They're bloodthirsty mindless savages. Me, I'm just a pirate. Wouldn't 'urt a fly unless it suited me."

Ichabod straightened his coat collar and attempted to circle the captain. However, Jack was mimicking his movements.

"Mr Sparrow, are you aware that piracy is an arrestable offence? Of course you will be. You don't really strike me as a law-abiding man. I'm afraid I shall have to take you into custody."

Jack's grin widened, showing off the additional silver-capped incisors of his bottom jaw.

"Is that so? You and what particular army?"

Constable Crane halted. He glanced from side to side, observing the confectionary environment for the first time. Still he seemed determined to ignore the fact that he didn't have a clue where he was.

"You there, sir," he called to Mr Wonka. "You would bear witness to the justified arrest of this criminal, would you not?"

"What's he done wrong?"

Ichabod answered tensely. "Well, pirate things obviously!"

"Well now, that's a bit broad. Have you seen him doing anything bad while he's been here?"

"Of course I haven't. I just woke up!"

During all of this, Jack was pivoting on one foot between the two speakers, an inane smile plastered on his face. He was clearly enjoying himself.

Ichabod grimaced. He was opening his mouth to speak when he heard something moving behind him. By the look of the pirate's quickly fading expression, it wasn't something he was going to like. He turned and paled.