This two-shot came to me out of the blue(as most of my stories do), and the more I cultivated the story in my head, the more I thought it was worth writing. This is actually a personal interpretation of what got Eugene to the breaking point, what made him forsake his name, and himself, to chase the life of Flynnigan Rider.

I hope you all enjoy this, as I spent a lot of time off my other story "As Flowers Bloom and Fade" to write this.

Yes, there may be a few little errors, but critisism will not be ignored.

Read on, my good readers!

-kittehkitty2

To some, the crowded streets, filled with tramping boots and busy persons, would scare many children to their mother's sides, clutching to her skirt fearfully at the booming calls of the vendors, the buzzing of human voices echoing off the houses lining the streets. Yet, to nine year old Eugene Fitzherbert, this was something to be eagerly awaited. As the midday bustle began, most of the young, orphaned children would scurry into the streets, trying to scrape up an existence for themselves. Each would find some way to gain a few coins, enough to pay for something to fill their stomachs for the day. Eugene quickly collected his stool, brush, and oil from underneath the bunk on which he slept in the orphanage. Stealing himself through several dirty alleyways, he came to the square, watching with eager anticipation as the sun danced on the tiles, displaying beaming patterns on the stone. Quickly setting up his stool by the fountain, he began to call out in his loudest voice, praying someone would hear him above the penetrating calls of the professional merchants. Though most children had chosen to pickpocket to make their living, Eugene had decided to shine shoes inside, his mind constantly remembering the time he had seen an older boy be arrested for picking a noble's wallet. Two men in armor, each chest plate bearing the symbol of a golden flower, had shoved the boy, who was protesting and screaming, to the ground, handcuffing him before jostling him toward the castle. The "dungeon", as most of his kind would call it, had always intrigued Eugene, and not because it held criminals and thieves, but because it was attached to one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen; the palace. As the sun rose in the morning, the tip of that orange orb would light the entire building with an ethereal glow, dancing off the glittering structure. It always made him gasp in wonder, the glory of it all, the towering presence it had in the kingdom.

Seeing it often reminded him of the princess that had been born only two years ago, the celebration of her birth always leaving his heart cold and empty. Everything seemed so perfect for her. She lived in that beautiful castle, with actual parents who were always with her, and the notion that she would never know what it was like to go hungry, to feel the slow numbing of bare feet on a sheet of ice, knowing you have no shoes to protect them. Yet, when she had been stolen away, Eugene couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She had lost everything, and he knew exactly how it felt. He often wondered what had happened to her, like the rest of the kingdom was, but it was certain she wasn't coming back. Eugene had been surprised when the King and Queen had set a reward for her return, and he often dreamed of being the one to receive it. But that would never happen…

A sudden voice brought Eugene out of his thoughts, making him jump in surprise. A towering figure blotted out the sunshine, and the man silently placed a booted foot on the stool. Eugene quickly went to work, rubbing the shoes thoroughly with a coarse cloth dipped in oil, smiling as the dusty leather shown a deep, chocolaty brown again. Finishing his work briskly, he sat back with satisfaction, happy that he had done someone service. Squinting up at the man, a silent plea issued from within the amber depths, he watched as the figure wordlessly flicked a coin into his lap. Eugene quickly pounced on it, pride evident in his smile as he held the coin up to the sky. It reflected a silver light as he looked into its shiny glare. Pocketing the currency, he took up something that had become something he was very good at, waiting.

The afternoon proved to be mildly successful, his pockets filled with nearly enough currency to feed his growling stomach. The crowds were thinning out as the sun began to make its daily assent into the bay, and Eugene was hoping to get one more customer before the day was done. Yet call as he might, not one person seemed interested in cleaning their footwear. As he called to individuals, a man walking close by caught his eye.

"Sir," Eugene asked, watching eagerly as the man stopped.

"Whaddya want, boy," the man snarled, stopping to stare icily into his eyes.

"Would you be interested in a shoe shine," Eugene asked timidly, a sudden shyness overcoming him.

"NO, bugger it, you've asked me five times, and ah still don't want one," the man hissed, stepping several feet away from Eugene, adding with a menacing shout, "Now beat it ya orphaned rat!"

Before Eugene could even react, a missile hurled toward him, hitting him squarely in the side of his head. He flinched, blinking down at the rock that lay mutely on the ground. Touching the place of impact, he quickly pulled his hand away at the feeling of sticky blood on his fingertips. His head throbbed painfully, the blood beginning to cake on his already matted hair. The dirt clung resolutely to his deep brown locks, showing everyone that no one cared, that he was as wretched as the stray dogs that roamed the streets, in search of anything to keep them alive. A rouge tear slid down his cheek, but Eugene quickly brushed it away. He was too strong to cry, not like the little babies that were at the orphanage, who wailed over everything. Yet, he often felt just as helpless, wondering why he had to live so awfully, compared to the other children that lived in the in kingdom. Several more hot tears slid down his face, and burying his face in his folded arms, childish sobs racked his chest. Why did he have to live like this, while over children tripped through the streets happily, their hair brushed and their clothes clean, with loving parents gently holding their hands. He longed to feel someone wrap him in a hug, to know someone truly cared for him. He just wanted to be loved, that was all. Everyone called him "orphaned this" or "orphaned that", sometimes words he didn't even understand. Why was this world so often cruel, with only harsh words to those who had nothing and good to those who had everything at their fingertips? His dirty sleeves became stained with tears as Eugene sat on the fountain, his innocent ways of making a living strewn in front of him.

Suddenly, Eugene could feel hot breath blowing in his hair, and a sticky, wet object rasping his hand. Blinking through the tears that clouded his amber eyes, he could see a large, tannish dog sitting next to him, deep brown eyes staring into his. The animal whined, wagging a feathered tail comfortingly, nosing the long muzzle against Eugene's chest. Normally, he would have brushed the flee-infested animal away, knowing that most dogs were wild, only stealing the precious food that he had worked hard to pay for. But this time, the silent friendship of the dog's presence only made Eugene sob harder, clutching the dog's matted fur helplessly. The dog shuffled closer to his shaking frame, laying his soft muzzle in Eugene's lap while insistently licking his hand. For what seemed ages Eugene sat there, letting the balled up emotions pour out onto the dog's dirty fur. In the world that seemed so heartless, it felt like someone cared, even if that someone was only an animal. The dog never left his side, only cuddling closer when Eugene's sobs frequented. As the sun began to sink into the bay, casting an orange and purple glow over the kingdom, Eugene finally dried his eyes, sighing as he saw the empty vending carts that held no more of the food he so badly needed. Patting the dog's head gratefully, he collected his tools, silently heading to the orphanage, even though he wished he could run in the other direction, until he came to a place where the pain and suffering would end, even though he knew he would never experience that in his lifetime. When he finally passed through the wrought iron gate that opened into the orphanage yard, he was surprised to find that the dog was still following him, that undying devotion still shining in those deep eyes.

"Sorry buddy," Eugene whispered as he closed the gate behind him. Crouching down so he could look the canine in the eye, he added, "You can't come in."

Snuffling through the bars, the dog took one last lick at his hand before padding along the fence. With a sigh, he collapsed under a bush, laying his head on crossed paws. Eugene took one final look at the dog before walking into the orphanage, his heart still heavy with the depression and sorrow that always attached determinedly to it. The building was dimly lit with candles, children crammed together in every room. Madame Eliza sat in a creaking rocking chair, holding two sleeping toddlers in her lap. She was the "mother" of them all, the woman who cared for all the children which took up residence in the orphanage. The woman smiled motherly as Eugene entered, asking in a tired whisper, "Hello Eugene, shoe shining go well?"

"Sort of," Eugene mumbled, averting eye contact as the harsh words throbbed in his head.

The patron gasped slightly as Eugene turned to leave, her eyes widening as she noticed his bloodstained hair.

"What happened to you," she exclaimed quietly, trying to reach him without waking up the youngsters resting on her lap.

"I'm fine," Eugene responded quickly, batting away her attempts to touch his head. "Please leave it alone…"

The woman wordlessly sank into her chair, the strain evident in her eyes. The years of backbreaking labor were finally catching up with her, even though she was trying to so hard to shove it aside like it wasn't there. These children depended upon her for survival, and she couldn't possibly let them loose on the streets to starve. Yet, she often didn't even have a crumb of bread to feed them, their hungry faces plaguing her dreams constantly. So when Eugene opened his mouth a second time, she only shook her head, knowing what he was about to ask. It broke her heart to see his adorable face crack into a depressed expression whenever she said no. Even though he was only nine, the signs of maturity were evident in the way he acted and spoke. Every night, surrounded by all the younger kids, Eugene would carefully pull a torn book from a rotting shelf, a sense of pride in his loving gaze. He would crack back the spine carefully, thumbing through the worn pages with a forefinger. Then, with a clearing of the throat, he would begin to read, a descriptive, rich tone floating off of his voice. The "Tales of Flynnigan Rider" would take shape as he tore through the story with exhilarated speed. When the episode would finally conclude, Eugene would shut the book with a "thump", smiling as the others begged for more. The smaller children would pull on his shirt and step on his toes, trying desperately to pull him back to his seat. Eugene would only tousle their hair before replacing the book carefully to its place on the shelf.

Yet today, Eugene quietly went to his cot, stashing his tools underneath the sagging wooden frame. He then lay down on the blanket which was stretched over the wood, resting his hands behind his head. Madame Victoria sighed as she watched him listlessly gaze at the ceiling. She knew someone had done something to physically and mentally hurt him, but he never wanted sympathy. In fact, he had never been one to run to her at all, always taking challenges head on, never running to hide behind her shadow, like others often did. He would only let her give him an occasional hug, and even those were few and far between. She knew he had always felt rejected by the world, yet he only sat in brooding silence, going through life without any display of emotions, at least not to her.

Gently awakening the two on her lap, she sent them off to their beds. The sun had finally sunk into the bay, being replaced by the moon, which shed a silver light through the windows. Easing her battered body onto her own cot, she blew out the candle flickering on a stand. The children did the same; all except Eugene, his candle shining like a beacon in the night. After lying on his bed, depressed thoughts running through his head, he finally blew out his candle, the whole building now black and cold. Eugene's eyes slowly fluttered closed, the darkness lulling him to sleep. It seemed like he had only been asleep for a few seconds before he felt rough fist punch him lightly in the shoulder. Squinting in the darkness, Eugene couldn't mistake the threatening scowls of the stabbington brothers, whose faces seemed even more menacing in the silver glow of the moon.

"Whaddya want, Hank," Eugene groaned, scrunching the pillow, which barely contained any stuffing, around his ears.

"We want the dough," Hank replied, kicking the frame with a foot. "Now!"

"What dough," Eugene asked innocently, blinking at the brothers. "I didn't buy any food and you know it…"

"Don't get smart," Hank growled, shaking Eugene's collar. "The money, hand it over!"

Eugene swallowed slightly, toying with the idea of telling a little white lie. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to speak. Instead, he pulled the tattered blanket around his shoulders, mumbling through the pillow, "Go pester someone else…"

"Give us the dough first!"

"I'll give it to you in the morning," Eugene groaned, even though he would take every opportunity to stay away from the brothers as soon as dawn approached.

Silence enveloped Eugene, only the chirp of several crickets floating through the window. Slowly turning his head, Eugene's gaze met the brother's, both of their eyes narrowed disbelievingly.

"Ouch," Eugene replied sarcastically before turning his back to the brothers. "See ya in the morning, guys…"

Suddenly, Eugene could feel a hand grab his collar, but before he could respond, was yanked into a standing position. With an iron hold on his collar, they dragged him outside, pinning him to the stone wall outside the door. Eugene was now breathing in short, nervous breaths, his mind scrabbling to find some way to get out of this.

"The dough, ya squirt, or you wouldn't see the light of day again," Hank snarled, readying a fist. Even though they were only three years older than Eugene, thick, rippling muscles were already forming on their arms, their shoulders towering above Eugene's. Though he wasn't what one may call "skinny", his muscle mass was puny compared to the horse-like size the stabbingtons were already acquiring. Eugene closed his eyes, tensing for the shooting pain that accompanied the punch he knew was coming.

"Hand it over, kid," Hank addressed again. "Or you'll be tasting blood in a second."

Though Eugene was honestly considering emptying his pockets, he still couldn't even think of going another day without food. As if to agree, his stomach growled impatiently, reminding him that food was the basis for survival. Like a wild animal guarding a garbage can, Eugene tensed, shaking his head firmly, his eyes still tightly closed, his mouth turned down in a determined frown.

"No, Hank…"

"You'll be eating those words, you wretch! I'm gonna punch those blinkers of yours out, and you'll-" Hank spat, raising his fist higher in the air, only stopping at the explosion of noise behind his back. Hank froze in midair as the savage barking of a dog echoed loudly through the cool night air. Turning swiftly, he found a light brown dog standing behind him, fur bristled angrily. Growling from deep within his throats, the animal lunged at him with teeth bared, possessiveness evident in his movements.

"Get out of here, you dog," Hank hissed, directing a booted foot into the dog's sensitive snout.

The dog yelped as pain shot through his muzzle, but did not slink away, only hurling himself forward, flashing white teeth slapping soundlessly at the fist Hank still held over Eugene's head. He stepped away as the dog slipped between him and Eugene, the dog's fur standing vertically against his back as his lips continued to fold back in a protective, soundless snarl. Hank stepped away slightly, slowly reaching down to pick up a stone which lay on the ground. The dog only tensed, the muscles rippling in his flanks, the growl still rumbling from within his ribs. Hank eyed the dog suspiciously, but did not seem intent on leaving the stone behind. Quick as a flash, Hank snatched up the stone, aiming it straight for the dog's head. The dog, knowing that the missile was aimed at him, lunged forward with a bark. Before either could react, the wooden door of the orphanage swung open, Madame Eliza blinked into the darkness, discerning the situation immediately. With a tired sigh, she beckoned them with a wave of the hand, saying, "That's enough. Come inside…"

The stabbingtons gave Eugene and his protector one last scowl before disappearing into the building, leaving Eugene still flat against the wall. Sliding to the dirt below him, Eugene placed his head in his hands, rubbing the aggravated tears out of his eyes. This hadn't been the first time the stabbingtons had threatened him, if not gone through with those threats. They always used him to their advantage, reaping all of the rewards of his hard work. He had scars to prove that, always living in fear of what they would do next. He hated it, hated it with a passion that exceeded anything he had ever known. He hated letting someone taking advantage of him like that, always using fear to keep him compliant. He wished he could just stand up to them, tell them they would have to eat dirt before they could treat him like a puppet on a string. They would probably kill him if he said that, and that was exactly what he feared the most. He wished someone would help him, someone would help him shake them off once and for all. But, now sitting on the dusty ground in the moonlight, he realized something he had nearly forgotten. He did have someone, and even if it came in the form of a shaggy, flee-bitten mutt, that same animal had saved him from that fear that nearly became a reality. Opening his mist-rimmed eyes, the dog was lying on the ground, head resting between his paws, those melancholy eyes staring into Eugene's. As their eyes met, the dog bounded up to him, his tail wagging in happiness. He came to sit next to Eugene, his soft, pink tongue rasping Eugene's rich brown hair. His cold, damp nose nuzzled Eugene's cheek, making him laugh in response. The dog only nuzzled harder as Eugene's laughs because more and more, the canine grabbing his sleeve, pulling it playfully. The tears dried from those amber eyes as Eugene did something that he had hardly done. He laughed… And it wasn't just laughing sarcastically, or just a hollow laugh. It was real, the happiness evident in the sounds that escaped from Eugene's chest. Nothing seemed sweeter; nothing could represent the feeling of actual joy that was enveloping his heart. Eugene grabbed the dog's fur, laughing as the dog squirmed happily in his arms. The canine whined, the utter ecstasy evident in his movements. Eugene buried his head in the dog's fur, smiling as the animal rested his head on his shoulder.

"Thank you," Eugene whispered, grabbing the dog tighter as the sentence presented more meaning in his mind. "Flynn….."

^_^ I love Eugene as a little kid! Anyways, reviews would be heavenly! :)

We all know the saying, "A review a day keeps frying pan wielding authors away!"