I wrote this for a contest a while back, and I decided that I might as well post it up here. I've done a bit of adjusting, but not much. Wanted to post this, as my little sisters are currently watching Tangled 5 feet away from me.

It's a character study of Flynn, as I was prompted to do. I think it turned out pretty well… after all, I won 1st place and a keychain, haha.

The first thing that truly struck him about his situation was not that the bars of the cell had never been chipped away at or that the stones beneath him were impossible to budge, but that couldn't see the opposite shore of the bay from his window. There was the courtyard that he had raced through once and the smaller, less affluent part of town that spread out past the castle walls, but a fine mist hung over the water like thickly wrapped gauze, blocking his view. Was she still there? What if she escaped and was waiting for him? Worse still, what if she hadn't escaped and was still with the Stabbington brothers? Or, if she escaped but found herself in the middle of nowhere, without a friend in the world…

The cuffs around his wrists pinched awkwardly at his skin as his grip on the iron bars slipped downwards. He shook his head. She was resourceful and capable. She could make friends, if she needed to. Honestly, despite his completely valid distaste for blondie's totally overbearing mother, Rapunzel was a remarkably well adjusted person, for someone who had grown up without friends, family or basic socialisation with normal, sane beings.

The frog didn't count.

No, blondie would be fine, he expected. She'd throw her magic hair over one shoulder and fight for her freedom and wellbeing with the closest kitchen implement to hand, if she felt she had to. She had spirit. She had guts. That was what he liked about her.

Liked.

"Past tense already, Eugene?" he found himself muttering, "that's pretty pessimistic of you. No reason to be so down on yourself. It's still early in the game…"

His eyes flicked over the town with little interest as he did his best to twist each bar in turn, as if it might unscrew or detach itself. If only he could slither out… He could go find Rapunzel. He could figure out if she was safe and endure whatever blunt force trauma that she felt he deserved before she gave him a chance to explain and then- well, then they could go on adventures together. She wouldn't have to go back to that stupid tower ever again, he was sure of it-

It was funny, how deserted the town below him seemed when it had been teeming with life and laughter and love just the afternoon before. Probably because she had been there with him. In fact, the entire town seemed to be either sleeping off a hangover or… Movement in the courtyard below him caught his eye and he ceased in his restless twisting and pulling at the bars to investigate.

The people were filing in and milling about whilst the gallows were being prepared.

He began to yank even harder at the bars, unable to tear his eyes away from the men that were busy checking the strength of three different ropes and investigating the lever for the trap door.

This was awfully inconvenient.

He kicked at the wall, distributed the weight of his body onto each stone tile beneath him in the hopes that it might give way and, finally, he began to wish for a pen and a sheet of paper.

He'd escape. Of course he would escape. Flynn Rider always escaped. That was the only thing in his job description. 'Escape'. And, perhaps, 'don't get caught', but it was a little late for that.

The only problem was that the guards had not captured the fearless, dashing Flynn Rider- thief extraordinare and beloved by all.

They had captured Eugene Fitzherbert. And Eugene Fitzherbert was not fearless or dashing. Eugene Fitzherbert hated snakes. Eugene Fitzherbert had allergies.

Worst of all, Eugene Fitzherbert had begun to accept that he was probably going to die. That wasn't something that Flynn would ever do, but that didn't matter for much longer. Eugene paced back and forth, hating the clinking of those stupid manacles and growing all the more frantic for the not so distant rumble of conversations outside of his window. He wasn't even going to find a wadded up napkin to write his letter to Rapunzel on, never mind a functioning pen. How was she going to know the truth- how he was set up, how he had tried to give the crown off to the Stabbington brothers, how he had already decided on the things that he wanted to show her beyond the border of this land. He had wondered if she would like to see the rock pools on the coast or the low valleys in the east.

He had wanted to know her better.

At the absolute least, he had wanted to apologise- and to thank her for the past few days, if he couldn't even do that.

However, just as he stooped to scratch words into a mud-caked tile, his door rattled open. The guards didn't think much of hauling him away from where he had huddled against the wall- although he could tell that they had expected more from the great Flynn Rider. More, at least, than for him to pull desperately in the direction of a scrawled love letter that had been partially scraped into the prison dirt and signed, still unfinished, by Eugene.