Hi ppls! D'aww, I wuv your reviews, they make me smile, bunny-hop, and chicken-dance! XD So here's the next chapter. I normally don't enjoy fillers, but I had to do this one, ya know? I promise, starting from the next chappy, things will start to pick up. Please let me know what you think.

BTW, an answer for your question: Why is Flynn still Flynn and not Eugene?

Well, if you recall, Flynn and Rapunzel managed to NOT get trapped in a flooding cave, so Flynn doesn't get a chance to tell her his real name. But you can start to see some Eugene leaking out, so he's starting to like Rapunzel as a friend only. Sorry if I didn't make this clear! :)

Okay, you people know the drill. Read, review, and tell me how to improve! :D

O*O*O

Try as he might, Flynn Rider can't get back to his old life. Oh, he's tried. He's hunted around (halfheartedly) for the Stabbingtons, swiped a few gold watches and a necklace from a jewelry store, and picked a pocket or two in the marketplace. He even climbed up onto the palace roof and played a couple pranks on a few idle guards, including dropping spiders on them and sneaking into their dressing rooms and painting a few breastplates pink.

A few weeks ago – actually, not even a few weeks. A few days ago, he might have burst a gut laughing at the expressions on those guards' faces when they discovered frilly lace on their helmets, but just then, he'd only managed a light chuckle.

He almost feels scared. Stealing has been his life for eight years, and he's gotten so good that he can rob the Holy Father of his underdrawers. But now, he's stopped being amused by it. In fact he feels… guilty?

About seven years ago, he learned the art of not letting guilt burden you. How? By convincing yourself there's nothing to feel sorry about. But now, all this guilt, all these crimes he's committed, have all jumped on his back and burdened his conscience to the point of it breaking.

He dismisses all this as… uh. What can he dismiss this as?

He brings a lock of hair to his mouth and nibbles it absently before realizing that Flynn Rider does NOT nibble at his own hair. Plus, he just finger-combed it. He sighs and shifts his weight, and from his height in this oak tree he can almost see the soft gray of a certain rock wall peeking up over the trees.

He looks away, determined not to let his thoughts turn to a certain girl with seventy feet of golden hair.

Flynn has always been isolated, alone, and aloof, and he likes it that way. Or, at least, he used to. Something in him feels different, and he's not sure whether it's because of relief that his satchel is finally safe in his own hands – or because of Blondie.

To his utter dismay, the latter seems to be it.

What he knows for sure is that the past few days can safely be called the most interesting (for lack of a better word) he's ever lived through. In fact, can you call being knocked out by a frying pan, getting a frog tongue in your ear, being tied to a chair with hair in a seventy-foot-tall hidden tower, and going on a road trip to see the annual lantern release with an eighteen-year-old girl anything less than extraordinarily, impossibly, and thoroughly interesting?

His answer… well, he doesn't dwell on it. Suffice to say that when he dropped that extraordinary girl back in her tower, he felt… bad. Like he'd just left her in the tower like a prisoner.

He slaps a hand to his forehead and lets out a groan before realizing that he's out in the woods in the middle of the day, and that both the guards and the Stabbington brothers are after him. Best to think of topics that don't involve the tower, the lanterns, or Blondie so he doesn't do anything stupid.

Yeah, that works.

And speaking of Stabbington brothers… Flynn scowls at the satchel slung over his shoulder. He shouldn't have split up with those lugs. Even though they lack brains, they make up for it with brawn. They also have anger issues – when somebody makes them mad, they go to drastic measures to make the offender pay.

In this case, Flynn is the offender, and he can only imagine what sort of brutal punishment the brothers have in mind for him.

Well, you've escaped them before. You can dupe them any time you need to. You're pretty much safe,he reminds himself. Besides, who's gonna stop me if I want to sell this crown for a thousand gold pieces?

(Flynn! no!) his inner 'softie' wails. Flynn knows, however, that the little voice inside him is much more than just a noisemaker. It's a person, locked away deep down, and there is no way Flynn is letting that pansy out of his cage.

Yeah? Try and stop me!

(You wouldn't… that crown is all the king and queen have left of their daughter!)

So?

And Flynn winces at his own thoughts, which are getting out of control. He's not part of this battle; he's an onlooker (or an onlistener, whatever you call it) and he can't stop his two sides from duking it out. All he can do is listen, mortified, to how intense and angry his thoughts can be.

If they love that crown so much, they should've taken better care of it, his darker side snaps.

(Yes, but -)

Hey. When you're careless with things you love – Flynn tightens his grip on the satchel – you don't deserve to keep them.

Both voices fizzle out, and Flynn blinks. His head hurts, and he suspects that his guilty conscience's burden just got even worse. It doesn't seem fair that he can't control his own thoughts. Sometimes, for instance, he'll look at his reflection in a pond or whatever and see exactly what he wants to see – a handsome young rouge who is as cunning as he is charming. Other days, he sees himself as a combination of colors – brown hair, amber eyes, and sun-darkened skin, and he doesn't see a person looking back at him. It's so confusing, and it's at times like this, when both his good and dark sides clash, he feels like a shell. A hollow, empty shell with cracks and scars from blows struck long ago.

Shut up, he tells himself, tugging at his hair until it hurts. He slides out of the tree, landing with barely a sound on the grass. He reaches into his satchel and pulls out the crown, holding it up so that the sunlight passes through the big diamond on top, splashing the ground with tiny rainbows.

Tomorrow, he decides. Tomorrow, this thing is going on the market.

After all, his dark side is right. When you're careless with things you love, you don't deserve to keep them.

But then –

"RIDER!" a voice bellows, startling Flynn out of his thoughts. He whirls around and sees a group of men mounted on gallant horses. The men have crossbows at their sides, and their armor flashes in the sun. The man in front is familiar, only this time, his armor is pink, and his horse is a fierce-looking black one, instead of white.

Royal guards.

Oh, cra…

O*O*O

Heehee! Oo, Flynn's got a grumpy side… this is making me think of Star Wars, for some reason. :-/

Side note: Flynn's 'good' side is actually Eugene… just in case. See! Y'all get some Eugene early on! And one heck of a mean side, for that matter… o_O

If you have any ideas on how I can improve, please let me know. :)

Peace!

Silverbells