Disclaimer: I do not own Tangled. I own a keyboard, some tea, and... A monkey slave. No, I wish though, he'd probably be able to secure the rights of Tangled for me or something, ya know? Monkeys have their ways and shit.

A/N: Have I already said bad words in this fiction yet? I don't remember. However, there is the word FUCK in this story, and if that offends you... Then, I probably shouldn't have put it in capital letters. But I write with said words occasionally - and if I'm taking a more real life perspective on this I do believe that Flynn would be the more vulgar type. I promise not to abuse swear words, you have my word (this isn't FMA, and Flynn's no Edward Elric, if anyone understands that).

Also, I spelled Flynn's last name wrong like a million and one times. Even though I like it better spelled with two "y"s, he's not Lynyrd Skynyrd, and that just isn't canon. So I apologize. (It may be a while before I actually go back and fix it though, because I'm terribly lazy.)

Props to everyone who tried their hand at guessing what the hell was going through Flynn's mind back there. I think only... Like... Two people were right, but there were, kinda, sorta multiple answers... So that's probably why. And thanks for all the reviews! You guys are awesome :)

Inimical

When he awoke, Flynn was gone entirely.

A defense mechanism of sorts, most likely, that Flynn would flee when the situation got too taxing, too personal for him to handle. The only problem was that he really was Flynn, and Eugene couldn't hold everything together for him forever.

His eyes darted beneath his closed eyelids and his fingers grappled lithely at the cloth encompassing his fingertips. Flynn had instincts, purely autoschediastical things, that he had acquired from a variety of sources. Eugene, though, had a different set of acquired senses, ones learned by trial and error, taught by fear, and enforced by punishment. Flynn had these as well, but he thought not of where they originated from, simply thanked his blessings that he be gifted with natural talents of the sort.

These, however, were the calm, omniscient thoughts of a middle man: an overseer who guided Flynn and Eugene and tried his damndest to do something about all of this. This huge mess that everything had somehow escalated into.

As we already know, however, when he awoke, Flynn was gone entirely.

Three

Eugene

Eugene's eyes darted beneath his closed eyelids and his fingers grappled lithely at the cloth encompassing his fingertips.

He inhaled silently, catching only a passing aroma of books, of paint, of tea, and of...

...Rapunzel.

His eyes snapped open, pupils dialating and then shrinking rapidly against the harsh burn of the sudden illumination. He was lying in her bed, in her chambers, and she was lying beside him. Fast asleep, he noted, before noticing the stain of tear tracks trailing down the planes of her cheeks. Why was he here? Why had she been crying?

Only flashes of memories from the night before could reach his mind. He had left his room, intent on something. Had it been escape? He had been running, surely, but had it been to her? Go ahead and TRY! Do it! Then there was fire, and there was a book (filled with tales of a certain Flynnigan Rider no doubt...), there was her: Rapunzel, asking "Eugene? What's the matter? Eugene? Eugene!", there was the a rush of naseau that must have overwhelmed him and... No, he couldn't work it out, everything was too ambiguous, already the memories were taking on the hazy sheen of a dream-like quality. They lingered in the back of his mind in horrifying fits of pressure, but they could not be figured, there was too much white noise all throughout his brain, drowning out all the individual insignifigants. Moments later, all that there was was Eugene Fitzherbert, lying in bed with the Princess Rapunzel.

He decided that it would be almost criminal of him to wake her slumbering form, as she looked so angelic and peaceful where she lay. (If his vague memories were accurate, she must have been in some sort of distress, and was no doubt exhausted.) So he rose from the mattress with as much stealth as he could manage, not a single sound escaping the creak of his joints or the bending of springs beneath his weight. He was an expert on things of this caliber. He could brush her teeth without her noticing, most likely, if only he were quiet enough. He could have been.

It seemed that rising to his feet had not been the best decision on his part, as a wave of vertigo so strong that he instantly stumbled swept over him the moment his spine had straightened itself out. "Fuck!" He ground out, biting back the audible bits of the word in alarm after realizing his mistake, and swallowing hard in the hopes that he had stifled his outburst properly. Hand on the nightstand and attempting to steady himself, he chanced a look back at the sleeping blonde, she had not stirred, and he heaved a sigh of relief. His Rapunzel was a sound sleeper, something he likely would never be able to understand - for he had never truly slept soundly in all his twenty-two years - a direct result of the safety that had always encompassed her life. He envied her for it, in a way. Not for the tower that had kept her away from the world, of course, but for the pain that it spared her. He would never wish cruelty upon her.

His eyes darted swiftly to the large window adorning her far wall, taking in the sight of the sun as it rose over the edges of the kingdom. It was such a beautiful view, but...

He didn't have long until her chamber-maids and attendants came to begin readying her for the day. With a scowl on his face, he moved across her floor silently, Rapunzel's life had been insanely busy and overloaded since she had become princess. (It was such a stark contrast to how her life had been for the first eighteen years, he wondered how she handled it at all. Then again, maybe she didn't.) He didn't necessarily enjoy it one bit. If it was up to him, they'd just blow this joint, get the hell away from all the priss and perfection and find themselves somewhere nice to... Adventure together.

His wanderlust was screaming at him, rattling his brain. Don't you dare settle down! Inception, clearly, ideas that he felt deep within the confines of his brain. Like claws. You're not meant for this life. Leave. Leave.

He felt like running.

He froze, another memory rushing back to him like the clearest of skies on a bright summer day. His feet had stilled before the long vanity opposite Rapunzel's bed and he watched his reflection as it stilled and then ceased movement all together. He stared into his own dark eyes and felt something very akin to fear wash over him. Like winter, it creeped beneath his skin, branching out with a spidery web of despair and crawling through his nerves. There was a harsh burn behind his eyes, a feeling he vaguely recognized, but it was foreign all the same, as if his sinuses had all seized up and were folding in on themselves, rolling into a tight ball of deception. He was so cold, so suddenly, that he shivered with the feeling of it, watching as the tremor worked its way rapidly up the contours of his form. He shook.

Why was this happening? Why now?

"Eugene?" It was a soft, fleeting voice that permeated his treacherous thoughts. The memories that were threatening to wash over him in a tsunami of fear halted abruptly, he had his priorities straight, it seemed, unconciously... Somewhere. His shoulders stiffened regardless, and he turned to her as slowly as he could manage without arousing some sort of suspicion. If it was at all possible, he would like to dissuade her from concern.

"Hey Blondie," he responded, feigning enthusiasm came so naturally to him that it would have been a shock - if it had not been so damn natural, "mornin'. How are you feeling?"

Her large green eyes simply regarded him for a few, agonizingly long seconds, before they widened slightly in disbelief. She was erect in her - oversized, naturally - bed the next moment, gaping openly at him in a way that left every emotion she felt so readable in her face that it temporarily blinded him. She was so expressive. "How am I feeling? How am I feeling?"

"Yeah," he snorted in a gentle tease, flashing her a grin, his nerves beating hard against his bones, "That's what I asked. Sure you shouldn't sleep in for a little while, sunshine?"

"Eugene." She chided, but sounded entirely more serious than he would have preferred. Before she had the opportunity to speak again, he was already off like a rocket.

"... So I was just thinking that I'd better be up and out of here soon. While I don't doubt you and your lovely servants would love the company of real, macho hero and damsel-rescuer like me, I do doubt that they would be too pleased about me being around while they're changing your clothes and prettying you up. It's probably dreadfully boring anyway, and I've got some pretty exciting things planned out for today. I have to get an early start or there's really no point in - Hey, Blondie, have you been electrocuted lately? You're hairs looking pretty... Anway -"

"Eugene!" She interrupted him with a stomp of her foot, and his eyes followed the curve of her body down to the currently offending appendage, bare, as she liked it -she had just been sleeping, but he preferred to think that she would appreciate her scantily clad feet to her new, difficult-to-walk-in-let-alone-wear-and-entirely-too-fancy-to-even-be-practical shoes, and this was because she did. "Stop it!"

With a start, he realized that she was close to tears. Her voice was breaking and the concern was so thick and interlacing within her words that it threatened to spill over the side at any moment. That feeling came back again, the one that pricked behind his eyes and beneath his cheekbones, the one that burned intensely in a sense that he could not even begin to recognize. Distress overcame him, and he huffed out a exhale of shock before drawing in an inhale of worry. Three steps and he was across the room, Rapunzel nestled safely in his arms, her small hands clinging desperately to the collar of his shirt and her cheek pushed hard again the planes of his chest. He moved his nose into the column of her neck, burying his face there and breathing again, this time breathing in only her, and feeling, albeit only slightly, better.

"Don't be upset," he cooed gently, into her ear, "I'm sorry. What's got you so riled up?"

"Eugene!" Her whisper was a hiss of misunderstood fury, directionless, a lost accusation, "You scared me. You came to my room in the middle of the night last night, and you were saying the oddest things. You were running a fever and sweating and then all the sudden you just fainted, right there in the doorstep. I didn't know what to do."

Amidst the weight of all these things that he had to deal with, somehow, he found it appropriate to say, "How in the world did you manage to drag me into bed with you?"

Rapunzel's chuckle was wet, and Flynn's heart broke a little at the sound. Oh lord, he was sorry. As long as she didn't cry he would be anything. "Stop it," her hand batted against his chest, with no real conviction, "and you were heavy."

"I'm very impressed."

He was a sap, that was what he was.

Picking roses, it was ridiculous, but the only thing that he could think of to properly apologize for worrying her so much this morning. (Though he honestly couldn't even remember what had happened himself. He couldn't even remember what had instigated the fear that had gripped him before her vanity, that had made him stop in his tracks and be caught by her awakening form. He just couldn't remember.) He was not terribly concerned over what had occurred the night before. He had fainted. Okay. Those things happened occasionally.

It had happened to him a lot when... After...

That wasn't a path he wanted to tread right now, actually, and with a shake of his head he attempted to dispel the memories. He had to focus on what he was doing right now.

He was picking flowers for Rapunzel, because he was a jackass and had made her worry her pretty little head off until she cried.

He was a sap, that was what he was.

"Ouch," he muttered, glaring at the rose bush that he had brushed up against, before scowling angrily at the small red line of a cut that had made its presence known upon the back of his arm. He strained his neck to see the reach of it, and thumbed it harshly with a hiss.

Rapunzel better like these.

A/N: A huh, so, awkward ending for this... But, I just couldn't squeeze anything else out of that snippet and I felt like... I needed to... I'm not sure. But I updated all the same and that was on my list of goals for today. Thus, I digress...