Note: This should make everyone feel better.
Oh, yes—there are two revelations, though I may just be fooling myself that either is some big secret anymore, especially after some details of the previous chapter. And, to Jane McAvoy—I bet you've already guessed at least one of them.
Chapter Ten: Intervention
The day after her graduation, Pascal and Max began their new jobs. They came back that evening telling her that beginning Thursday, they would be on a campaign in New Jersey for a week.
"Please take care of yourself when we're away," Pascal said, a crease of worry forming on his brow.
"I'll be fine," Rapunzel said. "Whatever 'fine' is now." She turned away and slumped on the couch, not watching as her best friends exchanged concerned looks.
"Get out some," Max suggested. "Treat yourself. You'll feel better if you do."
She sighed. It probably was time for her to get out and do something. She had not had any nightcaps since moving in with them; they had strongly disapproved of it, given her emotional condition and the fact that she was obviously using it as a crutch. She decided to go out instead, as she had done on her birthday when they were out of town. Maybe, she thought, she would even meet somebody new. It had happened once before. She wondered why this thought was not actually comforting to her.
After she bade them farewell at Amtrak in Union Station Thursday night, she went not to the apartment, but to the same club that she had visited on her birthday. It was just as she remembered it, with the vividly colored flashing lights, conversation-obliterating dance music, expensive bar, and yuppie clientele. The déjà vu was so powerful, in fact, that the science fiction fan in her half wondered if she was in a time warp back to her birthday and had been given the opportunity to try this again. She chuckled to herself at the idea and ordered a drink, slumping over the bar to drink it. She wasn't really interested in anything going on around her. The idea of meeting anyone new now seemed positively repulsive to her. No one in here was remotely interesting to her. She didn't want to meet anyone new. She wanted to reconnect with somebody that she already knew, and he was not here.
She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around to face a smooth-faced young person in a polo shirt and khakis, his blond hair held perfectly in place by gel that she could see clearly. Except for the fair hair, this boy was similar enough to the one who had made fun of her dancing on her birthday that they might have been twins. They really do all look the same, Rapunzel thought wryly.
"Dance?" the boy asked.
She shook her head. He might be the exception and be nice, she supposed, but she wasn't interested. She wasn't interested in dancing with anyone except one person. Giving attentions to anyone else seemed somehow like cheating, which she knew was silly considering the current circumstances with Flynn, but she couldn't help how she felt about it. As she returned to her dejected slump and her drink, the boy quickly moved away, as if something about her was off-putting. She supposed that she probably did look like a drunk. Whatever. She didn't care.
That evening, she turned down two more offers to dance, remaining at the bar until closing time. At one o'clock, the club finally emptied. Rapunzel had no idea how many drinks she'd had. She had eaten something while the bar still served food, but that was at least three hours ago now. She was plastered. Everything seemed vaguely unreal, and she felt not entirely in control of her own body. Somehow she managed to stumble her way to the nearest Metro station.
It was closed.
She stood outside the station in the muggy air, uncomprehending. This had never happened to her before. She vaguely remembered that the trains stopped running around midnight on weekdays, and it dawned on her that of course this had never happened, because she had never been out that late during the week. She opened her purse to see how much money she still had. Apparently she would need to call a taxi. To her dismay, she had less than ten dollars in her billfold. She didn't know how much the fare would be from here to Dupont, but she had her doubts that she could pay for it, and she had no idea where the nearest ATM was. Maybe a cabdriver would take a credit card and maybe not. She wasn't sure. Taxis were expensive, and she had always been able to use the subway to get around.
Then she noticed something even worse. In going to see Max and Pascal off today, she had completely forgotten to pick up the spare apartment key that they had given her. It dangled from the keyholder next to their door this very minute. She hadn't been leaving the place, so it wasn't a habit. She thought briefly about calling the landlord, when something else occurred to her. As far as she knew, she wasn't listed on the lease. She wouldn't be allowed inside even if she did have the money to pay to get the door unlocked—which she probably did not—and if she let the landlord know that Max and Pascal were allowing her to live there, she might get them in trouble. They were in New Jersey, too, or en route, and wouldn't be back for a week.
As it slowly dawned on her how serious of a fix that she was in, she slumped against the wall, collapsing to the ground, and put her head in her hands. What had happened to her? What had happened to the responsible young woman who had escaped her half-crazy mother, made it to the nearest city, earned a scholarship to an expensive university, and taken care of herself for four years?
She considered her options. They seemed to be pretty few. She could, she supposed, get a train ticket to New Jersey on her credit card and chase after Max and Pascal, but that was a ridiculous, desperate idea. They would probably call off their own trip, even if it was part of a job, and bring her back to DC, and she couldn't stand that thought. They would surely lose a lot of respect for her if she did something like that, and that, more than anything, would be absolute proof that she was helpless.
There was another option, she thought. Possibly. At this point, she wasn't sure if it really was. She had a horrible, gnawing fear that she had pushed Flynn away one too many times and that he was well and truly finished with her, but she decided that she had to at least try. That, she recognized, was why she had come out to this particular club. She had hoped that she would see him there again. It was also why the idea of redoing everything had passed through her imagination. She would redo some things if she had the chance.
Well, the past was past, and there was no redoing anything. She would have to live with what had happened. The best she could hope for was to make something out of the present.
Taking a deep breath, she took out her phone and called him.
The last thing Flynn expected was to get a phone call at one-fifteen in the morning. He was in bed—not asleep; he was having trouble with that these days, but in bed—and generally, he didn't get phone calls anymore anyway. He knew that calls at such hours often meant that Bad Things had happened to someone close, but he didn't have any family. He wondered what on earth it could be until he saw the name of the caller. It was a name in his contacts, and seeing it sent a chill down his spine.
What happened to her that she's been driven to call me at such an hour? he thought, suddenly terrified for her. Steeling himself for something very bad, he answered the phone. "Hello?"
"Flynn?" Her voice was cracking.
"Rapunzel, are you all right?" His heart pounded with anxiety.
"I don't know," she cried, and he could tell, even over the phone, that something was wrong with her. Was she sick? No, it didn't really sound like that.
"Where are you?" he asked.
She heaved a huge, ragged breath. "I'm outside the U Street Metro. Flynn, I'm so sorry to call you at this time. I wouldn't have bothered you, but Max and Pascal are in Jersey, and they won't be back for a week, and the subway is closed for the evening—"
The torrent of words wasn't making a whole lot of sense to him. She sounded... oh. "Rapunzel, have you been drinking?" he asked suspiciously.
There was a pause. "Yeah," she admitted guiltily. "I went out, and now I can't get back in. The subway is closed, I don't have enough money for a taxi, and I don't have my key. I'm locked out." She paused again briefly before continuing. "I'm not at my old apartment. It's Pascal and Max's. I live there now because I... lost my job," she said reluctantly.
"Oh, no," Flynn said. His heart twisted in pain for her. "And you had to leave your apartment?"
"My lease ran out and I didn't want to renew it without a job," she said. "Anyway, I'm locked out, and I'm not on the lease, and—"
"I understand now," Flynn interrupted. "It's okay. I'll be right there. Don't go anywhere."
"Flynn, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry about everything."
His heart thumped as she said that. All the anger and irritation that he had felt with her after the fight, the K Street encounter, and even when she ignored his text message had melted away as she related what had happened to her. Whatever had happened between them, she had suffered a lot, and he wanted to be there right now to make it better.
"I'm sorry too, but we'll talk about that later, okay?" he said gently. "Just hold tight. I'll be over as soon as I can."
In slightly under an hour, he was driving down the street, keeping an eye out for her. Finally he approached the station and saw a small, miserable-looking figure sitting on the ground, her brunette head resting on bent knees. His heart went out to her. He edged forward slowly and rolled down the passenger-side window.
"Hey," he called out. She looked up and met his eyes. "Come on in. It's unlocked."
She got up, hobbled over, opened the door, collapsed on the seat, and closed the door behind her. At once she put her head in her hands.
"It's going to be all right," Flynn said.
She was breathing heavily, apparently trying to control her emotions. "I'm so sorry for causing you so much trouble," she said brokenly.
"It really is okay," he said as he began to drive away. "I'm just glad to see you again."
At that, she removed her hands from her eyes and looked at him. His expression was one of compassion and—dare she think it?—tenderness. She managed a weak smile. "Thanks for coming to get me," she said softly.
"I hope you didn't doubt that I would," he said.
She decided not to tell him that she had indeed doubted it. Instead she said, "It's just... after everything..."
"Hey," he said, "I said don't worry about that right now. Suffice it to say that I'm not mad at you anymore, and I'm glad that you apparently aren't mad at me. Now why don't you tell me what's happened to you? If you want to, of course," he added.
She took another deep breath. She had managed to refrain from bursting into tears, which she took to be a positive thing. It really was nice to be in Flynn's car again, sitting next to him while he drove her out to Fairfax. Maybe that was how she had avoided crying.
As she told him about everything that had happened to her since their fight, her voice wavered at several places, but she managed to keep from tearing up during the narrative. He broke in at times with expressions of anguish and sympathy for her, and when she told him about moving in with Max and Pascal, he let out a little cry of pain that she had no difficulty interpreting. When she came to the part about the nightly liquor shots to dull her feelings, he exclaimed aloud.
"Oh, Rapunzel," he cried. "That's... ugh, that can't continue. And I hate to say this, but you may be in for a rough day soon."
"What do you mean?"
He quirked a brow at her in one of his familiar mannerisms. "I mean that, since you're staying with me at least until they get back from Jersey, I'm going to dry you out. And withdrawal... well. I don't know if you'll have it or not, but if you do, it won't be fun."
"I'm staying with you until they get back from Jersey?" Her heart skipped a beat at that. That was a whole week.
"You can't get back in, you said," he said with that eyebrow still raised.
She realized that she was blushing hotly and hoped that the darkness was hiding her face. "I don't have any other clothes with me—or anything," she said.
"Well, then, we'll have to take you shopping," he said matter-of-factly.
"Flynn... I can't let you..."
They crossed into Virginia. He turned to her briefly, and even in the darkness, she could tell that he was grinning self-confidently. "You can and you will," he said. "It'll be fun."
She sighed and looked down. She wasn't exactly in a position to argue with him, and she knew it. You're lucky he came out here to get you, she thought. She sneaked a glance at him as he drove. He looked happy. He must still care about her in some way. She wasn't sure what she was going to do with that, but hopefully he wouldn't push her to a decision tonight.
Before long the car entered the City of Fairfax and pulled into the parking garage at the condo tower. He got out, opened her door, and helped her out. She immediately felt dizzy, and her stomach gave a lurch.
"Flynn," she gasped out, grabbing at her stomach.
Instinctively he grabbed her arms to steady her. "Do you need to—"
She breathed in and out deeply, trying to steady herself. As she regained her sense of balance, her stomach seemed to settle a bit. "I'm okay for now," she said. "I... I need water, though."
"Well, then, let's go inside."
Rapunzel's stomach began lurching again in the elevator, but she closed her eyes and held one of the rails for support. When they arrived at the top floor, the feeling passed. Flynn led the way to his condo, unlocked the door, and turned on the living room lights as they went inside.
Rapunzel sat down on the dark blue sectional couch, and he went into the kitchen. She was becoming a bit more sober now, and with sobriety came a great many troubling thoughts that had not occurred to her earlier. What if he had found somebody else and was just doing this out of compassion for her? She wasn't sure if she could handle that. What if he hadn't found somebody else but didn't care for her as anything but a friend anymore? That was also a possibility. What if he was, underneath the veneer of compassion and sympathy, disgusted with what he saw tonight? What if he saw her as weak and pathetic now?
He came back with a glass of cold water and a peanut butter sandwich. He sat down next to her on the couch and handed them to her. "Here," he said. "You'll feel better if you can eat something."
"Thanks," she said, taking a bite of the sandwich and washing it down with the ice water. She took another bite. Flynn put an arm around her shoulders as he watched her eat. She shivered at his touch, but he said nothing about it.
Finally, when she had only a few bites of the sandwich left, she decided that she had to say something. Her fears were gnawing at her too much for her to keep silent. "Flynn," she began. "I... I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have ignored your text. I just... I don't know. I've been so afraid."
"Afraid of what?" he asked.
She looked down, unable to meet his eyes. What could she say now? If she said "afraid you would push me into a relationship," wasn't the implication that she still didn't want one? She didn't want to immediately shoot down the idea now. She wasn't sure exactly what she was going to do, but she wanted to leave her options open—whatever they were. "Afraid... of something I shouldn't have been afraid of," she said quietly.
His eyes widened at that. "Rapunzel, maybe you should have some time to think everything over before we have that discussion... sober up and get used to being here..."
Her face fell. He didn't want to talk about it. "Is there somebody else in the picture?" she asked in a whisper, afraid to hear the answer.
He shook his head. "No," he said. "I've been by myself the whole time. It's just... you've been through hell, from the sounds of it, and I don't want you to make any major decisions now. I don't know what drove you to call me tonight, but I feel like desperation was part of it, and you don't need to decide anything if you're desperate. Especially not if you're feeling obligation," he added.
She nodded. At least the big, horrible fear was lifted now. She still wasn't sure of exactly what way that he cared for her, but the fact that he hadn't immediately told her to forget it seemed hopeful to her. He was probably right, too, about waiting, especially since she wasn't sure herself what she wanted.
"You feeling better?" he asked as she finished the last bites of the sandwich and the last sip of water. She nodded. "Then let's get you to bed." He stood up.
"I can sleep right here," she said, unable to look at him.
He shook his head, smiling ruefully at her. "You don't need to think you're unwelcome," he said. "Also, you've been lonely, haven't you?"
She finally met his eyes and nodded. "I've missed you," she managed to get out.
"I've missed you too," he said. "Come here. I bet I know what you need." He held out his arms.
With an invitation like that, she couldn't resist. She stood up and folded herself into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. At once she felt his enclose her and his head lean on top of hers. She wanted to let out a giggle of happiness. It felt so nice to be held again. She recalled for a moment that Max and Pascal hugged her too, but this was different. And in any case, they didn't stand there holding her wordlessly for several minutes as warmth radiated over her body.
"Thanks so much," she finally whispered into his chest.
"You're welcome," he said, releasing her. He gave her a smile. "Come on, let's get ready. You need some sleep." Keeping a hand on her back, he walked with her into his bedroom. The bed was pretty big, she noticed, probably a king size. He strode over to his chest of drawers, opened one, and took out a big T-shirt and a pair of shorts with a drawstring. "These would be more comfortable to sleep in, if you want to change," he said, gesturing at the bathroom.
She blushed as she accepted the clothes. The idea of wearing clothes that he had worn was very embarrassing to her, for some reason, but what choice did she have? Her skinny jeans and tight top would be uncomfortable to sleep in, and she knew he was offering her the clothes as a kindness. She couldn't turn them down. She quickly turned aside, dashed into the bathroom, and emerged wearing the loose, comfortable clothes. He had already unmade the bed and was sitting in it in his own nightclothes, the sheets pulled up to his waist. Hesitantly she got under the covers.
He reached out, turned off the bedside lamp, and said in a gentle tone, "Good night." She felt the mattress move as he sank into his pillow.
She was asleep before long, comforted by the nearness and the knowledge that, while she was not exactly sure of everything about the situation with him, at least they were on good terms again and he had apparently forgiven her. He stayed awake a bit longer, enjoying the sound of her breathing as it became regular and the feel of her lying nearby. When he was sure that she was asleep, he leaned over and kissed her lightly on top of the head.
The next morning, Rapunzel awoke to a cool, cloudy day and muted daylight. She did not immediately remember where she was or what had happened. Flynn was still asleep. As she became aware of his presence, it came back to her. She remembered what had happened now, and she looked over at his peaceful face and smiled.
Her movement was enough to wake him. He began to move too, yawning as he woke up. "Good morning," he mumbled. He rolled over on his back. "How are you feeling?"
"My head hurts a little," she admitted.
"Maybe some breakfast would help," he suggested.
"Okay."
They stumbled into the kitchen. Rapunzel wanted to help him, but he chuckled as he took out some frozen waffles and stuck them in the toaster. "I don't think your assistance is required with something this simple," he said with a wink.
She smiled and sat down at the table. When the waffles were ready, he brought them out on plates, along with the syrup bottle, a bottle of orange juice, and two cups. "There's also coffee ready in the machine. I set the timer last night before you called me. I don't have any creamer, though—just regular milk."
"It'll work," she said.
After breakfast, they carried their coffee mugs into the living room and sat down on the couch. Rapunzel felt an unfamiliar urge building in her. She wanted to reach over, throw herself on him, and embrace him for hours. However, he wasn't making any moves on her or even bringing up the topic of a romantic relationship, so she wasn't going to follow the urge. If he didn't feel that for her now... the thought made her ache, but she wasn't going to attack him like that without knowing.
Flynn sipped his coffee, unaware of the struggle taking place inside the person sitting next to him. He set the empty mug down on one of the side tables and turned to her. "Well," he said, "I think I promised to take you clothes shopping. If you feel all right, we can do that today."
She chuckled. "I do feel all right," she said, "but, Flynn, I have my credit card with me. I only left the keys behind."
He shook his head. "I want to do something for you."
"You already have."
"I gave you shelter when you needed it. That's not exactly the kind of thing I mean."
She pursed her lips, but she could not hide the grin. "You are so stubborn!" she exclaimed.
He smirked. "So are you. But, as you're in my home right now, my stubbornness is going to win out this time."
She sighed and slumped her shoulders. Something about this really was bothering her. It was an old concern she'd had about him, and now it was surfacing again.
He noticed her change from frivolity to graveness. "What's wrong?" he asked.
She bit her lip. She wished he hadn't asked her this; she did not want to start off with him again by immediately complaining about him. But she supposed that if she didn't voice this concern now, it would start to fester again. "I just feel kind of uncomfortable when you spend money on me," she said, making sure to make eye contact. "I feel like... like I'm being lobbied." She looked apologetically at him.
He gaped. "Rapunzel!" he exclaimed. "Did that bother you all along? I'm not trying to bribe or extort you. I never was." His face was contorted with pain. "I..." He sighed and rubbed his forehead. He seemed to be steeling himself to say something, and she waited patiently. "I never really did anything for anyone just to make them happy. I made all this money, expecting to keep it to myself and use it for my own pleasures, but..." He was very sheepish-looking now. "It didn't quite work out that way," he finished. "I want you to enjoy it too. You're the first person I've wanted to do that for, so please let me."
Tears were forming in her eyes. She let out a single happy laugh. "I understand," she said. "It was a stupid, cynical thing to think. I'm sorry."
He shook his head. "I'm sorry for ever doing things that put the idea into your head as a possibility," he said regretfully. He got up from the couch and lifted out a hand to her, pulling her up as well. "Come on," he said. "If it makes you feel better, you can pick the store, and I won't argue. Now let's get ready."
Before long they were on the road. Flynn raised an eyebrow at her as they passed by a strip mall filled with designer outlets, but she shook her head at once. He kept going, raising an eyebrow again at Macy's, but she shook her head again. Finally she pointed at Target. "There," she said.
He chuckled and pulled into the parking lot. "I was afraid you were going to pick the thrift store, and then I'd have to go back on my promise not to argue."
Rapunzel laughed. "There's nothing wrong with thrift stores! I have some things from there that I cut up and reworked. I didn't want to do that with new stuff."
"You altered your own clothes," he said in disbelief.
"Well, yeah," she said. "It's a way to create your own styles."
"You'll have to show them to me sometime," he said. "You're amazingly artistic, you know that?"
She looked down, but she could not hide the smile.
Later, they returned to the condo with three new outfits and some extra underwear. She was feeling very happy about the trip. There was something so normal, domestic even, about going shopping together for something ordinary like clothes. She really liked doing "normal" things with him. It made her feel comfortable and relaxed around him.
She put away the shopping bag and went out to the living room. They sat down on the couch. He seemed to want to talk at last.
"Rapunzel," he began hesitantly, "first of all, I still don't think it's time to have the discussion you wanted to have last night—if you remember?"
"I do remember," she said, looking down and coloring.
"But there's something I need to say."
"Oh?"
"When you saw me on K Street that day, I had just had an interview with my old employer. My first one. As I told you, I didn't get the job," he said. "I think they could tell I didn't really want it."
That startled her. "You didn't want it? Then why did you try to get it?"
He chuckled darkly. "Rapunzel, I've had absolutely nothing to do for quite a few months now. I needed to do something with myself, and let's face it, manipulating politicians for money is the only job I know how to do."
She winced. "Oh, surely that's not true," she said. "Surely you haven't always wanted to do this... have you? I mean... it's not exactly a typical thing for a boy to want to do."
"Oh, yeah, I wanted to do something else as a kid," he said bitterly. "And there's part of me that wishes I'd pursued it, but it's so unrealistic. It's on a par with kiddie dreams of being an astronaut or something. Or hiding in the woods."
"But some people do become astronauts," she said. "What was it, Flynn?"
He looked sheepishly at her. "I... wanted to write."
Her mouth dropped open. Things he had said, tiny references that she'd thought nothing about at the time, suddenly flooded her mind. A writing notebook that he brought to the mountains when he camped out. Locking himself in his room to read and write. A degree in political science and English literature. Being a connoisseur of sci-fi and making recommendations to her. And... working for a publishing industry lobbying firm. Suddenly it hit her exactly why he had been so bitter about what the publisher they lobbied for wanted to do. It was personal that that publisher wanted royalty rates lowered, he had said. That was why.
"Of course! I should've known," she exclaimed. "But why don't you do it? You can afford to devote all your time to it, I'd think. What's stopping you?"
"I haven't written a solitary thing in years, that's what."
"Then you get back in practice."
He sighed, ran his hands through his hair, and rested his head in his palms. "I'll think about it," he finally said. "That's all I can say for now."
She nodded. It was better than nothing. "Okay," she said.
They sat there in a pleasant silence for a while. Rapunzel thought about what she had just heard. This was definitely the side of him that she liked—the side that had appeared from time to time when they were together. She had a feeling that he really did want to do this, too, a lot more than he ever wanted to be in politics, and wondered exactly why he had gotten into that in the first place. It must have been that idealism that she had long suspected had once been there—before it was betrayed over and over in the line of work that he took on.
"There's something else," he said, breaking the silence. "I wanted to say it that night. I wanted to take it back as soon as it left my mouth, but... Anyway, I'm really sorry for saying that about your mother. It was out of line."
She sighed and kept her gaze on her lap. "And I'm sorry for slapping you," she said.
"I deserved it for that."
"No, you didn't." She took a deep breath. "I've thought about it, and... I think you were right, to an extent. She didn't want me to grow up. She didn't want me to be independent or have my own identity."
"Rapunzel—" Pain was spreading over his face at her words.
"No, it's okay," she said with another sigh.
Compassion was radiating out of his eyes as he looked at her. "Maybe you should fly up there and talk with her," he suggested. "I'll come along if you want me. It might help you make peace with your relationship with her."
She looked down, suddenly absolutely ashamed of herself. She was still hiding something big from him. If they were going to resume their friendship—especially if that friendship became something else—then the subject would eventually come up. That was ultimately what the fight had been about, and his apology for his last comments had not even touched the primary issue relating to her mother.
She took a deep breath, gathering her courage. "I can't."
"Why not?"
She took another deep breath. "I should have told you a long time ago, and I'm so sorry I didn't. Flynn..." Say it, Rapunzel, she thought. It happened, so say it. "She died."
His eyes popped. He reached over to put a hand on her shoulder as sympathy and shock overspread his face. "Rapunzel—"
"She did it when I was eighteen," she said, choking up. "My first year of college. She committed suicide, and she... she destroyed the whole house, Flynn."
He pulled her close, patting her on the back as she cried. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Was that... what you painted?"
"Uh-huh," she managed to say through sobs. "She burned it down. I never saw it, I was gone by then, but... Flynn, there was nothing left. And it was my fault for leaving her. She couldn't handle—"
"No, it wasn't," he said firmly. "Nobody ever does that unless they're sick. Mentally ill. It was not your fault that she did that. Most people do not kill themselves when their kids go away to school, or anything else."
"She needed me," Rapunzel said insistently. "I never knew my dad. He was killed in an accident when I was a baby. We used to go to his grave every year on the day that it happened and put flowers there. She needed me... she was always so afraid I would leave her like he did... and I did. I let her down."
"She needed help," Flynn said. "More than you could have given her. I understand this better now. She wanted to believe she could freeze time, didn't she? That's why she didn't want you to grow up, I bet. If she could just keep everything the same, then she thought nothing like that would happen."
Rapunzel sobbed into his chest. "That's probably it," she agreed through tears.
"You know," he said gently, "I think you were right all along. I think she did love you in her own way. But she was sick, and that is not your fault." He gave her a squeeze. "My original offer still holds. Do you think it would help you to fly up there with me and visit her grave?"
Rapunzel considered. "There was no funeral," she said quietly. "There wasn't any money left over, and she destroyed everything in the fire. She bought two plots when my dad died, and that's all she had. I didn't go. I was in school, and it was just... I haven't really been able to accept it even after three years," she said, looking at him with wide eyes. "There's something so unreal about it still, and there was a part of me that wouldn't accept it without seeing. That's how I coped, I think, and I think that's why I didn't ever tell you. I'm so sorry."
"Then you do need to go," he said. "I really think it'll help you find peace to go there and visit it."
She nodded silently. "You're probably right," she said in a soft voice.
End Note: I know some of you might have wanted them to instantly get together, but they were in a very bad place, and it didn't seem realistic to me.
Also, so that nobody expects something that isn't going to happen, in this AU, she was her mother. That's not quite all there is to the story, but I think "secret parents" would just be too much in this fic.