a/n: one more chap after this and then an epilogue, for all those wondering. thank you for the reviews! i realize the last chapter was confusing, and it was mainly just a stylistic choice-trying something new and all that.
thank you to: PampleMousse07, Alice, TangledGirlForever, Romance and Musicals, and Anonymous Duo :) you guys are amazing, thank you again!
i got one completely anonymous review-thank you, as well. in regards to your question it was the Stabbington brother with the eye-patch who fell, and he broke his neck. Bastion was stabbed.
i also would quickly like to address a review i got from the anonymous 'Angered'. it reads: "if rapunzel ends up with bastion, i swear to god i will kill you."
i read this review and was shocked by its apparent vehemence-it's not constructive criticism or a question. i don't want to discourage reviews, and i guess i should be happy that someone was so involved in the plot as to feel this way, but this review shocked me; i'd rather hear honest opinions on the character of Bastion himself or on the story in general, not statements involving your apparent hatred for my one OC who ends up dying. i think i made it apparent from the get go that Rapunzel did not reciprocate Bastion's infatuation.
sorry, i don't mean to be a finicky writer. i do appreciate all reviews.
but now, carry on.
The silence is so thick it's painful. It's sudden and abrupt and tangible in the small space. He hunkers up from his lean over his attacker and his face is smeared with red drops, his hands sticky with blood. He backs away. In the flicker of the fire he gleams like a candle; when he turns his head slowly he spies the second Stabbington brother splayed out upon the dark, hardwood floor. His neck is twisted at an unnatural angle. His eye is closed, but his mouth is not.
Flynn hears a stifled little gasp and turns; for a moment he thinks Rapunzel is staring aghast at him, at his killing, at his deeds—just at him in general—but then he sees her eyes are staring up and over his shoulder. He back-steps, nearly tripping over the puppet-like body of the one-eyed brother in his haste to see what upset her. He cranes his neck, tries to get a glimpse through the small gaps between the floorboards, and is about to ask when a single red drop splashes against his forehead.
The blood runs in a little rivulet down past his eye, like a tear.
"Don't look," he turns abruptly to her, whispers it like a prayer, but she's seen it already and she's crying. Behind her the old witch of a woman is smiles smugly, cruelly. As Rapunzel tramples roughly over the mirror shards in her haste to get towards the stairs Gothel bites out caustically, "No, dear, by all means look. Look at what you have caused."
The words are bullets to her, he can tell. She staggers a bit, as her feet scrape and bleed against the floor, but he sidesteps and cuts her off before she reaches the stairs. He grabs her upper arms, and the bare of her flesh is sweaty and hot beneath him, incredibly thin. "No." He says, and his voice is louder than before. "No, Rapunzel."
"He needs me." Her voice is a breath and he almost looses it in the small space between them, because Gothel has begun to laugh uncontrollably near the window and the fire is beginning to pop and crackle in rage. "He needs me, that's Bastion, he helped me—"
"You can't help him now." He bends down until he is looking into her clear green eyes. "You can't help him now, Rapunzel. He's gone."
She flinches and then her mouth sets in an angry frown and she says, "Let me go, Eugene, let me go, let me go—" she begins to beat her fists against his arms, his chest, anything she can reach, but he doesn't do as she asked. "I need to get to him, I can heal him—let. Me. Go!" She punctuates each word with a punch, only they are feather light; suddenly she is crying again, harder, and he just sort of shrugs closer to her until she is sobbing quietly against his chest, just below his chin. His arms wrap around her body, and he shouldn't be happy but he is, damn it, because he finally just is here, with her, and she's safe.
"I can heal him." She repeats again. "I can heal him."
"He's in a better place." He whispers into the top of her head and it sounds empty and false to his own ears. Many people have told him that over the years. He's heard it about friends and parents and former loved ones and business partners—he knows it doesn't help but it's all he can think of to say.
He's so absorbed he doesn't notice it right away. The faint glow, the crackle of the air like electricity—suddenly the golden waterfall spanning out behind Rapunzel is ablaze and Gothel's laughter has stopped. When he looks up it's too late.
Gothel stands as she had before, by the window. She's stroking the end of Rapunzel's hair like one would stroke a pet; she has part of it looped over her arm like a scarf. When she smiles it's sharp as a sword. Her hair falls brown and youthful around her deep, black eyes.
"Compassionate to a fault, my flower." She stands out pale against the night background and the orange of the fire casts strange shadows beneath her eyes. "Yet all of this could have been avoided if you had only stayed put."
He steps between the girl and the mother. He wishes he had had the foresight to pull the sword out of the brother he killed. It's too far off to reach, now, but he shouldn't need it.
He's Flynn Rider. Eugene Fitzherbert. Whatever. He thinks he could take the old-now-young lady in a fight.
But he doesn't doubt that she has something up her sleeve.
"I think the one we should be blaming here is you," he shrugs callously and inches to the right. "After all, you had the foresight to hire me."
"A mistake, duly noted." She snaps, and the lazy smile drifts from her face. "But all is righted. The brothers are dead, thanks to you. They were a thorn in my side. The other boy is dead, also thanks to you. Which means, now, that our secret can die with you!" She hisses the last and lunges forward, like a snake, even tracking his movement as he plunges to one side, reaching, hoping, praying for the metal of the handle to bite into his palm. He hits the ground hard and pulls up, smacking into the lifeless body of one Stabbington brother as he pushes his arm as far as it will go, but he can't reach it and he turns to face the she-witch that's bearing down upon him like one of the wraiths of hell—
"Stop."
He almost doesn't recognize the voice. It's cold, smooth, lifeless. Gothel, bent over him with the now apparent dagger glinting in fire and moonlight, reaches across his outstretched form and grabs the sword he had so desperately been trying to reach. She looks at it distastefully and throws it half-way across the room. Then she bends down and shoves the point of the dagger hard into his stomach, as far as it will go without piercing the skin.
"Why should I stop, Rapunzel?" Gothel smiles down at him and traces a picture obliquely onto his tunic, pushing so hard it rips. "I need only to kill him, then I can have you all to myself, forever." She turns back slowly, her expression still blithe and peaceful, but the dagger goes rigid as she spies her daughter's face. Flynn, looking over from his spot on the ground, can see why.
She has one of the mirror shards from the floor pressed firmly against the base of her neck, holding the hair taunt with her other hand.
"Rapunzel, what are you doing?" Gothel barks, and he can hear the faintest traces of panic in her voice beneath the anger. "Rapunzel put that down! Listen to me, put that down this instant—"
"No, you listen!" Her voice is thick with tears. "All my life you told me the world was a cruel place, that I needed to hide from people who would want to abuse and use my power, and all this time, all this time I should have been hiding from you!"
Gothel's hand shakes and he winces as it catches and rips at more than just cloth.
"Rapunzel—"
"You kill him, and I will make sure no one can ever use my hair again!"
"Rapunzel, stop this nonsense," Gothel carelessly throws the dagger deeper into his side and Flynn hisses. He can see her knuckles white and pale on the handle of the knife.
"I will not!" She breathes in hard, and is suddenly standing a little straighter. There is something like resolve in her eyes but he can't tell because the fire is dying and the pain in his abdomen increasing. "I am not a puppet!"
"Rapunzel!"
But the jagged edge cuts across the gold quickly and efficiently. In her panic Gothel drops the knife and plunges forward. He scrambles to his feet, head reeling, dizzy, trying to reach Rapunzel before her mother did, only she wasn't going for the girl, she was going to the length of gold wrapped around the tower floor that was fading quickly to brown.
Flynn reaches Rapunzel and drags her back roughly as her mother picks up the hair, smooth as silk, with a look of horror upon her face. "What have you done?" she whispers, then she screams, "What have you done!" She begins to walk forward, towards them, but, distraught, staggers back, looking wildly around the tower room, looking flustered and lost and caught. The hair falls from her fingers. Then she screams, one loud, long note, but it fades away into something ugly and old as the last of the magic tethering her to this world is gone with the night wind. He turns at the ragged sound to find the skin sinking and closing in over itself, the teeth regressing, hair thinning, the pale pink replaced with etched white; Gothel's back hunches over grotesquely and her hands wither to bone, and suddenly she is tugging at the loose folds of her dress, reaching for the long, now brown hair that litters the floor but she can't grasp it with her thin, dying fingers; she stumbles backwards, still screaming, only her voice ages too until there is nothing but a silent gasp and she falls over the window ledge and into the night.
Rapunzel reaches out.
The flames die.
The silence that follows is a different sort of silence than before. In the sudden darkness his ears work overdrive, and he can make out a crow caw from the jungle below. Rapunzel's breathes are shuddery and short beneath him, and he tightens his grip as her new hair tickles his face. "Shh, hey, Rapunzel—"
"I didn't think—I didn't think it would kill her—" She's heaving dry sobs that racket painfully loud across the room. He presses her head back into his shoulder, ignoring his aches, the cuts on his face, his chest, and says simply, truthfully:
"She would have killed you."
It's not much. But it's a start.
They bury Bastion beneath a lone willow tree that grew wild and free and undisturbed by the bubbling brook of her tower. The sun has risen by the time he places a single rock at the head of the mound of dirt; he's tired and wants to sleep and contemplates just hunkering down right there, but doesn't think Rapunzel would go for that. He straightens up instead, claps his hands together, and steps back to admire his handiwork.
It's crude. But it'll do.
"HEY, MY GIRLFRIEND LOOKS LIKE SHIT, RIDER, WHAT DID YOU DO?"
Flynn feels like shit, and looks worse, and is about to snap except from behind him, soft and tentative, he hears, "Do I really?"
"No, no, of course not—" he laughs it off, turning to look back at her.
"A little bit." Hookhand says at the same time. His great, round eyes clearly show his worry, however. "But you still the prettiest girl I ever laid eyes on." Then: "You cut your hair!"
Out of the corner of his vision Flynn sees her play with the short, jagged strips and push an unruly one from her face.
"And it's brown now!"
She bites her lip.
"Rider, what the hell happened? You look worse than she does!"
Her lip trembles.
"Alright Hookhand, thank you," Flynn shoulders further into the tavern and points Rapunzel to a little rickety table that sits empty in the back of the bar. He notices the slump of her shoulders as she walks over there, and he immediately turns to the giant of a man standing next to him.
"Not helping." He snaps. "Not helping at all."
The thug's eyes follow her and he says seriously, "What did happen, though?"
"A story for another time." Flynn says, rubbing the crust of a blood-tear away from his forehead. "When wounds have healed, and all that."
"I'm guessing you want a drink?"
"Two." Flynn blanches. "Please."
He drags the tankards after they are filled to the table where she is sitting demurely. Hookhand is standing several feet away, arms crossed, hook glinting meanly in the light from the windows, unofficial bodyguard. The space around their table is empty.
"I got you a drink," he tries a charming-Flynn smile but she doesn't respond so he sets the mug down and pushes it towards her. He takes a sip of his own but winces at the cuts it has to go past to get down.
She fingers her hair once more and then, quite suddenly, reaches for the mug and downs several gulps of the substance inside. She frowns as she sets it back down. "This is water."
"What did you think it was?" He responds wryly. "Can't have you becoming alcoholic now, can we?"
She doesn't say anything for awhile after that. The sounds of the tavern filter past, glasses clanking, the occasional fight. He's thinking about where he can go that's actually clean to get their wounds fixed, because Blondie has some nasty cuts on her feet, when she says:
"Why did you come back?"
He can sense the hidden question beneath it. Namely, Why did you agree to doing all that you did in the first place, you bastard? Only, not so colorful.
"I escaped, and I was afraid the Stabbingtons were going to kill you." He says truthfully. "I went after you, and found Bastion. He said you'd been kidnapped. So I came back to save you."
He deigns not to answer the first question. Not yet.
"What if I didn't want to be saved?"
"I don't care." As he says it his voice catches. "Because honestly, Blondie?" The nickname falls easily from his lips and he can hear the opposition growing from hers—I'm not blonde anymore—so he continues, "I don't think this world would be very…fun. Without you in it."
He winces as it comes out, but he's been reduced to a pseudo-Flynn/ Eugene mixture and his eloquence has left him.
"…Fun." She deadpans.
"I mean," and he attempts a charming smile, which was the wrong thing to do, because she glares heatedly at him. "I mean, what I'm trying to say is—Blondie I think—"
"I've been thinking, too, Eugene, and I think I have no reason to trust you—"
"—that you make me a better person, I mean, I only agreed to this whole thing in the first place—"
"—because how can I trust you? After what you did?"
"—Rapunzel just shut up for a second and listen to me." He shoves the mug away from where it its in front of her so he can get a clear view. It slides across the table and shatters to the floor. "I only agreed to this whole thing in the first place because back when it started, when I met your mot—when I met people, and they offered me jewels and things, that was my world. But then I met you and you turned it around and don't you see?"
"See what, Eugene?" And her voice is soft and tired and defeated all at once.
"You are my world now. I don't need gold to be happy. I don't need jewels. I haven't stolen a single thing since I met you—ok, there was that horse. But that doesn't count, because I was trying to save you. So it wasn't a selfish steal, or anything."
He misses Flynn. Eugene rambles when he is nervous.
She is sort of staring at him, wide-eyed. He takes a deep breath and continues.
"I don't deserve forgiveness. I don't deserve to have you come running back to my arms, hell, I don't deserve you in general. I'm a thief. I've done some things I'm not proud of, things I'll have to live with. But the thought of leaving you locked in that tower, the thought of you dead—I realized I'd rather live as a broken man in a world with you in it, rather than a rich man in one you weren't even in at all."
He meets her eyes. Then:
"You…complete me, Rapunzel. Like no one else has."
He's never been more serious in his life. Her mouth opens, and his heart, which he had previously been trying to ignore, does a funny little dance and he scoots forward in anticipation, only the front door of the tavern suddenly bursts open with a noise like thunder and they both turn towards the sound.
They have to peer around Hookhand. But when they do, Flynn's heart stops all together. And then his stomach falls to his feet.
"Alright, listen up!" the palace guard yells, and Flynn is on his feet, but the entrance to the back area of the tavern is on the far side of the bar.
Damn Eugene's luck. Damn.
Rapunzel stands and moves in front of him, but she barely reaches his chin. He wants to say something else but his words are spent and catching in his throat. The guard continues to speak.
"…followed the trail of the stolen horses, led us to this hell hole." He has a handlebar mustache to die for, Flynn thinks sarcastically. "So tell me, who took them? And where are they now?"
He notices Hookhand step back a few steps, his wide girth a roadblock to the guard. The man is circling the bar in increasingly wider shapes; his infantry waits patiently at the door.
"Well? Who took them? And where are they now?"
His heart is about to jump out of his chest as the guard nears them. He can make out the buttons on his red and white jacket, the sun on his helmet. He saunters next to Hookhand and leers down in his face. "Was it you?"
Hookhand grunts noncommittally. The guard snorts, but starts to continue on. At the last second, however, something makes him turn back, and from the angle he has, to the left of Hookhand, a clear view through empty space of Rapunzel and the infamous Flynn Rider.
The guard stops dead in his tracks. His mouth drops a bit, before he lets out a hearty laugh. "Well I'll be damned!" he roars, stepping forward. "It can't be—it's not Flynn Rider, is it?"
The guards waiting at the door begin to talk loudly amongst themselves as their leader takes another step forward. "Whose this?" He points to Rapunzel and Flynn frowns. "Wait, don't tell me. You're new girlfriend? How'd that last one turn out for you, huh?" He laughs again. Flynn notices Hookhand take a step sideways, towards him.
"Greno," the man shouts back to the front of the tavern, "get me some shackles. And forget the horses, boys—we just caught bigger fish."
Hookhand swings a fist then, and Flynn yells, "Don't!"
It stops inches from the guard's nose.
"No more deaths." Flynn says. "Let them take me, Hookhand. No more deaths. I don't want anymore deaths because of me."
Hookhand keeps his fist poised in the air for a moment, meets his eyes, and then backs down. Flynn pushes Rapunzel gently to one side and offers up his wrists. "Just me, Razoul ol' pal." He grins jauntily. "Miss me?"
Greno comes racing from the front through the silent crowd of thugs. In his hands he holds two metal rings, the shackles, which Razoul takes and slaps painfully over Flynn's wrists.
"No, wait, what are you doing—" Rapunzel steps forward and pushes Hookhand away when he tries to stop her. "You can't just take him!"
"Looks like he beat you up pretty bad," Razoul eyes her up and down and Flynn watches her face grow red with fury.
"He didn't do this to me! My mother did!"
Walter frowns. "What?"
"And you can't take him!"
"This man is the most wanted criminal in Corona." Razoul says matter-of-factly. "To hell I can't."
"No, you can't, I won't let you—" And she lunges forward.
"Rapunzel!" Flynn yells.
"You want to come too?" The guard captain frowns as he bats away her assault. "Fine. Greno, tie her up. She needs some help. Probably brainwashed or something."
"I was not!" Flynn's never heard her voice reach so high a decibel. He turns to Razoul.
"She's not following me, ok? I've never seen her before in my life till I tried to pick her up in this place. Let her go."
"No one orders me around, Rider." Razoul snaps. "Get them outside."
The silence follows them out.
They are taken to the big prison situated near the harbor. It's thick and metal and he's escaped from it exactly three times, though with the guards surrounding him now he doubts there will be a fourth.
They are led underneath a wrought-iron gate and towards an inner courtyard, and he notices with a sudden feeling of resignation that the gallows are already set and ready.
There must have been another death today.
The sun is high overhead, sending a shaft of light to illuminate the noose where it moves idly in a slight, dank breeze.
"What is that?" She's barely spoken at all since the tavern. Now it is soft, underneath her breath, as the guards begin to bustle around them.
"The gallows." He answers.
"What are those?"
"Where people go to die."
He has the sudden urge to wrap a hand around his neck but the shackles don't allow it. She hisses and he notices her wrists have become red and raw, chafed by the rough rope they tied crudely there. The guard captain, Razoul, is talking to another man up ahead, gesturing grandly and looking back at the prisoners. Six more guards surround them in a circle, and one holds the chain connecting to Flynn, the other the rope tying Rapunzel down.
"I'm sorry, so sorry." Flynn tries a smile, and it is small and sad. "For everything, Blondie."
"Don't say that, Eugene." Her voice breaks. "We'll get out of this. You have to get out of this. I don't—" she looks up at him and he down at her—"I don't think I could live in a world without you in it."
"Rapunzel, I—"
"Alright!" Razoul's voice is deep as he stomps back towards the guard circle. "Take the girl up to the castle, the king'll know what to do with her."
"What about me?" Flynn dares to hope for a second—
Razoul eyes him levelly. "Let's get this over with, Rider."
—which was a mistake. "Oh."
Two guards break off and begin to push Rapunzel back out the way they came, yelling at her as she strains against them.
He feels empty. Void. Null. He is nothing. There is only this moment and he must take it.
He pulls quickly away to where she stands and crashes his lips roughly upon hers. It's not gentle, more desperate, because this will be the first, last, and only time, because his past has finally caught up with him. She tastes like forest and sunshine and hell, he could stay there all day—he pushes roughly against her lips, they part easily beneath his own—all day, for one more kiss—
The guards yell and prod and pull and take away his day. He's left panting, surrounded by red and white, with eyes only for green. She's looking at him; her mouth is slightly parted, her bottom lip puffy. Her eyes red-rimmed. She brings a finger up to her mouth and it hovers in the air before it.
"Alright, people, show's over! Stay awake, girls!" Razoul roars.
"I love you." She mouths.
It's all he can do to smile back.
It's a start, but it's too late.