Well howdy-doody. I made some fanfictions for y'all. Said I'd be working on a fast update! This chapter is the first one that really starts knuckling down into the plot, so let's hope it goes down well.

Flynn Wanted

~4~

Eugene dreams of his home. Well, the only place he ever knew as home - the orphanage; always too cold in the winter, when the wind blew through every hole and the house whistled like a wheezy old man; then too hot in the summer, when no air could escape so it fermented in children and sweat until everything felt sticky.

They're happy faces he remembers, though, overlooked by the clucking Auntie who fed and washed and scolded them if – or when – they misbehaved. Aunt Aya, she had them call her. The nearest thing he ever had to a mother – in his own memory, at least.

Eugene dreams of the older boys he looked up to – then when they left and he became one of the older boys – of the younger kids who looked up to him. To whom he'd read the tales of Flynnigan Rider, then where the pages had fallen out of the beat-up and overloved book, he made up his own parts to fill in the gaps. He dreams about the girls too – from whom he learned to tease and flirt, who taught him the power of the smoulder. Who loved to hate and hated to love him.

He wakes up often between these dreams, and it always takes a moment to realise he is not in the orphanage still, not in the rickety once-grand town house that still stands on the outskirts of town, still ringing with the voices of children.

However, the ugly smear on the wall by his bed reminds him of where he is; he tried to scrub off the word – TRAITOR, bold and black – but the paint doesn't wash and all he's done is smudge and make it worse. Tomorrow he plans to paint over it; this is not something he wants to admit has happened.

When he goes back to sleep, it is still the orphanage he dreams of relentlessly and incessantly; when he wakes the next morning, it feels as if he has not slept at all. In his dreams he has been swimming rivers, climbing and falling out of trees; he's been stealing food from markets, and getting chased down by six Kingdom guards, even though he can't be more than ten.

In spite of his exhaustion, he begrudgingly rolls out of bed and starts to wash up, knowing he won't get any more peace. As he shaves his eyes keep on flitting to the black mess on the wall, feeding the sick weight in his stomach, pulling at the corners of his mind like a bunched seam.

He tries to work out who could've done it – who or what is he a traitor to – and why would someone go to such lengths to let him know. They broke in yet took nothing. It seems likely the message is related to the crime, that perhaps it was left by someone taken in by the Flynn Rider ploy, accusing him of betraying the promise to turn it would account for why they stole nothing, if it was meant to be a moral act.

Although it makes sense, for some reason Eugene can't help a niggling doubt, as if he's missing something. The time frame seems off, the message feels personal, but just as he can't imagine who would want to frame him as Flynn Rider, he can't think of any enemies who would do this, either. If it was the same person, they must want him punished – revenge, maybe, but for what?

He doesn't tell anyone about the message – can't see any purpose in telling, even if he wanted to. Not even Rapunzel, who he visits in the castle later on – making sure he keeps his word to check on her, rested and recovered, overjoyed to see him free. He knows the message would only worry her, and he fears if others knew – if the Captain somehow found out – they would think it was related to the crimes and twist it to strengthen the case against him.

Not that it needs any more strengthening, and for that reason he doesn't linger long at the castle, uncomfortable with the horde of accusatory looks he receives; he can tell even the Queen has reservations about him, though she keeps them unvoiced, and only Rapunzel and the King honestly believe he is innocent. Eugene realises that until the 'Flynn Rider' case is solved, none of his visits to the castle are going to be all that welcome, so he soon finds him himself on the streets of the city without very much to do.

On another day he might decide to take a trip somewhere outside the Kingdom, but it'd look worryingly suspicious in the current circumstances – like he was fleeing the city. Of course, he could go home and paint over the defaced wall, but he can't bear to see it right now; the dark accusation unnerves him too much.

So he is caged, locked between frustration and apathy – incapable of focusing because his mind keeps returning to his dreams. It doesn't help that he walks through places he saw in them, streets he remembers running down as a child, stalls he used to shoplift from – all while the snapshot in his head of the house keeps flashing up, like it's superimposing itself on his mind. Eventually he gets sick of it, and decides that perhaps going back there might help – scratch the itch, put the strange yearning to rest, or perhaps his subconscious is trying to tell him something – so he sets off on the long walk across town to the orphanage.

The house still stands, if a little more lopsided than it was when he left almost ten years ago, and as he approaches he hears children playing in the gardens. He stands awkwardly at the bottom of the steps and hesitates; he swore he wasn't ever coming back the day he ran away, but now he feels a nostalgic longing, a sudden desire to find his past again. He wants to know if Aunt Aya still rules the place with a keen eye and sharp tongue, if the initials he carved on the skirting board are still there. Rapunzel reclaimed her family and history, so he wonders if maybe her example has influenced him, however subtly.

At the same time, he's anxious, practically afraid, but the decision is made for him when a slightly stooped figure passes by one of the ground floor windows, and spots him loitering.

"Hey! If you've no business here then shove-!" the far from mild-mannered woman yells out of the window, making Eugene turn to her with a fearful shock; instinct takes over and he flinches at the tone of voice that is still hardwired into his brain as being in trouble. Then the woman adjusts her glasses, and her face lights up.

"Why... Eugene?" she exclaims disbelievingly. "Is that really you?"

"Uh..." he murmurs uncomfortably, wondering if this is such a great idea. The woman disappears form the window and reappears at the door half a minute later, her arms spread wide.

"Eugene," she coos fondly. "It's about damn time. Come on inside."

"Aw... uh... I was just passing by, I can't really," Eugene dodges, regretting turning up at all. He knows she will only have hundreds of questions for him – most of which he won't want to answer – not to mention a decade of undelivered scolding. This was clearly a bad idea, his flight instincts tell him.

"Inside, Eugene," she commands, and his face drops any last trace of its casual demeanour.

"Yes maam," he mumbles quietly, and then follows her in. He's led into the main room, where a few children are shooed out of the way, and sat down at a well-worn table with far too many bitemarks around the edges. A cup of tea is placed in his hand in spite of his not asking for it, and finally the grey-haired old woman who raised him sits herself down.

"So," she begins authoritatively, and Eugene flinches in expectation of a cuff around the ear, or at least a scolding for not dropping by sooner. "Flynn Rider's back, eh?"

"Oh,", he replies, and his face falls. "News travels fast, huh?"

"Such a good boy, Eugene," she sighs. "Most of the time, anyway. Where did I go so wrong?"

"Would you believe me if I said I didn't do it?" he questions, and she turns a sharp eye on him. "I mean, I did most of it," he amends sheepishly. "But this last time – with the Judge and his wife – it really wasn't me. I gave up all of that when I-"

"For her?" the auntie cuts in mercilessly, and Eugene reels a little with her brash intrusion. The downside of falling in love with a lost princess – whose return was the single greatest event in the history of the Kingdom – was that unfortunately everyone seemed to know about his love life now.

"Yes," he says quietly, without hesitation, "for her."

Aunt Aya is silent and takes a sip from her own cup. He swears she looks exactly the same as when he left – as she always has – like time just overlooks her. Witch Gothel would probably have killed for the secret.

"Swear on it, then," she announces, and he gives her a puzzled look. "Swear on your love for the princess it wasn't you." Her methods haven't changed much, he realises with an almost fond nostalgia. All oaths when he was young were measured over the things you loved most, and if you broke your word those things were usually taken – he lost a lot of pocket money that way. However, he almost lost Rapunzel once, no way would he ever lose her again.

"I swear," he says firmly, and she studies him carefully as she takes another sip of her tea; then finally, her thin lips curl into a smile.

"Good boy," she clucks fondly. "I knew you'd grow up well in the end."

"No you didn't," he counters, and she laughs; a high trilling sound, as if she has a songbird somewhere in her family history.

"Well I hoped," she amends. "What brings you down here, after all these years?"

"I dunno," he says with a shrug. "I just felt like it." He thought that being here would help, but the niggling feeling, the itch, they've only gotten worse. He looks around the room idly. "Nothing's changed, has it?" The woman shakes her head.

"Nothing does," she remarks. "Same place, same kids – different names." She chuckles to herself, and winks at him. "They all think they're so original. Especially the Eugene Fitzherberts." He could pretend to be surprised and offended at the implication that he wasn't a one-of-a-kind individual, but he might as well save his breath, because he knows what she means.

"Do they all still want to be Flynnigan Rider?" he humorously asks instead.

"The smart ones do," she replies, and takes another ladylike sip. As far as he'd garnered, Aunt Aya was from a good background, but abandoned it to open up the orphanage, having no children of her own. "The dumb ones all want to be you," she adds coolly, and gives him a cutting look.

"Hey," he says defensively, holding up his hands. "I never endorsed my lifestyle to anyone. Not to mention I'm trying to mend my ways." Trying was the operative word – giving up criminal life wasn't the easiest transition to make; he'd put effort into it, and finding new ways to make money was quite a challenge, considering he'd been a thief all his life. The urge to steal things he wanted was an impossibly irritating habit to kick.

"About time," she berates, although without real malice. "You should come back and talk to the troublemakers, set them straight before they get a chance to go astray like you did – oh, I've never seen boys get into so much trouble," she laments with an amused groan. "The lot of you were unstoppable – drove me half-mad you did."

He recalls who she speaks of; his closest and most loyal friends and followers. The gang he first acted out their favourite story with, then built their own adventures when the tired of the ones in the book – it was how he became Flynn Rider.

"What happened to them all?" he asks thoughtfully. Most of the boys had been younger than he was, so he'd left them behind when he ran away to steal his fortune.

"Ohh, here and there," Aunt Aya says carelessly. "Marcus became a blacksmith's apprentice, Angelo went to study... got married, I think. The others – who knows? No one keeps in touch with me, ungrateful swines," she sighs, and Eugene evades her pointed glare.

"What about Francis?" he inquires; a face that had been prominent in his dreams. Francis was the youngest of his trope, the baby, but also his best sidekick. When the other, slightly wiser, boys abandoned ship – namely, whenever Eugene landed himself in big trouble – Francis was the only one who'd stand by him.

"Francis... I don't know anymore," she reveals sadly. "He was working in a bakery until recently... then, a while ago, he just ups and vanishes." Eugene can tell she is still worried, and he never knew her to worry unless the cause was just.

He wonders how old 'the baby' must be now – not much older than Rapunzel, he works out, and it makes him feel old. It's only five or so years, but in his mind Francis is just a little kid, and realizing that even he's got a couple of years on Rapunzel is a sobering thought. Seven years between them, and he remembers all too well what he was like at her age.

"He just... vanished?" he asks, unable to believe that the boy could have just dropped off the face of the world – he worries something happened to him, that he's lying robbed and left for dead. Eugene was always a little overprotective, partly because Francis was the youngest and most easily hurt or upset, but also because he had a knack for getting into trouble – getting him into trouble.

"Just like you did," answers Aunt Aya with a disapproving inference. "There one day, gone the next. His boss came here to ask if I'd seen him – that was how I found out."

"Jeez," Eugene murmurs, settling his chin in his hand; it's been years since he he flicked through the endless catalogue of memories that compiles his youth, but he realises most are fond. He realises he misses his old gang. That they were the best friends he's had to date – real friends. It wasn't a childhood without hardship – when Aya ran short on money, being hungry and cold, trying to steal food for the children and getting a hiding for his trouble – but he had a home, and people to call family. That mattered more than he ever gave away, even to Rapunzel during any of her customary interrogations.

So if 'Aunt' Aya was his mother, Francis was his younger brother, and he had every right to be concerned about him.

"Francis was such a good boy," she laments. "He was considerate enough to come and see how his Auntie was holding up. Used to help me around the house too... wonderful with the children." She removes her glasses and polishes them with her sleeve, while Eugene genially ignores the indirect complaint. "Still never stopped talking about you," she adds offhandedly, and he raises his eyebrows.

"Really?" He'd assumed that after he left the orphanage everyone would have just moved on, but on reflection it does stink a little.

"Oh yes," Aya insisted. "He would go on and on. Flynn this and Flynn that..." Eugene's face creases at the choice of name. Although he used to encourage the kids to call him Flynn – acting out 'The Tales of...' was one of their favourite games – whenever something went wrong, it was always Eugene who was in trouble.

"He called me Flynn?" he questions suspiciously.

"With the kids," she replies. "Told them such stories about you every time he visited... so I suppose you're not entirely to blame for their mania." At the concession, he flashes her a proud grin – it wasn't me was a difficult argument to stop making, especially if it was true.

"Though... not the last time I saw him – no, then he called you Eugene," Aya recounts thoughtfully. "I remember because of the kids – they wanted Flynn Rider stories as usual, but he snapped them rather sourly. Had quite the temper tantrum and stormed off – 'Eugene's betrayed us' he kept yelling when I tried to calm him down. You know how he'd get when he was worked up," she says with a roll of the eyes and a dismissive hand gesture, and Eugene knows the moods she speaks of.

"Typical of you children," she moans hyperbolically. "Never stop causing your poor Auntie trouble."

Eugene shrugs guiltily and lifts his cup, but suddenly that word from his wall flashes up in his mind as Aya's words echo in his ear, and his fingers slip, the cup falls clattering to the table. Aya gives a shrill cry, reaches across to save her crockery, mopping a puddle of tea while a stream of beration comes from her lips.

But Eugene doesn't hear her – it's hit him, it's hit him like a ton of bricks. The message on his wall isn't accusing him of betrayal to his promise to start over as Eugene, it is betrayal of his becoming Eugene. The betrayal of a childhood hero.

The niggling doubt that's been festering in his mind gone, he sees everything clearly; the message, the attack on the Judge – it isn't an attempt to frame him, it's a new Flynn Rider, a replacement because he's a traitor and quit. Eugene buries his face in his hands as he realises what has happened – what has to have happened.

Francis is the new Flynn Rider.

Does this count as a cliffhanger? I just don't know chapter is heavy on OCs, but they felt necessary to me so hopefully they weren't too hard to deal with. It's difficult to go into Eugene's past without getting cliche. No Rapunzel either, Eugene needed to handle this one on his own.

In this story I've put Eugene at about 25 or so, and I figure he ran away about 15.

=(^.^)= meow meow meow!

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