I have to say it's honestly the readers and reviewers who are making these updates so quick. Every time I hit a quiet patch or slump, I get a bunch of awesome chatter from all of you and I'm like YEAH I'M GONNA GO WRITE/EDIT A WHOLE NEW CHAPTER.

EDIT: DOCUMENT MANAGER HATES ME OR SOMETHING I FIXED THE WEIRD DOUBLE-START THING.

Flynn Wanted

~7~

Rapunzel is aware that she has a slightly overactive imagination – okay, a very overactive imagination – but she needed it when she lived in the tower, needed to make the same small space bearable for eighteen long years.

Back then it was an asset, but now she's suffering for a mind with a serious case of the fidgets, because every small rustle of leaves sounds like anything from bandits to bears. Snapping twigs might be harmless woodland creatures, but to her mind it's the footsteps of a monstrous goliath, lurking just behind the shadows, pursuing her relentlessly – just waiting until she's far enough from the city to pounce.

She grips Max's reins so tight her knuckles blanch and huddles over him in, her hood casting shadows far over her face, streaked with lines of darkness cast from the bare trees around them. The sun was long gone before she even set out, but the moon is large and brilliant, throwing a draining light over their path; she wonders if running away in the thick of night was such a good idea, but then there's no helping it now, so she clings to Max and pushes on.

She's been riding for a couple of hours, scouring the forests that border the Kingdom in the hopes that Eugene hasn't strayed too far, but she hasn't seen so much as a chipmunk. Everything is cold and dead, hiding from the winter that will be fully upon them soon.

"Well, Max, this isn't working out quite like I imagined..." she remarks, her voice scared and shallow, shaking as she tries to sound braver than she feels – than she is. Max turns to look her in the eye understandingly, then reverses direction back towards the city, but a fierce tug on his reins brings him around. "No," she insists with cast-iron stubbornness. "We're not going back until I find him."

Max sighs in a clearly disappointed fashion, then reluctantly plods further into the forest. The moonlight is bright enough to see, but only just, and eventually Rapunzel gives up the plight. She's more likely to miss what she's looking for in the darkness, than to find it among the inky shadows.

"Okay," she relents with a stroke of the horse's neck, clinging to him tight as she turns her back against all the demons she poctures just out of sight. "We can rest for now."

Max whinnies his approval, and then starts to rummage through the nearby undergrowth for a clearing big enough camp in. They come across a small ring of trees with enough space to sleep, littered with leaves and branches from where a large tree was felled. Max is ruffling through a pile of debris, shovelling with his nose to clear a space, when he bumps into something that lets out a stifled yelp, huddled against a sodden decaying log.

Rapunzel shrieks in fright, and then realises the sound isn't threatening, it's weak, human, and she almost falls from Max's back in shock, scrambling over to the source of the noise.

"Hello?" she cries worriedly, and although her heart lurches, she knows instinctively it isn't Eugene. She brushes away a littering of leaves, squinting through the twilight to make out the form of a boy, curled up and shivering against a thick tree branch. He lets out a frail moan when she lays hands on him.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry, Max didn't know what he was doing," she says apologetically, pulling back her hands. "Wait, are you hurt?" She reaches for him again, and discovers he is ice-cold to the touch. "You're freezing," she rushes, her panic only growing when she grabs for one of his arms and it feels damp; then her hand comes away stained dark – blood. "You're bleeding!" She seizes the boy by his tunic and pulls him away from the log, sitting him upright as his eyes screw up in pain, a groan sliding out between his clenched teeth.

"Max, what do I do? What do I do!" she chatters in a frenzy, putting her hands to the boy's face and trying to warm his stone cold cheeks. The horse only looks at her with a stunned expression, but then snaps into action. With a snort he drops to the floor, laying down and then gesturing with his head for Rapunzel to slump the boy against his warm body.

"No," the boy moans barely consciously, as Rapunzel drags him across and tucks him against Max's belly, but she ignores him and pulls off her cloak, covers him with it.

"Right," she announces with far more confidence than she feels, and stands to look around the small clearing, eerie as the moon paints a skeletal pattern on the ground. "I'll go find some firewood." She pauses and looks over her shoulder at Max questioningly, who nods to let her know she's doing fine.

Gathering as much wood as she can fit in her arms, Rapunzel dashes back to the clearing and dumps it in a disorganised heap. She rifles through her bag and finds matches, striking them with shaking hands to set alight a handful of dried leaves. The fire grows, crackling as it catches, and starts giving out real heat once she adds bigger logs, dewy so that they give off a thick smoke, hissing and whistling with steam as they burn.

Then she turns her attention to the boy, crawls closer to him and looks in the firelight for the source of the bleeding. It's not as bad as she thought, thankfully – he's cut his arm, as well as his leg, but the rest of him seems fine, and the bleeding looks to have slowed. Probably because he is so cold, so she drags him closer to the fire and peels back the torn fabric around his wounds, tips some of her water over them and presses down the bandages she packed – she needed them after all. It's rough, but it'll have to do for now – she's not a doctor or a miracle worker – no magic hair any more, and healing tears aren't power she can call upon willingly.

"Shh, shh," she coos when the boy whines with pain as she cleans his injuries. "It's okay, I promise." She wads her bag under his head, wraps her cloak tighter around his cold, hurt body, and slowly smooths down his hair with the back of her hand. Before she even realises, she starts to sing – just as Gothel used to for her, and then she for herself.

"Flower gleam and glow..." She's just trying to calm him, and it seems to work, because his breathing evens – there's no magic to the words, just a lullaby for a frightened boy. "... Let your power shine, make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine..."

Although she fights it, the song conjures thoughts of Eugene, rising and popping bubbles in her mind, making her bitterly wish she could bring him back with something as simple as a song. When she looks back down at the boy, he's asleep, but his face is warmer and he no longer shivers. She breathes a huge sigh of relief, and then realises what just happened – what she did. She rescued someone, just like that, and in spite of the grim circumstances, it makes her smile. Eugene was right, she thinks, she is all right on her own – she can even help others.

Rapunzel leans back against Max, pats his warm flank and congratulates them both on a job well done. Although she tries her best to keep watch over the boy, eventually her eyes will no longer stay open of their own accord, and she curls up close to the fire and sleeps from sheer exhaustion.

In the morning she wakes alone – aside from Max, at least, whose snoring rouses her in the first place. She sits up and realises she is covered by her own cloak; jumping to her feet, she looks wildly for the boy from last night, but sees nothing. The fire smokes, and the rumpled undergrowth by Max's side is empty – she half-wonders if it really happened, if maybe she just imagined the wounded boy to somehow deal with being alone. Because she is scared when she's alone; it makes her feel vulnerable and abandoned, like there is no one to stop her from disappearing and never coming back.

She hugs her cloak around her shoulders as she sinks down to the ground, tucks her knees up and wraps her arms around them, rocking back against Max and forcing herself to breathe slowly. Then a rustling comes from the bushes near her and she yelps, leaps clear over Max and cowers, peeking her glassy fear-widened eyes over his haunches at the source of the noise.

"Oh," says a soft voice, "you're awake." He strides into view, arms bundled with wood, and stands in the streaming sunlight, his hair lighting to a rusty red colour, freckles across his nose. She realises he isn't really a boy, he looks her age, and in spite of the bandages around his arm and leg, he walks without a limp. At least she didn't imagine him. She carries on peeking over Max, watching as he walks to the fire and drops handfuls of brittle twigs on the smoking embers, blows on them until the flame catches again.

"I just went for more firewood," he explains meekly, and when he looks at her his eyes are a bright green, like hers. "I don't have any food, but there's a stream nearby, I thought we could boil some water to drink, if you wanted..." he trails off and looks down; he's just trying to help, to repay her. "Thank you," he murmurs, "for last night."

"Oh..." she squeaks bluntly. "No problem." She looks around and sees her bag. "I have some food in there, if you're hungry," she tells him without coming out of her hiding place, pointing over Max's back, who continues to regard the boy suspiciously.

"Okay... but what about you? Aren't you hungry?" he inquires, and her stomach gives an answering rumble, but she remains behind her horse and stares the boy out – she doesn't want to reveal herself any more than she has already, fears that he'll recognise and turns her in. News of anything she does travels fast, so something as sensational as the Lost Princess become re-lost would probably have the Kingdom in chaos.

"I'm... not gonna hurt you," he mumbles after a long awkward silence. "Here," he drops his hands and rubs them clean on his shirt, then holds one out to her in greeting. "Nice to meet you." Rapunzel slowly dares to stand up, never taking her eyes off the boy, even as she climbs back over a complaining Max and approaches him.

"You don't... know who I am?" she asks suspiciously, and the boy looks around.

"Should I?" he answers benignly, and then reaches forwards and catches her hand in his. For a moment she tenses, but a split second later realises how silly she's being as he shakes her hand and then lets go again. "What's your name?"

"Uh," she bolts awkwardly. "It's... it's..." She can't tell him her real name, that much she understands, but for the life of her cannot think of anything to say.

"Can't remember your own name?" he jests, but there is a clear mistrust in his voice.

"No, I, uh, just," she mumbles. "It's... really embarrassing," she lies.

"Oh," he says, his face lifting again, as he seems to except the excuse. "Well don't worry, I promise I won't laugh," he tells her, but she says nothing, grasping desperately for a name, any name. "Well?" he prompts shortly, so Raopunzel grabs for the only thing she can think of.

"It's Pascal!" she blurts, and then claps her hands over her mouth in horror.

"... Pascal?" he echoes strangely. "Gee, that is kinda weird."

"Um, yeah," Rapunzel mutters, turning bright red with genuine embarrassment.

"Never mind, eh?" he says cheerily. "Nice to meet you, Pascal. So what are you doing out here?" he changes topic quickly, but she isn't much happier. She can't say she's looking for Eugene, because the boy probably knows about the Flynn Rider crimes, so he also might think Eugene was responsible and want him arrested.

"Um..." she replies. "I'm looking for someone," she explains shadily. "I was out here searching for them when I found you."

"Oh right," he says with a warm and sunny smile; his injuries from last night and brush with the biting cold seem far behind him now. "Well I'm mighty glad you did. I thought I was a goner."

"It was nothing, really," she insists, "anyone would've done the same. Although... what were you doing out here? And how did you get hurt?" as the first questions comes, more waterfall after it. "Was it wild animals? Bears? Bandits! Is someone chasing you? Might they come back?" her voice skyrockets in tone, until eventually the boy reaches out and stills her frantically gesturing hands.

"Relax," he interjects. "Nothing like that. I just... uh... fell out of a tree."

"You fell out of a tree?" she repeats, and even though Rapunzel is not the most streetwise of people, even she finds it a little strange. "Why were you climbing it? In the middle of the night?"

"Uhh... why not?" he suggests with a shrug, and although instinct tells her something smells fishy – and it's not Max's breath – Rapunzel says nothing. She told him her name was Pascal and he believed her, so she suspects that the less questions asked the better off they'll both be. If he has things to hide she better not go prying into his business, or he might start on hers.

"Oh. Okay," she mumbles, and turns away. She goes to her bag and pulls out a paper-wrapped bundle of biscuits – the only food she had in her room when she left. She opens the package and holds it out to the boy, who refuses to take any until she's had her share, then stuffs three at a time into his mouth. Eventually convinced there's no need to be worried, Rapunzel relaxes at last, and settles down to eat.

"You never did tell me your name," she remarks once she's finished, figuring that it can't hurt to ask his name, but the boy almost chokes on his mouthful.

"Fl-" he begins with a strangled cough, and then stares at her so hard she brings her hands to her face, thinking there must be something on it. The boy swallows, then scrubs his mouth with the back of his hand before he hesitatingly answers.

"My name is Francis."

DOH HO-Yeah this is fairly obvious twist. I'm sure the moment the boy showed up you were all like IT'S FRANCIS DURP, still I figure that at the moment our characters are wandering around the same area, so they're bound to cross paths at some point.

When I say 'biscuits' I am a British person therefore a British-English writer and mean what you Americans know as 'cookies' not some strange kinda toast-thing. I'm sure some people realised from the s's instead of z's and ou's in things. I've got to a stage in my writing career where I refuse to alter my language for the dominant trend. I like my language the way it is.

2:30am is definitely the best time to update chapters. Oh yes. Bla bla bla reviews =D