A/N: The long-awaited campfire scene! I'm not going to lie and say that this chapter was easy to write, because it wasn't. I did enjoy writing it though, and I hope I have done...some justice to the scene in the movie.

Thanks a million to my loyal readers and reviewers! You guys are awesome!

Disclaimer: I do not own Tangled

Chapter 10- The Campfire Confessions

"What is love? Love is when one person knows all of your secrets... your deepest, darkest, most dreadful secrets of which no one else in the world knows... and yet in the end, that one person does not think any less of you; even if the rest of the world does."

-Unknown

By the time Eugene and I had stumbled out of the river, the sun had sunken deep into the sky. I asked him if we should keep walking, but he told me that it would be better to make camp for the night and set out for the capital early the next morning. Plus, he firmly informed me that he had no interest in trudging along in the dark, soaking wet. I agreed, and we walked a little further to search for a suitable camping spot.

Once Eugene found one that satisfied him (sometimes the grass was too hard. Other times it was too soft. And on and on and on. Honestly, I'm surprised I didn't threaten him with Hesty until he let me pick the spot), we settled down for the night. We both collected kindling (and berries to eat for dinner), along with stones to make a ring. Then he attempted multiple times to make a fire, growling each time he failed to light it. I would have laughed at him (who knew he could be so amusing when he was annoyed?), but he was frustrated enough. Plus, I knew his hand was still bothering him, even though he wouldn't admit as much to me. Finally, he managed to start one.

Completely smug with his victory, he turned to where I sat on a log. "See, I told you I could do it, Blondie. Never underestimate the power of Flynn Rider!"

Flynn Rider? I thought you were Eugene Fitzherbert. I decided not to say that, though. I had dilly-dallied long enough since our unexpected swim in the river. I was going to heal his hand now, and I needed him to be as calm as possible before I did it. "Yes, I see. Very good," I said. I searched his face for any signs of panic. Seeing none, I hesitantly continued. "Um, so do you remember what I said about my hair? About it being magical? "

He shot me an incredulous look. "Of course I do! I never forget anything."

"And you remember….that I said…it doesn't just glow?" I asked carefully.

He gave me another surprised look. "Yes. And I'm still waiting for you to explain what you mean by that." Suddenly horror crossed his face. "Oh no," he moaned. "You're not going to tell me that it can light a fire, are you? Because you should have told me that before I…."

I interrupted him mid-sentence, even though I hated interrupting people as much as I hated being interrupted myself. "No, no! It can't light a fire. But it can do something else." I watched his face again, hoping that he wouldn't start panicking again.

He wasn't. Instead of being nervous, he decided to play his "Let's See How Much We Can Tease Blondie Before She Turns Red" game. "Oh, you mean it can do something more than be a big lantern?" he cracked, "because, you know…."

Enough already! "Eugene," I said, exasperated. "Just get over here, and I'll show you okay?"

He stared at me, looking somewhat surprised at my tone. "Yeah, sure, Blondie," he said as he walked over and sat next to me on the log.

I took a deep breath. Just relax, Rapunzel. Everything will be fine. "Okay, so remember when you told me 'don't ask questions' today?" I asked, watching his (very nice) hazel eyes for any sign of alarm.

Yet another incredulous look. "Of course! Like I said, Flynn Rider…"

"….never forgets anything," I finished. You're not making this any easier for me, you know. "Right. I got it. Well, I need you to not ask me questions right now, okay?"

His mouth dropped open. "Well, sure, Blondie."

I sighed, relieved. Finally. "Great. So can I have your injured hand, please?"

He looked as stunned as he had when I asked him what he wanted with my hair back in the tower. "My…what?"

Come on, Eugene. Just let me do this. "Your injured hand. I need it to show you what my hair does besides glow," I requested as politely as I could.

He continued to look flabbergasted. "Um….Well, okay," he said finally as he extended his hand out to me.

I cautiously took it and began to wrap the end of my hair around it, all the while trying to ignore the butterflies that had entered my stomach as soon as I had taken his hand in my own. You're just nervous about healing it, I told myself. It has absolutely nothing to do with holding his hand. "Thank you." I peered carefully at his scratch. It wasn't too bad, and the blood had stopped quite a while ago. I could see the beginning of an infection, though, so I would need to fix that too.

Silence descended for a few moments. And it was not one a pleasant silence, let me tell you. I was overwhelmed with nerves, and he kept opening his mouth as if to ask me something, and then changed his mind. Finally, he must not have been able to stand it anymore.

"So," he said. "You're being strangely cryptic as you wrap your magic hair around my injured hand." I must have rubbed my hair wrong because he winced.

"Sorry," I apologized. Okay, Rapunzel, it's time. "Don't …freak out, okay?" I said.

He glanced over at me with a look that clearly said why would I freak out? Yeah, sure. I so don't believe you. I shut my eyes, and prepared myself for the healing. Dear listener, I'm sure you've heard in other tellings of my tale that my hair does all the work or other fiddle-faddle like it. Nothing could be further from the truth. Yes, without the hair, I would not be able to heal anyone, and yes, I was grateful to my hair. But I was the one who had to control it and tell it what I wanted it to do. And to heal Eugene's hand, there were three steps that I had to complete. First, I had to sing the incantation to awaken the magic. Secondly, I had to heal the wound itself. And third, I had to envision the scratch never happening so his hand would bear no mark. Sounds easy? Well, it's not. And it was actually the most complicated healing I had done in a while. Usually, I only had to make my mother younger, and let me tell you, after doing it at least a hundred thousand times, it was very easy.

Anyway, I closed my eyes in concentration and began to sing the healing song my mother had taught me:

Flower gleam and glow

Let your power shine

Make the clock reverse

Bring back what once was mine

Heal what has been hurt

Change the fate's design

Save what has been lost

Bring back what was once was mine

What once was mine

While I sang the song, I told my hair to heal the scratch. Heal the hand, oh my hair, make it whole once more. I also imagined, in my mind's eye, when he had hurt it in the tunnel and I envisioned instead that he had continued to pound the rocks without any interruption. Finally, when I felt that his hand was whole once more, I opened my eyes, bracing myself for his reaction. Cautiously, I raised my eyes to meet his.

He seemed slightly bewildered, and so he removed his hand from mine and slowly removed my hair from his hand. Suddenly his eyes widened as he saw his hand. I briefly caught a glimpse of it, and it looked like nothing had ever happened. Well done, Rapunzel! However, I couldn't completely relish my success, because Eugene's eyes were popping out of his head, and his mouth was open as if he was going to scream. He looked so panicked that it made his hysterics at seeing my hair glow look like peanuts.

I have to put a stop to this. "Please, don't freak out!" I pleaded. Instantly, the scream died in his throat, and he crossed his arms in fake nonchalance. He managed a small grin, as he said, "I'm not freaking out, are you freaking out?" No, of course not, you noodle head, I thought affectionately (wait, what?). I do this almost every day. "I'm just interested in your hair and the uh….magical qualities that it possesses. How long has it being doing that, exactly?"' he squeaked out.

Relieved that he was calm once more, I managed a slight smile and shrug. "Um…forever, I guess?" I said. Then, I remembered the story my mother had told me about what had happened to me as a baby, and the smile vanished from my face. Sometimes, dear hair, you are more trouble than you're worth. I sighed deeply, as I decided how much I was going to tell Eugene. All of it, I concluded. Why not? He was almost a friend to me, and maybe even…

"Mother says that when I was a baby, people tried to cut it. They wanted to take it for themselves," I said as I gently moved my hair to show Eugene the one stubby strand of brown in seventy feet of blonde hair. "But once it's cut," I continued, "it turns brown and loses its power." Most of the time I didn't recollect who cut it at all. But sometimes, in the darkness of night and of my own mind, I could remember being in somebody's arms, screaming in terror. I always supposed it was whoever tried to cut my hair. I stroked my hair as I also recalled all my mother's warnings- People will use you for your hair. They will lock you up to make themselves healthy forever. You have to stay in this tower where you will be safe. "A gift like that…" I said finally. "It has to be protected. That's why Mother never let me…" Words began to die in my throat. How did a person explain something like this? I sighed and tried again. "That's why I never left and…" I tried to meet his eyes, but I couldn't and stared down at my hands. Why was it so difficult to tell him this? It's almost like I ripped out my soul and placed it in his hands, hoping he wouldn't break it.

"That's why you never left that tower," he finished. I managed to meet his eyes again, and was surprised to see only deep compassion there. My heart skipped a beat. "And you're still going to go back?" he asked gently.

Was I going to go back? After I had tasted the sweetness of freedom? "No!" I said firmly. Then I remembered my mother and her warnings. "Yes!" Did I really want to stay in that tower the rest of my life? "It's complicated," I managed to say before I buried my face in my hands. What was I going to do after we had seen the lanterns? Pascal, who was by my feet, placed his head on my leg, as if to comfort me. I peeked through my fingers at Eugene. There was still nothing but sympathy in his hazel eyes. My heart skipped another beat. Was his name really Eugene? I ran my hands through my hair and sighed.

"So," I asked coyly. "Eugene Fitzherbert, huh?"

He smiled. "Yeah. But I'll save you the sob story of poor orphan Eugene Fitzherbert." He looked away from me then, but I thought I detected a hint of sadness in his eyes. "It's a little…well, it's a little bit of a downer."

Downer or not, I wanted to know. Actually, dear listener, I wanted to know everything I could about him because I was starting to fall in love with him (but of course I didn't know that then). I scouted closer to him on the log, and curiously looked at him again, my chin propped up in my hands.

He seemed to find my interest amusing and chuckled. "There was this book," he said. "A book I used to read to all the younger kids- The Tales of Flynnigan Rider." I imagined a young Eugene reading to the other orphans, and I loved it. I bet he would make great voices for the characters and make all the kids laugh.

"Swash-buckling rogue," he continued. "Richest man alive. Not bad with the ladies either." He looked significantly at me as he stroked his chin. "Not that he'd ever brag about it, or course."

I smiled at him. I liked this side of him. A lot. In fact, when he was Eugene, I almost forgot he was also the wanted thief named Flynn Rider. "Hmmm. Was he a thief, too?" I asked meaningfully.

He seemed thrown by my question and looked away from me again. "Ah, well no," he answered at last, meeting my eyes with his own. "Actually, he had enough money to do anything that he wanted to do, he could go anywhere that he wanted to go." He glanced down at his hands. "And, and, for a kid with nothing. I don't know, it just seemed like the better option," he finished, almost to himself.

Now I was the one with sympathy in my eyes. I could tell that his past was not something he talked about often. Or, at all, for that matter. I felt strangely honored that he felt comfortable enough with me to talk about it. And I also felt rather sorry that desperation led him to a life of thievery. Didn't he know that money would never bring him the things that would truly make him happy? It would never bring his family back, for one thing. But I didn't say that. "Hmmm," I said instead.

"You can't tell anyone about this, okay?" he said quickly. "It could ruin my whole reputation."

Ah, yes, his reputation as the conniving bandit Flynn Rider. Indeed, an orphan named Eugene Fitzherbert who read books to his fellow orphans would ruin his reputation. Among his fellow thieves, that is. But for me? His repute improved the more I heard about Eugene. "Ah, well, we wouldn't want that!" I teased.

"Well, a fake reputation is all a man has," he joked back.

I laughed, even though I thought he had so much more than a fake reputation. I felt his gaze on me, and I looked back at him with a smile in my eyes. He seemed to have enjoyed our conversation as much as I had, and was that….affection for me I saw in his hazel eyes? My heart skipped three beats. Was he starting to….like me?

He suddenly stood up, breaking the moment. "Um, well, I should, uh," he stammered nervously. Had his heart missed a beat, too? "I should go get some more firewood," he said, and began to start walking away from me.

I couldn't let him walk away without something being said, even if it was me who said it. "Hey."

He turned around and glanced at me. What should I say to tell him that I enjoyed our talk so, and I thought Eugene Fitzherbert was a much greater person than Flynn Rider? "For the record," I said, "I like Eugene Fitzherbert much better than Flynn Rider."

He seemed to be very surprised by my words, and touched the hand that I had healed. Didn't anyone he knew care about the poor, lonely orphan boy buried deep within him? "Well, you'd be the first," he said, and I heard a twinge of sadness in his voice. "But thank you." He turned and walked away then.

But I felt glad that I had told him what I thought. I smiled as I watched him go further into the woods. You know, I thought, I'm becoming….quite fond of Eugene Fitzherbert.

Just then, a voice broke through the silence. A voice that I had almost forgotten. And a voice that I had not wanted to hear.