A/N: four things:

1. Can I just say how much I loathe Mother Gothel? I hated writing her in this chapter, and I hate writing her period. She's such pond scum. And the scum of the earth. And then just generally scummy (Paraphrased from Snail Mail No More). She's such a manipulative you know what. And if I had my way, she would have died a much more gruesome and painful death than falling out of a tower. I'm just saying.

2. Okay, so I know there's not much...Flynn Rider in this chapter. But there's plenty of Eugene, and this is (part of) the history that I imagined him to have. And I would have been very sad if I didn't actually write it down because I like it. You know what's funny? I love Eugene almost as much as Rapunzel if not more. Now, who would have guessed that when I first started writing this story? Not me. It's like his history is just calling out to me, begging to be told. Makes me feel like a real writer.

3. You know what's also funny? I get all my best ideas for this story either in the middle of the night or in the shower. Now how weird is that?

4. Thanks again to my loyal readers/reviews!

Disclaimer: I do not own Tangled

Chapter 11- The Two (Very) Different Mothers

"The remembrance of a beloved mother becomes a shadow to all our actions; it precedes or follows them"

-Unknown

"A boy's best friend is his mother."
- Joseph Stefano

My mother's voice broke through the stillness of the night. "Well! I'd thought he'd never leave." My eyes widened in horror. "Mother?" I whispered as I glanced behind me. Was that really my mother?

It was indeed-all five feet five inches of her, cloaked imperially in her long black cloak. "Hello, dear," she said calmly. Uh-oh, I thought, she is not going to be pleased that I left the tower. At all. Dread paralyzed me with its heavy weight on me, but I made myself get up and walk over to her. "But, but I don't…." I stammered. How on earth did she find me? It's not like we broke branches to let her know which way to go. Plus, wasn't she supposed to be off looking for my birthday present? "How did you find me?" I asked.

She wrapped her arms around me in what felt like a suffocating embrace, and stroked my hair. "Oh, it was easy really," she said. "I just listened for the sound of complete and utter betrayal and followed that."

I sighed. That was an explanation that was no explanation at all. However, I was not about to repeat the question. My mother appeared to be calm on the surface, but I knew she was likely seething underneath. Guilt for deceiving my mother added itself to the dread that I already felt. "Mother…" I began as I stepped out of her embrace.

She interrupted me and began to drag me away from the campfire. Loyal listener, any guilt I felt somewhat vanished then. If there was one thing that my mother did that completely infuriated me, it was her constant interrupting when I tried to tell her something. Seriously. Couldn't she just let me talk? "We're going home, Rapunzel," she told me sternly. "Now!"

I broke away from her, firmly placing my feet on the grass. Irritation at her interrupting filled me, along with the determination to stay with Eugene and see the lanterns. I didn't want go home with her. Not yet, not when I was so close to finally seeing my dream! And not when I was learning so much about the world around me. I couldn't just pack up and go home. I just couldn't! "You...you don't understand," I said. "I've been on this incredible journey and I've seen and learned so much!" Suddenly, I remembered the expression in Eugene's eyes during our conversation. I couldn't leave him yet, either. Not when he was becoming such a special friend to me…not when I yearned to learn more about him. "I-I even…meet someone," I finished shyly.

She smiled, but I could see right through it. Fake pleasure oozed from her. "Oh yes," she said sarcastically. "The wanted thief. I'm so proud." How on earth did she know that? Was she spying on me or something? "Come on, Rapunzel." She grabbed my arm again, dragging me further into the forest. And further away from Eugene.

I mustered all my strength and pulled away from her. "Mother…wait," I said. "I think…." His expression after our conversation filled my mind. "I think he…likes me." And I think…I might like him too, I finished in my head.

Mother scoffed at me, scornfully. "Likes you?" she repeated incredulously. "Please, Rapunzel. That's demented." I winced inwardly, somewhat hurt by being called demented. I'm nothing of the sort! If I was so…demented, then Eugene and I would have been beat back at The Snuggly Duckling. Not to mention captured by the guards. I opened my mouth, about to say as much to her.

However, dear listener, she was not finished with her condescending remarks. Oh no, not even close. "This is why you never should have left," she continued. "Dear, this whole…romance that you've invented just proves you're too naïve to be here." Irritation filled my veins. I had invented nothing! Could I have made him look at me the way he had? Not a chance! I opened my mouth again in protest.

"Why would he like you?" my mother asked. By the way, listener, I never actually outright argued with her, but boy did I in my head. Why wouldn't he like me, Mother? "Come on, now really." She scooped up some of my hair in her hands and shoved it in my face. "Look at you! You think that he's impressed?" I knew what the implication was-look at you, with your seventy feet of glowing hair, why would he want to be with someone that strange- and I resented it. You don't have any hesitations about using my glowing hair for yourself, Mother.

"Don't be a dummy," she coaxed. "Come with your mummy back home. I know best!"

I channeled all my irritation, resentment, and frustration into one word. "No!"

She looked completely shocked at my resistance. "No?" she repeated. Then a knowing gleam appeared in her eyes. "Oh, I see how it is. Now that you've had this….incredible journey…you're so grown up and mature now, you think you know everything." She condescendingly patted my head, like I was a young child. "You're such a clever grown up little miss!"

I began to say that I didn't think I knew everything just because I had left the tower and I didn't appreciate her degrading remarks, but she never gave me a chance. "Fine, if you're so sure of this…romance, then give him this!" she said. She pulled out Eugene's satchel from her cloak.

Stunned, I couldn't help but ask, "How did you…" How did she find that? Better still, why did she bring it with her?

She thrust out the golden, glimmering crown. "This is why he's here with you! He just wants his precious crown. Don't let him deceive you into thinking otherwise," she said menacingly. She tossed both the satchel and crown into my hands. I caught them carefully, especially the crown. I didn't want it to break-it looked so beautiful and shiny in the moonlight.

Mother wasn't done with her threats. "Give it to him, watch and you'll see!"

Since I was still irritated with Mother, I immediately jumped to Eugene's defense. "Fine, I will!" I said defiantly.

She found my defiance amusing. "Ha, Rapunzel," she laughed callously. "Just watch! Trust me, dear. As soon as you give it to him, he'll be gone as fast as you can say 'floating lights'."

I couldn't help but retort, "Floating lights! Oh, look, he's still here," I smiled smugly.

Her eyes narrowed. "You always were such a child." She put a hand under my chin and drew me toward her. "No, my pet, he'll leave you as soon as you give it to him. And since he's such a complete dreamboat, test him by giving it to him."

Me? A child? Her pet? I was eighteen years old, almost completely independent. How often did she actually help me do anything? I couldn't remember the last time I had to ask for assistance. Rebellion filled me my veins. "Oh, I will, Mother. You can be sure of that," I assured her.

She let out another cold laugh and pulled away from me. "You do that, Rapunzel. And when, not if, but when he leaves you, I won't say I told you so," she said as she began to walk away.

Although I was exasperated with Mother, I couldn't let her leave with such heated words between us. "Mother, wait!" I pleaded. Couldn't we work this out?

She smiled at me gravely. "No, Rapunzel. You have made your choice." Then she turned and disappeared into the darkness of the night.

The darkness of the night was now matched in my darkness of own mind. I stared down at the satchel and crown, pondering what Mother had said. Could it be true? Could he just be faking everything so he could get his crown? I had put up a brave front for Mother, yes, but honestly? I wasn't sure if he was being completely sincere. He seemed like two different people to me, and maybe that was, in fact, an indication that he was a fake and a liar in addition to being a thief. How did I know that Eugene Fitzherbert wasn't just an act?

Fear clutched my heart like a cold fist. Without thinking, I hastily hid both the satchel and the crown in a hollowed out tree stump. He couldn't leave me if he didn't know I had them. And I realized that I didn't want him to leave me either. I was enjoying our time together too much to wish he would leave.

A twig snapped. "So, can I ask you something?" It was him, back from collecting firewood. What do I do now? "Is there any chance that I'm going to get super-strength in my hand? Because I'm not going to lie-that would be stupendous." I almost managed a small smile. That was him all right, always cracking some kind of joke. Could I bear it if he did leave me? Any words of response died in my throat.

"Hey. You all right?" he asked. I didn't know what to say for a minute. What should I say? No, I'm not all right? My mother thinks that you're just faking an attachment to me to secure your crown? But even if you're faking, I'm not and my heart is deeply drawn to yours? No, not happening. Not a chance.

I glanced over my shoulder at him. He looked concerned enough, but maybe that was because he didn't want to drop any of the wood. "Oh. Sorry," I managed to say. "Yes." Liar! "I'm all right." No, I'm not! "Just…lost in thought, I guess." Well, that was true at least.

He shrugged as he began to throw more wood into the fire. "I mean, because here's the thing," he continued. "Superhuman good looks…I've always had them. Born with it. But superhuman strength? Can you imagine the possibilities?"

Dear listener, I have to tell you that I must have looked blankly at him for a second because what he said didn't register at all. My mother's warnings kept repeating themselves over and over, and I couldn't think of anything else. And even when I could think of something else, my brain was still stuck on my mother. And that's really the only way I would have said what I said next. My mind was a million miles away, and I wasn't totally thinking.

"Yes, superhuman good looks. And did those come from your mother or your father or both?" I asked absently.

He stopped throwing wood into the fire and stared at me. "What?"

Suddenly I realized what I had said, and sat heavily onto the log. Idiot! You just asked him more about his past! I covered my mouth with my hand. "I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking," I apologized. "You….you don't have to answer that if…if you don't want to."

He continued to stare at me, with a twinge of distress in his eyes. All my mother's warnings flew out of my head. Either he was a fantastic actor, or he had told me the truth before about being Eugene Fitzherbert. Because if he wasn't, why would he have looked as disturbed as he did?

I continued to glance at him, feeling full of remorse. "I'm sorry, Eugene," I apologized again. "Like I said, you don't…"

He held up a hand to stop me. "No," he said, his gaze now fixed on the glowing fire. "I'll answer it."

I was surprised that he was going to answer my question, because I knew, for him, my question was about much more than just simple genetics. It was about his parents' very identity. I whispered "Okay," and decided to keep silent until he spoke. I carefully folded my hands in my lap, trying to keep still.

"Most of my looks," he said at last, "came from my mother. My father….was never part of the picture, but my mother always told me that I had his eyes."

More regret filled me. How could I have asked him something like that so thoughtlessly? Pain was in ever single syllable that he said. "I'm so sorry," I said again.

Suddenly, his gaze went from the fire to me. "Do you…would you like to hear about her?" he asked slowly.

Would I! "I would love to," I said quietly.

He smiled sadly. "You would have liked her. She was always so happy, full of sunshine and light. Most of the time she was...more of a playmate than a mother. She was so full of spirit, and she was smart too. And I knew she loved me." Suddenly his gaze sharpened on me. "She was actually…a little like you."

Now, dear listener, most of the time if a man tells you that you remind him of his mother it isn't a good thing. But in Eugene's case? It was a compliment to me of the highest order. I felt warmed from the inside out and all of what my mother had said left my mind. "Thank you," I said. "What…what happened to her?"

The smile vanished from his face and he stared into the fire once more. "She, she…died when I was eleven. Consumption."

Consumption! Sadness filled me. Consumption was a perfectly dreadful disease-one that was very contagious and had no cure. "I'm so sorry," I whispered.

He looked back up at me, and I could see the sorrow in his eyes. "Thank you," he said. He blinked suddenly, and I could tell that Eugene was gone for the moment, and Flynn Rider was back. "Right. So, Rap….Blondie, we'd better get some sleep if we're going to see the town tomorrow," he told me.

I sighed. I hadn't missed Flynn Rider all that much. Or being called Blondie either. "Sure," I agreed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

We both found a place to rest our heads, and said goodnight. Eugene went to sleep immediately, and I could hear him snore softly. I, however, was much too keyed up to fall asleep. I lay on my back and stared up at the sky, thinking about what he had told me about himself and his mother. She sounded like a wonderful person, and I wish I could have known her. And I could tell that he loved her dearly. I swallowed a small laugh. Who would have guessed somebody like Flynn Rider would be such a mama's boy? Of course, I reminded myself, to me he would never only be Flynn Rider. To me, most of the time he was the sweet orphan boy named Eugene. With that thought, I drifted peacefully off to sleep.