HOLY MINDNUMBING WRITER'S BLOCK OF THE SEVENTH HELL.

Hi, guys. How's it going? Everything good? Okay….

I'm sorry I was gone so long! You know I would never leave you! I love you all so much! I was just…busy. And because I am the author, I retain the privilege of withholding the reasons as to why I was so busy.

Well, I promise that I will NEVER take so long to update ever again. I adore you all. As always, review! And, sorry, NO SMUT this chapter.

UPLOAD DATE: November 16, 2013 (My birthday is in three days – Woo!)

Several hours had passed since both Eugene and Theodora parted ways and began their individual quests. Above him, the sun, shifting in its customary way across the expanse of the strikingly blue sky, now set itself opposite of Eugene, facing him as it inched towards the horizon. With it before him, wordlessly challenging him to rescue his love before it could complete its descent, Eugene pushed forward without thought. His legs, upon a will seemingly their own, advanced their pace every so often, forcing Eugene to slow himself then and return to the painfully sluggish pace he'd held before. Although moving quickly would help him find Rapunzel, he didn't want to risk exhausting himself beyond the ability to truly save her if he found her.

His thoughts shuttered to an abrupt stop on that one word. If. Lately, he'd noticed that the word had sprung up to the surface of his mind as often as symptoms of disease spring to appear on the fatally ill. If. The word was tinged with regret and guilt. Every time he used it, he seemed to be reminding himself of the very reason he was on this voyage. If. There was not a time when Eugene thought of his beloved that that word did not accompany her name. It lingered there, like the ever present illness that was the old Eugene – Flynn Rider – who still unwantedly offered his opinion on the matter and on Rapunzel. Her name and if were not far away whenever he cared enough to sadden his being, which had proved to be a whelping amount since the day he'd begun this quest.

If only he hadn't quit being Eugene. If only he hadn't stumbled across her tower. If only he hadn't caught her up in all of the messes he made. If he was as good as she, then maybe she could have been happy. If he had stopped the Stabbington Brothers when he had had the chance, then maybe she would be okay. If he had been smart enough to abandon faith in the growth of light in their horrendously corrupt beings, then maybe she would be here with him.

If – if – if.

There were so many ways he could manipulate the word to dig a wound far enough in his heart that a scar could potentially form – if one wasn't forming already. But they were all true. Every last if and would and could all held one thing in common: their veracity. Because he was to be blamed. He, despite the knowledge of experience, forsook sense and traded Rapunzel's soul for the redemption of his mistakes. There could be no one else but he and the Devil to capture the fault and he recognized that.

A deep aching set in his stomach.

How much time had passed since he ate? He hadn't stopped for food or even a break since leaving Theodora – and wouldn't. To him, that was an unnecessary waste of time. Now that he had even the slightest hint as to her current position, the fact that he even felt the hunger astonished him. If that was what this indeed was.

Although admitting it out loud would probably never happen, Eugene recognized the possibility that this could be a direct result of overactive nerves. In spite of wanting with every fiber of his being to see and hold and breathe Rapunzel again, that moment when he would, petrified him. He felt wholly uncertain with regard to his reaction. Seeing her and everything they'd done to her – because from the blood he'd witnessed on the shore, they had unquestionably done something to her and her independent spirit – could destroy him.

In his past, witnessing such violence never really irked him, but this was someone he loved more than anything in the world. He would kill them. But more importantly, he'd want to kill himself. Could he live with himself if she really was ruined by their hands?

Shaking away the dark thoughts, Eugene recognized the urgent pacing across the length of his broad shoulders.

Pascal, apparently anxious to reunite with his – presumably longtime – friend, jittered visibly with every movement he made, darting pensively back and forth from arm to arm. There was no stopping the hurried scurry as the chameleon was fidgety and nonsensical, chirping occasionally and then descending into a maddening silence for a long enough period of time. As Eugene observed the considerably frustrated creature – from an evident twitch of a stubby green leg to the curl of round green toe – he related to his irritation immensely.

His legs both twitched and ached to sprint forward and desert the leisurely stroll they took through the woods. He wanted to dump the animal into his pocket and feel the wind brush against his face and roar by his ears. He wanted to run until he was breathless and able to see Rapunzel's face light up for him again.

He wanted to be close with Rapunzel again.

That night – the night she'd first been abducted – he could recall perfectly the scene of lanterns as they enveloped their manageable wooden boat. Her face, illuminated by the golden, fiery glow, assumed the ideal role of sun to flame. On her own, she managed to look like an angel – as innocent and beautiful as only a creature of God could be. The dazzling green irises of her eyes glowed with a comforting, gentle blaze that only proposed comfort and salvation and love and trust. With the look in her eyes, he almost felt wholly free of the guilt that had begun to remind him of who he was in the original two days he'd spent with her. Somehow, she had managed to make him feel pure.

But then, just when his fingertips brushed across the silky flesh of her cheek and their faces leaned forward – just close enough that they were a hairsbreadth away from a sincere connection – he saw them. And, with just a look, they had managed to get their 'vengeance' and 'prize' and ruined Eugene's world.

Eugene deliberately slackened his pace, which had sped to an alleviating jog with the whirlwind of his thoughts. Time was passing quicker. His eyes caught the sun as it dipped down beneath the horizon. There would not be a way of telling how much time passed now. Only the moon would taunt him in its constant, high position in the sky. She would be full tonight, just as she'd been last night.

Pascal chirped.

Initially, Eugene dismissed the chirp as the beginning of another of Pascal's hourly tirades. It began with one, and then ensued into a thousand – so loud that determining the end of one cheep and the beginning of another became near impossible. But when the single chirp was preceded by nothing but silence, Eugene glanced in the direction of Pascal who stood, alert, perched on his shoulder.

Pascal did not acknowledge Eugene at all. The chameleon was too focused on the thick patch of trees, clustered behind them. "What are you doing?" Eugene whispered, his steps gradually easing until the two were at a complete stop. Once again, Eugene was brusquely overlooked.

Rotating to see what had grasped the chameleon's attention, Eugene observed the area. Pascal, not willing to relent his intense gaze, scuttled to turn back so that he faced it again fully. Another chirp escaped him when the winds raised and inevitably caused the trees to rustle. This noise earned Pascal's suspicion as the animal immediately chirped angrily and victoriously as if he had proven someone wrong.

"What are you looking at?"

Pascal gestured wildly at the patch, but Eugene saw nothing save some trees and bushes.

With slightly less patience – as the long day had grated on his nerves and his tolerance for loud and unnecessary chirps – Eugene repeated, "What are you looking at?"

By the time that Pascal responded to Eugene with several more inflated, exasperating chirps, Eugene decided that he'd had enough of the animal's noise and actions and would take matters into his own hands. With a riled stride, Eugene advanced on the cluster, determined because of the attitude he'd assumed with such intolerance: let's get this over with. Out of all the things which congested Eugene's mind and choked out his thoughts, Eugene could deal with a boisterous chameleon. And what he could get done, he would get done. Producing a whole lot of nothing made him feel like the actual probability of catching the Stabbington Brothers and saving Rapunzel wasn't high. So maybe this small little accomplishment would not only give him peace and quiet, but would also boost his dwindling energy and restore his original vigor.

The wind picked up while Eugene stalked over to the bushes, causing another noisy rustle to which the chameleon responded by racing down Eugene's arm, swooshing down the fabric of his shirt, and disappearing straight into his pocket.

Eugene spun to pursue Pascal, monitoring him perplexedly with his eyes before being abruptly shoved to the ground. "What the –" After colliding with the inconsiderate, hard-packed dirt of the forest floor, Eugene grunted and sought out the attacker, desperately scrambling for his knife. The floor had not only knocked the knife off of his being but also knocked the wind out of him, leaving him to gasp wildly while seeking out the weapon that could save his life.

Gleaming beautifully in the sunlight, the knife was a mere four feet from Eugene, cloaked by some high grass and the branch of a sizeable oak tree. Upon retrieving it in a dive, Eugene hastily spun over, teeth clenched and chest heaving only to find that his aggressor had fled.

In the distance, all there was to be seen was the shadow of the vagrant disappearing into the depths of the woods, fleeing for his life. Still in his taut position, Eugene breathed in several deep breaths through his gritted teeth before deciding that it was safe to stand and continue with his journey now. But, in spite of the very probable fact that this could simply be another bandit attempting to pocket off of Eugene's own stolen possessions in the night, Eugene could not erase the image of him escaping. Something about the form – too short and lean for a proper man – rang a familiar bell in his mind.

After wasting a slim amount of time pondering over the thought, Eugene refocused his mind on Rapunzel and ignored the chiming bell just as he had ignored Pascal earlier. He chalked to it up to a malnourished individual who was seeking a darker way of obtaining food. That, or a small, poorly parented child.

Knife clutched tightly in his hand, Eugene saddled himself down with the fact that he could die by the end of the night. Though the weapon provided little comfort and defense against the thought, Eugene felt somewhat more secure with the keen blade in his fist. At least then, he stood a fighting chance. He just had to make sure to rescue Rapunzel before all of that. If there was anything he wanted – needed – it was for her to be free. He could die and rot in Hell for thousands upon thousands of years before he would die without having the chance to save her. There would be no one else by then.

She would live a life of utter desolation.

A memory suddenly flooded Eugene's mind, turning his blood cold. The man bending over her, vulgarly gripping and marring her flesh. He couldn't overcome the despair in her face from that time. His light, his sun had dwindled down to a dark flame. She, who could bring laughter and joy to the most sorrowful and the most wretched, had descended from her holy altar in the sky to the dark abyss which harbored thousands of mortals. It drove him utterly mad!

Though the feeling was heavily tinged with his own personal guilt and an unexplainable feeling of jealousy and betrayal, Eugene felt an emotion of anger explode from him unlike anything he'd ever known. Was his body even remotely capable of producing such toxic loathing?

Heaven or Hell, Eugene would slaughter the Stabbington Brothers. Lyle and Auric would beg for their lives before he would allow them such a gift, if he did the deed himself. If anything at all, he could just leave them to nourish the forest animals at night. He could observe them from the branches of the tree he'd have them strapped to. But all of this not before he tortured them. Any blemish he found on Rapunzel would be reproduced tenfold on their worthless hides. That was a promise he'd eagerly make.

While entertaining thoughts of the seemingly infinite and appealing ways to rid the world of the Stabbington Brothers, a shadow returned to the walls of the forest nearby Eugene. As shadows did, it lingered behind him, trailing each step without missing a beat, tentatively, if not nervously, tracking his actions and steps. In the time since the shadow's encounter with Eugene, it had made a point to move discreetly and undetectably. But, because of the curiosity which had developed upon regarding the peculiar, irate expressions that malformed the handsome man's face, became distracted and stumbled terribly.

Eugene, who had never sheathed his knife, wasted no time. In some way, he knew the attacker would come back. Now was his chance to end it.

It took exactly two seconds for Eugene to lunge at the shadowed mass. It was behind him – to his left to be exact – and in an ideal position. With the angle of the turn, Eugene's right hand would be perfectly situated for slitting the man's throat. He could already see it, had already planned it out with a mathematical precision when he landed on the uncomfortable collection of bones and frail muscles.

The vagabond emitted a pained howl ensued by a desperate cry as Eugene scrambled to grip some poorly positioned limb. When his grappling hand, at long last, rung around the thin neck of the attacker, Eugene reared his arm back, knife impatient for blood when Eugene suddenly stopped.

Body taunt, breathing heavy, Eugene stared with crazed eyes at the woman currently straddled by Eugene's murderous form. She returned his stare, her emerald green eyes nearly a black shade when encircled by the redness of her eyes and frightfulness of her features.

Theodora was crying, petrified by the situation. She was following him only in innocence. She needed protection, he warded off evil. She had nowhere else to go.

"Please," she pleaded breathlessly, her chest heaving with each ailed breath. With his hand encircling her throat like a noose, Eugene reluctantly remarked on his ability to feel her heart pounding like a drum beneath the soft flesh. His hand whipped away as though she had burned him. When he finally broke from his frozen position, her gaze frantically flickered between the knife and his stare. The former was the only thing which still posed any sort of threat. But his eyes were equally as penetrating. "I'm sorry… I just – I wanted…" She was unable to from proper sentences.

Her paled lips curled awkwardly, snot and tears wetting them as she feared for her life. Sometimes she would open her mouth and close it again as though she couldn't push the words past her tongue, some odd barrier between thinking and speaking.

Eugene swallowed. He was dumbfounded. This girl – this stupid girl…was his attacker? How was that possible? As he viewed her thoughtlessly for several seconds, watching her mouth attempt to transform thoughts into words, he began to compare her to countless other women who did the same to the Brothers. The resemblance of fear and the helplessness to counteract it nearly thrust him off of her.

It took some time, but eventually Eugene found himself able to process his thoughts into a simple question, "What…are you doing here?"

Breathlessly, she craned her head at him, cautiously propping herself up onto her elbows. She hissed slightly, attempting vainly to suppress it as she raised herself up to a sitting position. Hiccupping from the tears, she barely glanced at him before drooping her head.

Eugene wondered momentarily whether or not she was ignoring him as she placed a clammy palm to her forehead. "Answer me," he sternly demanded. Now was no time for games.

"I – I, I'm sorry." Dirt streaked her (technically his) white sleeves and already brown pants. She didn't pay any heed to them as she ran her hand along her hair in one quick swipe, pushing back all the wild brown waves. It must have been days since she washed it. Eyes peeking at him for a fraction of a second, she exhaled and then proceeded to coil her fingers into the knotted mess of dirty waves frizzed about her head. "I needed some protection…. I can't let … that happen to me again."

He witnessed her face crinkle and cringe at the words. Tears escaped her lids, budding up onto the lashes inclosing her eyes. Immediately, he felt a pang of guilt. From his view, she was a mess. Her clothes hardly fit, her body was so petite that he couldn't discern the date of her last meal, and her hair resembled the disarray of her thoughts – the helplessness of her soul. Knowing that the Stabbington Brothers were to blame, he instantaneously encountered a sense of responsibility for her. He comprehended the irrationality of the emotion, but, still, was he not in some way to blame?

Pascal manifested on Eugene's shoulder.

"I can't help you."

Eugene had ground out the words. He had to rescue Rapunzel. How much time had she made him waste already?

She gasped.

"I'm sorry." Rotating himself away from her, wrestling every defensive instinct in his body, Eugene struggled to actually desert her. It wasn't right, but this was what had to be done.

"No! Wait!" From behind him, he could hear the grass brushing against her feet, the frantic shuffle of her clothes.

Eugene continued going. He wasn't a hero or a savior. The longer she stayed with him, the longer she was in trouble. With a courage surprising not only Eugene but herself, Theodora clutched Eugene by his sleeve and tugged him back towards her. What in God's name was she doing?

"You can't just leave me!"

Regarding her in amazement, Eugene yanked his arm out of her grasp. He returned to his path.

"Please," she scrambled around him, halting in front of him with her hands outstretched as though she was some mighty obstacle that he must overcome. An inch away from her hands, Eugene paused. "You can't just leave me out here by myself. You know what will happen!"

His formidable expression faltered for a second. Theodora acknowledged it as pity, dismissing it as quickly as it had happened. With one large shove to the side, Theodora was out of his way.

"I have my own problems. I don't need yours. You're just wasting the little time I have left."

Expression searching, Theodora regarded Eugene as he began to walk away. Something about what he had said, something about his expression – the way he was walking – rang a sort of bell in her mind. When his face cracked, there was obviously something hiding there that he didn't want her to know about.

What could that be?

She briefly returned to that awful day when those brutes attacked her, the two giant men and that unfortunate girl. Her mind stopped. When he had first met her, he wasn't half as determined as he is now. It was after she had told him about the two horrendous men that he had hurried her and himself along. Suddenly, all the pieces began to fall together.

"What do you want from them?"

Halting abruptly, Eugene swiveled around. "Excuse me?"

"What do you want from them – those two men?" Fear flickered inside of her when his face twitched. Maybe she had really gone too far and it was too much. He was a stranger after all. It was a blind faith that had led her to trust in him.

Eugene advanced slightly on her, slowing down upon regaining his sense. "That is none of your business." His heavy scowl forced her to clench her jaw. It wasn't until he spun back around that she even dared to think about voicing herself again.

"You want them. I can tell you do."

His patience was running very thin. Theodora rushed up behind them.

"You want them, I know you want them! Take me with you!"

"And why," Eugene burst out. "Why? Why exactly should I do that?"

Not flinching, Theodora responded, "Because I can bring them to you."