Flynn's eyes succumbed to a pattern of sporadic jitters at the sound of her voice, a smile of supreme stupidity wiggled across his face. He didn't care what she did to him at this point— if her singing was going to be involved.

But before his eyes could droop any further in dazed contentment, they shot open; fixed on the girl before him.

Flynn's jaw seized as he saw the roots of her hair began a transformation. It couldn't be. He wasn't actually seeing each lock slowly illuminate in unison. He wasn't actually seeing her entire head aglow in a golden halo that rapidly began to flow like molten angel hair . And this glow was most certainly not wrapping around his hand right now...

He looked up. He could see that she was enunciating every word, yet there was sudden distortion clapping over his ears. The best way he could describe it would be if she were belting out full, powerful notes underwater; her voice beautiful yet blurred in the same way someone might smear thick, dusty charcoal over a silky skirt.

The suspicion he felt earlier…the one he felt guilty about? It was back, twisting tighter in his gut than the hundred thousand strands of golden hair roped around his palm.

But before he could react, his body locked in place. It felt like an overdose of venom blocked all signals to the brain, and this well practiced escape artist could not move a single hair, especially not hers. The high frequency of this realization was stunted by his dulling vision. His eyes were hypnotically closing in on Rapunzel's commanding verses. He was ensnared.

In a span of time that drifted into a void and felt never ending, Flynn hardly realized that the watery filter that seemed to deform Rapunzel's singing had died away. She began to talk again.

"Flynn? Flynn… open your eyes."

As clarity aligned his senses, he blinked and took a deep breath. Rapunzel leaned away, her fingers kneading her dress as she gauged his reaction.

Flynn took a few more long, thoughtful breaths. His eyes darted to his hand. With a quick glance at Rapunzel's watchful eye, he carefully removed the hair.

It was a best magic trick he'd ever seen. All that flashed through his mind were outlandish, baritone, hollering magicians; and the innumerable lot he'd exposed and swindled throughout the years of his thieving career. But nothing could compare to the physical healing, the re-sewing of flesh and skin tissue, and the complete ceasing of pain.

He continued to study his hand, mouth agape and mind frantic for answers. None were satisfying.

"H…how?" was all he managed.

"It's the only spell mother ever taught me..." Rapunzel admitted sullenly.

Spells? The woman did spells? And Rapunzel was acting like it was the most normal family tradition in the world. In fact, she looked heartbroken that she had not been entrusted with more "spells."

"SPELLS…?" Flynn deadpanned loudly.

"Yes, of course."

"Oh, of course! Yes!" the sarcasm scratched out of his tightened throat, and he immediately sat upright, trying to reel in any further mocking impulses. He didn't want to startle her in his hectic search for understanding.

"Spells of …what variety…beyond what you just showed me?" he seethed as gently as he could.

Rapunzel looked up at Flynn strangely. She seemed to suddenly realize something, and in truth, she did.

"You know…" her brows creased, "she says it's to ward off strangers…" her eyes flicked up to him again.

Flynn stared back, suddenly calm at the prospect of losing her trust. He hoped by now (as short and bizarre that time had been up till now was) might not be considered a stranger anymore.

"Everyone's a stranger at some point," Rapunzel said, as if to answer his questioning gaze. She lowered her eyes, pondering, "the thing is, it seemed to work all this time. All these years. So what happened? How did you get through?"

At the revelation that her "mother's spells repelled strangers," Flynn quickly felt his stomach knot up while recalling the violent, mutilating traps a slight brush of the hand would have triggered. With a need to hide away a beautiful girl deep within a corpse-like forest, followed by an underground tunnel, followed by another underground bunker, it would seem that her ability to magically ward off strangers was certainly moot. But then there was the business with this potentially fearsome healing ability that would require a thorough investigation.

Flynn's thoughts eventually descended upon two conclusions:

The woman really was a witch, and was losing her touch, thus she could no longer depend on spells to dissuade strangers from finding and exploiting Rapunzel, resulting in a desperate need for physical barriers to protect her, or...

The woman really was a witch, and the desperation to keep Rapunzel hidden at all costs was for her own nefarious desires, at the expense of other peoples lives...

The second conclusion made him shudder, but the weight of truth favored the less desired reality of bloodied traps and kidnapping.

Flynn wondered about what he had truly gotten himself into. A turbulent bout of fear he rarely got scrambled his well exercised skills and had him thinking on his feet with no foundation beneath. He needed answers. His life might depend on it. But he needed to accomplish his goal incrementally, and that started with gaining all of Rapunzel's trust. A little of it was going to get him nowhere, and could even be detrimental.

"First...um...thank you." He rotated his hand a few times and massaged it. "I can't think of proper words. This is...incredible. I mean, really how did you...?"

Rapunzel eyes lit up and her chest swelled as she suddenly stood up, nearly gasping. She looked absolutely immersed in the compliment. Flynn studied this with the tilt of his head. Rapunzel gave a choked, sputtering laugh and put a hand to her chest. She looked like she holding back tears. Clearly (and understandably) she was in an emotionally precarious state.

"Where I come from," Flynn mused calmly, "this isn't exactly normal, you know?"

Rapunzel nodded slightly. "I've been told that much..." she trailed off.

"Can I sit down again?"

"Yes, please!"

There was eagerness in her voice once more; the remnants from an emotional high radiating from her. Darker, sadder thoughts entered Flynn's mind as he wondered what kind of mother trampled this girl into such a frail, love-starved state. The more he discovered about Rapunzel, as little moments piled up and projected profound loneliness in every variation, the more he realized how damaged, and how dangerously incompatible she was with the world he knew, yes he knew...that he would have to introduce her into.

"I won't ask anything to make you uncomfortable but..." Flynn started.

Her standoffish reaction was expected.

"Can you tell me a little bit about yourself? Nothing about what you can do, or why you're here. Don't worry. Just you. Just Rapunzel..."

By her intrinsic character, she sat up, mouth wide with a smile and her eyes bright. But then she looked puzzled, and her nature was overtaken by circumstance. She'd never done anything like this before. She didn't explain herself to Pascal when she met him. She took time to gain his trust, and when that happened, their friendship grew abstractly and instinctively. It just happened. There was no drawn out exercise in etiquette and conversation to describe who she was.

"I…well…" In a way she had a million things to tell, and then nothing at all. At the very least, she had a million questions, but that didn't explain anything about herself, except that she couldn't figure out a starting point to her life story. She had no concept of narrative.

Flynn sat straighter. The same twisting anger in his gut brewed as his tense countenance took in the sight of such an intelligent girl bursting with talent and life, subjected to a kind of imprisonment even he had never experienced. How was it possible that she was not broken after all of this?

Then he saw fear cross her eyes. What did she really know of herself? Who exactly was she, other than a long name and even longer hair? What did she really know, other than what she desperately desired that lay out of reach due to a cursed law of the Mother?

"I don't …"

"Look," Flynn cut in before her emotions paralyzed her. "How 'bout I ask you some questions, and you answer. I promise they won't be scary or bad, or whatever else your mother associates with men."

It was a cut and dry response, and Rapunzel appeared to want to protest, but not for reasons Flynn was suspecting. Rapunzel hated that her distrust at this point was so evident. And she hated that Flynn could sense it so easily. She was trying with all her might to trust him after what he'd done. At this point, she trusted him more than she would ever like to admit.

Since she could put none of that into words, she merely nodded.

"Okay…how old are you?" he'd get that out of the way first.

"I'm 18."

Huh…older than he thought, and just barely into her prime. Being encased in this tiny bunker with little room to roam probably stunted some growth and development. He thought she couldn't possibly be more than 16.

"What's your last name?"

She stared at him. "What?"

"Yeah..." he droned, rubbing his head.

Figures that bitch of a mother figure didn't know or chose to conceal the girl's last name.

"You see, everyone has a last name, but not everyone knows it. It lets you know what family line you come from and where in society they stand. I for example, don't know my last name. I just know I'm the bastard son of a Herbert. I—"

Whoops…

"So Flynn Rider's your first name?"

Dammit.

"Ugh…" He covered his brow. Good going Eugene.

"Flynn is my first name. Rider is my…last name. I sort of adopted it."

"You can do that?"

"Well, I did anyway..." his eyes drifted.

She showed no sign of suspicion; just curiosity with ample confusion.

Flynn Rider had never been close to revealing his true identity from the moment he took on a new one. How did he get so close and so suddenly to screwing that up now? What on earth was wrong with him? It must have been this place. This cursed place was ripping his resolve right from his blackened conscience so that it could clean house in his heart; sprucing it up and making it fluffy and gentle. It made him nauseous, right up until his eyes met that of the girl he was interviewing.

He went on asking about her likes, dislikes, her skills, and eventually...:

"Your mother…um…she's kind to you?"

"Oh, yes- definitely."

"You get along with each other well?"

"Yes…why are you asking? Isn't that supposed to be normal?"

Flynn paused. "It's partly normal. It would be completely normal if you had two parents who loved you. What about your father?"

"She doesn't like to talk about him."

"Naturally," Flynn growled.

"She says he's one of the proofs of why men are so horrible."

"Hmmm…and what do you think of that now?"

"Well, she's wrong if she thinks all men are bad. You're not."

Flynn knew he was a terrible example to combat her mother's venomous opinion of men, but at least the girl figured out, even falsely so, that all men aren't of the nature that had been forcibly instilled in her.

"All right…I think that's enough for today." Flynn called it quits early. He didn't want to accidentally stumble upon the end of her existential stamina.

"Tell me more about you!" she hopped up as he stood.

"My life comprises of backstory I'd rather not talk about," came Flynn's instant wall of defense, "besides, there's a lot you wouldn't understand because you haven't experienced the outside world—something your mother kept from you." He knew it was a prickly remark, but he was getting tired of tip toeing around this mythical mother beast.

That sentiment worked better than Flynn realized. Rapunzel's eyes glanced to the door. The outside was beckoning again. It missed her already and was eager to drape her again in a warm caress. What on earth was so dangerous about it? And now that she tasted its abundance, previous regulations of the gruesomely forbidding nature was starting to grate on her. She couldn't defend 'protection' as a reason anymore. It seemed like a vanishing apparition that lost it's ability to haunt.

But nearly two decades of knowing only warnings and threats from the only person she'd ever met in her life, still stirred this preposterous guilt. She lowered her head. Flynn couldn't tolerate the dejection in her lively eyes.

"How about this…we'll set ground rules. As we get to know each other, we'll go back and forth. You get answers out of me, and I'll get answers out of you. That way we'll feel less and less like strangers. Until we aren't anymore."

"We can be friends?"

Flynn inhaled. "Sure." His thieving instincts protested loudly, but he didn't answer them. "For now, lets take a break. It's best to take small steps when you learn new things, and rest often. Want to go on a walk?"

"Please answer me one thing!" the pleading in her voice startled him. "Just one thing. It's been bothering me more than ever since I met you, I have to know because it confuses me so much I...I get depressed!"

Well, she probably wasn't looking for that word, but the last thing Flynn wanted was to see her depressed. Still, he was wary of the upcoming question.

Rapunzel waved her arms a bit, took a breath and tried to focus. She was overwhelmed by the real prospect of a resolution to a grand quest. She didn't want to mess up the delivery and risk getting no answer for all her mental travails.

"What, um…what makes men so different? I can see that you look much different. SOOO much different. REALLY different! But we have lots in common! There's so much more I can feel it. I just can't…I...I can't..." she began shaking her head, trying to wrap her mind around her powerful instincts, trying to put the right words that vacated just at the edge of her understanding. But she couldn't rationalize it, and the frantic stammering and breaths that escaped her mouth instead only cascaded her inner turmoil. She wasn't getting her point across. The path that led to the end of this emotional journey was crumbling away.

Flynn stared at her wide-eyed.

Oh—

He stood straight, hands flattened on his tense thighs. He did understand. He understood very well.

Without a word, he held up his hands to calm her, and he nodded in further reassurance.

"Um...well..." he chuckled, shuffling and trying to gather himself. Rapunzel stared at him earnestly, eyes red, unblinking and fixed on his handsome but slightly tense features.

"Ugh huh…heh heh," Flynn coughed in dismay as the well conditioned, frequently fresh perverse thoughts cornered him."Well we're…um...we should talk about this later." He bailed. No resolution. He turned to the door.

Rapunzel watched him, mouth slightly agape and eyes firmly set. She signed heavily like she had seen this many times before.

"It's the same with her..."

Flynn turned around, "What's that?"

"Mother does the same thing when I ask...I... sorry, I guess it's the same where you come from too..." such quiet, accepted defeat in her tone stirred something new and distraught in Flynn.

"Wait- What do you mean?" as much as it pained him, Flynn was eager for another insight into Rapunzel's growing list of psychological torments, and of course, the disgusting cause of it all in this mother bitch.

Rapunzel was silent, but her mind wasn't idling. She was deep in thought, and Flynn somehow knew he was going to be impressed with her answer.

"Well, first…mother doesn't explain anything plainly the way you have…she has a tendency to dodge my questions. If I pressed further, she'd get impatient with me and tell me, 'some other time.' And when I ask her about men and women, and where people come from,and how many are out there, she…well its actually the only reaction she has that's similar to yours. Its always a mixture of frustration and embarrassment."

Flynn didn't like having any similarities to her mother, but if he was going to have a particular one, at least this one was understandably disarming. He decided to approach this as casually as possible for now. They can get into details...later.

"Let me put it this way, Blondie. Without women, there couldn't be men, and without men, there couldn't be women. They need each other to exist, survive, and…create more." He paused awkwardly, "didn't your mother go over any of this? Was she planning on keeping you here forever? Weren't there plans for the future? Something like, 'One day, Rapunzel, you'll be able to leave this place, but for now, I have to protect you. Let me tell you what I need to protect you from, and once you understand, you can go,' sort of deal?"

Flynn worried he was suddenly asking too much of her emotionally, but the words came out before he could stop them. He silenced himself and waited, wondering just how much she took in and how much she couldn't.

"…Mother never spoke of me leaving in the future... " she eyed her hair. "As I grew older, I began questioning her more, questioning the need to stay here—asking if I could at least go outside without straying far. I was too terrified to wander anyway. I knew there was grass..."

She turned to face the ceiling window, the familiar ray of golden sun dancing through the opening.

"It falls through the window sometimes. And sometimes bits of it get on her cloak when she returns. As often as my mother left, it was still hard to understand the idea of walking on it ...since it's always been above my head..."

Flynn's fists were balled up and his breathing was short and deliberate. A whirl of pure emotional rage thundered through him so hard he could hardly see straight.

"Rapunzel…" he breathed. There were so many things he wanted to tell her; so many things he wanted to reveal. But he could do nothing... for now. He was bound in a way that no rope nor chain that ever cut into his raw flesh could compare. His patience was being tested to its thin, wasted outer limits. But good thieves were very patient…

"Let's go on that walk," he exhaled.

Rapunzel sighed, a little spent by the emotional exchange. She nodded with a smile and followed him out.

This time, they wandered a little further. She was noticeably apprehensive about nearing the tall expanse of trees, but her invisible barrier expanded up to the significant change in taller, denser grass. She was even less dependent on Flynn's constant companionship, although she frequently looked for him to make sure he wouldn't suddenly vanish from existence. Among every other impossibility she experienced today, it seemed perfectly plausible.

Flynn was curious of something he noticed when he first arrived, but was too distracted on too many occasions to investigate. Now that the girl was comfortable exploring more freely, he took the time to find just where the perimeter ended. There was something odd about how the ground and cliff met, almost as if there was a massive ditch separating the two. But at a distance, he couldn't be sure. He was going to find some answers to this strange place, and decided to head toward the nearest wall.

The bunker itself rested in the middle of several acres of a flat green lawn of sorts: short, thick, and dense with translucent grass. This flatland was encompassed by high rugged cliffs that surrounded it in a circular shape, with the highest part of the cliff being where the main tunnel entrance was; the portion that led upward to the dead, mangled forest. A series of powerful waterfalls started near this cliff, formed a deep river and eventually turned in a thin babbling brook that ran to the complete opposite side of the of the tunnel entrance.

Flynn looked in the direction of Rapunzel. She was darting around the forest threshold, growing ever bolder but always stopping short. Flynn found it interesting that the flat expanse ended abruptly where the cluster of trees began. It seemed less like a meadow, and more like a deliberate creation. His eyes drifted again to where the buried tunnel entrance was, and the well worn brass ring he dared to put his hands upon. He thought of Henry, and why the bird hadn't just flown down from the cliffs. Why did he need to trouble himself with following down the musky tunnel? Flynn suddenly became disturbed by the realization that he hadn't seen a single bird fly overhead. He pressed onward, determined to reach the foot of the cliff before Rapunzel could panic about his distance.

As Flynn drew near, his suspicions were confirmed. There was indeed a ditch, except that it was far wider than he thought. His brisk walk slowed significantly, until finally he halted. Flynn stared down. An icy chill trickled down his calves and tilted his balance. He wanted to step back but he couldn't. He needed to take this in. His mind was flooded with more questions than before, and answers wouldn't dare surface. All that went through his mind in response to those questions…was ways to devise an escape. Ways to get out of here. They needed to leave. They needed to leave now. They needed to make sure they never faced this 'mother' again.

Down below his feet, a warm, discolored fog gently rolled within the depths of the ditch, revealing here and there in its wispy movement, thousands and thousands of bones turning to dust. Some of them were human.

"Some of them are human…" Flynn whispered jaggedly. His brows creased. Why were most of them birds? He saw only a few skulls resemble some kind of rodent, but other than that, bird skeletons reigned in this ditch. Flynn shook his head. He couldn't fathom any semblance of reason into the bizarre and disturbing scene. His eyes drifted upward, and he froze, dearly hoping his suspicions were only that.

About a hundred feet up, he could detect what appeared to be a water mark. His eyes roamed and confirmed it. The mark spread through the entire encompassing cliff side. It was difficult to see without intending to find it. It would seem this place was once full of water, but this supposed water mark only aroused his suspicion more, as his eyes drifted back to the ditch of bones.

"Something like a watermark so high up," he began, feeling insane, "only birds can reach that height. Some rodents, and some humans can, but only if…" he looked up at the mark again, "they climbed…"

But what was the connection? The conclusion he was drawing was driving him mad. it couldn't be possible.

"Did Henry never fly down from the cliffs because…because he knew it would kill him?"

Flynn's eyes roamed repeatedly over the graveyard of birds below, and rested fearfully on the humans. Were they the bones of Rapunzel's would-be rescuers? Were they her supposed knights in shining armor? Were they her Princes coming to her aid? Were they thieves like himself, wandering too far, enthralled by her singing voice?

His eyes went back to the mark. He needed a definitive answer. He looked around himself and found a small stone. Flynn picked it up and hurled it upward. His prolific upper body strength easily sent it colliding with the line, yet nothing happened. He looked around again, but there was only—

"Oh, hey Pascal," he said in a friendly tone, but then he shook his head. For Rapunzel's sake, he wasn't about to hurl Pascal past the mark to see if the chameleon would combust. Though the idea seemed slightly funny if it wouldn't result in the lizard turning into a pile of bones in a ditch—

Oh…God…

Flynn was so rattled by the revelation, he was shivering. Could it be possible? Is this how the...witch, he was sure of it, kept any and all strangers out? Was that mark indicative of an invisible barricade that kept all living things from entering, except by the underground tunnel? It had to. It was all adding up, but he couldn't fathom it. Was she really a witch? Was she really a witch?

"Flynn?" came Rapunzel's airy voice. There was a hint of panic in it. Flynn bent down and opened his palm to the chameleon.

"Come on, Pascal." Pascal hopped on and Flynn jogged as nonchalantly as he could in the girl's direction, even as she ran toward him with all the might and energy that remained in her. Flynn managed to reach her, looking just mildly less disturbed than her.

"You all right?" he asked.

"I was just worried. I didn't see you for a moment, sorry."

"You don't need to apologize for small things like that, you know. Besides, I can't disspear anywhere. The only way out is where you mother comes from."

Rapunzel looked up at him. It was a bit sneaky, but Flynn deliberately planted the thought. He needed her curious nature to latch unto the idea of leaving, even if it brought some fear.

"You look tired," he said.

"Yes," she admitted, still catching her breath. She was going to sleep well tonight. But for now, she insisted on wearing herself out further.

The rest of the day was spent exploring the brook, smelling different flowers and staring warily at the trees. Flynn stayed by her side but kept his eyes on the cliff. Still mulling over the brooding ideas in his head. This didn't go unnoticed.

"What do you keep looking at? Can I look?"

"Rapunzel, I don't want to sound like your mother, but I need to give you one warning."

Rapunzel stood at full attention, eyes marked on him. His seriousness was unexpected and unsettling.

"I really do want you to go wherever you like. I want you to explore. But please...don't go near the cliffs edge. Any part of it."

He looked at her to see how she would register this.

She nodded slowly, and suddenly a coldness loomed and cast a shadow over her happy eyes. It was like a switch. Within a span of seconds, she immediately understood all at once, that this was all a very bad idea; or perhaps, resurrecting an admission she long buried while it still lived, a realization of just how much she had been disobeying her mother. Flynn saw her transform into a different person, as the mother induced guilt cornered her into a dark place she despised but was very familiar with.

"I think... I want to go inside now..."

"You're not doing anything wrong," he reassured her. "There are some things your mother is right about..."

Rapunzel nodded again, fidgeting with some hair. "I'm getting tired and...um...I'll make dinner."

"I'll help you," Flynn was quick to volunteer. The darkness that enveloped her was concerning. He desperately hoped that her abused conscience wouldn't suddenly embrace old confines in a bout of practiced madness. He supposed he would know at the gate. Would she let him follow? Would she actually ask him to leave? Would she suddenly put up a wall around her heart at the reality of her mother's eventual return? Flynn stumbled headlong into dread and regret and could find no escape. Why did he speak? Why did he break the spell with zealous concern? He suddenly came to a realization that this could all end right here and now for the sake of protecting them both; that it could all be treated like a faraway dream.

Without another word, Rapunzel slowly walked over to the bunker. Her were eyes low and her mind deep in thought. She reached the steps and Flynn quietly followed, trying to be as inconspicuous as her shadow. It was a role he was used to. A role he was good at. If ever there was a time he needed it more in his life...

Rapunzel never wavered when crossing the threshold. And she imparted no rebuff or cold separation to Flynn when he followed. He breathed with ease— he should have known. They could maintain the act for now. Flynn was resolutely aware and continued to remind himself that this was a play of sorts; to agree to pretend that the mother's entrance was not imminent, and that they enjoyed this secluded cluster of enriched land comfortably to themselves. For Flynn, this was a problem that needed solving. For Rapunzel, this was a problem that needed denial.

The sprightly girl made her way toward the kitchen nook. Being inside gave her a boost of relief and with it, energy. Flynn left the gate and door open. He wanted to make it abundantly clear that it was okay for it to be like that. He heard Rapunzel start to hum, and now, the need for respite was overtaking him.

Twilight was about to end, and the crickets were in full evening orchestra. The sun rays had faded from the ceiling window, and Rapunzel closed it for the night.

The pair talked a little, but for the most part, kept deep reflections and thoughts of the day's happenings to themselves. Today was like no other, and tomorrow was terrifying for both.

It was barely past sunset, but Flynn could see how tired Rapunzel was. Mentally, and to a surprising extent, emotionally, Flynn was spent himself. He suggested something he wanted to elaborate on as little as possible: sleeping arrangements.

"Just a few blankets and a pillow will do…" he insisted without looking at her. He also insisted that he should sleep by the entrance, and that he'd play the role of personal body guard, or some silliness like that. Truth was, it was as far away from her room as possible, which was difficult to manage in the mostly square living space.

"You're sleeping on the ground?"

"Completely reasonable where I come from." He didn't want her to inquire further, casting off the situation as perfectly commonplace.

But Rapunzel was concerned, and after examining the unusual spot he picked to sleep, was quickly interrupted by his nervous chatter.

Rapunzel looked up at him. This was another new behavior he was exhibiting, and she found new energy to study it. Flynn made the smart move of acting more tired than he really was.

"If I could just have a few sheets you don't mind getting dirty to lay on the ground, so I don't get it all over me. It's the only luxury I ask for, if you can provide."

Disappointed in the lost opportunity to learn more about him, but happy to supply comfortable provisions, Rapunzel, with surprising demureness, doted several armfuls of fluffy, down filled bedding into his arms, and then lingered rather solemnly and nervously. There was something alighted in her eyes, something devoutly serious as she watched him with a rapture that wasn't as prevalent before. Perhaps it was the exhaustion catching up to her. Perhaps it was seeing devotion from a stranger that believably declared himself an overseer, a protector of sorts. (Had he not set her free in the first place?) Perhaps it was the staying power of that devotion that seemed more permanent by the act of bedding down and seeding a peculiar permanence in her heart that she now felt she couldn't be rid of.

Perhaps it was the nighttime, throwing muted colors, darker shadows, amplified sensations and a pulsing atmosphere that was transforming this man in front of her into something instinctively coarser, sterner, wilder; hiding, yet plainly seen within the longer shadows and starker contrasts of his face. This was the same man. The same Flynn Rider. But there was something more to him, and Rapunzel's instincts could not be satisfied till she knew what he was suppressing. Something was radiating off of him, and she was compelled like a moth.

"You look like you could use some shut eye, Blondie." His voice was low, parched and punctured with misery. Rapunzel would have been more thrilled had he not sounded so utterly absolute. "I'll see you in the morning. Good night..."

Rapunzel took a breath. Another spell broken. Twice by him. Was he going to make a habit of this? More frequently she seemed to be stumbling closer to certain boundaries he, for now, would not entertain. She was aware of that much. And since she didn't find comfort in his hurried, impromptu stoicism, she would relent to bothering him about these distressing subject matters another time. The idea of bothering him, and finding amusement in it, was part of the thrill that so often brought her in front of him with admiration in the first place. The fact that he had enough humor and kindness to be bothered was a treasure she could find little to compare it to. And right now, she wished she could bother him more. She was becoming more comfortable doing it. And he seemed to enjoy it.

"G-good night..." she stammered finally, accepting the temporary defeat. And she did intend for it to be temporary. Where and why the need to be competitive with Flynn arose from, she didn't know. The night was doing strange things to her, far bolder than the day. Even more so, the mental and emotional oddities increased with Flynn's presence for some reason.

Before Flynn would dare register any more of her, he laid down and kept his back to her. He even covered his head with a blanket, as if it would somehow block out wandering lewd thoughts from entering.

"You can take the lantern with you. I don't need it," he said to get her to retire even sooner.

"Oh, okay. See, um...well...I really will see you in the morning...right?"

"Of course... Sleep well..." he murmured darkly.

Rapunzel clamored to her room. The curtain of blonde hair following her. The door locked. The light went out shortly after.

And Flynn lay alone in the swarthy darkness, pensive and grim in his airy, sweet-scented prison. He wondered if it would become his tomb.