i.

Her heart is screaming.

She doesn't know yet the words to describe a broken heart, but she feels as if her heart itself is screaming at her.

Get out, it says. Find him.

He is dead, she reminds it.

Her eyes close, her body relaxes into cold stone, and her heart raps a steady beat as time goes on. Her ears turn mute to the screaming.

ii.

Flynn finds a family as he tries to find her. He doesn't marry, he doesn't fall in love. But he finds other lost boys with no families and they join together on a journey to different lands. Any land. They don't know what or who he's searching for, but they don't have to know.

He becomes something like a Peter Pan to them, a character from an old tale that he shares one night around their campfire. He gives them what he's capable of giving them to stay strong and make it through their journeys. He's proud of each of his lost boys.

Sometimes times get too tough and he connects back with his talents from the old days. He always imagines green eyes staring steadily at him in his peripheral every time he steals for his boys. He comforts himself by never letting the boys see, and never telling them when it happens. He tries not to turn towards the eyes each time. He knows she won't be there, and his heart aches enough.

With each night that passes he becomes more comfortable in his Peter Pan position, isn't afraid of how easily his group falls into the trope. But there's two factors that will never connect and he tries each day, desperately, to overcome them.

He has no blonde beauty as his partner, and he wishes to heaven and hell he could teach these boys to fly.

iii.

It seems the more her hair glows, the more it fades.

Gothel doesn't notice, and the young flower hopes the woman doesn't. There's a right moment for everything and each second the hair grows is a second closer to the moment she's waiting for.

She is ready. When her eyes travel slowly to the sight of her hair trailing across stone floor and piled away from her where she sits in the corner on an old chair, she is ready. When the hair glows and saves that woman's life as she feels her own coming to a stale point, she is ready. When she feels no friend on her shoulder, when she looks through the small square of a window, when the tears won't come but choke her throat so that the gag isn't even necessary. She is ready.

Gothel leaves for a night on the town and the flower painstakingly stuffs her hair out the small window as her hands are still tied behind her back. The chair is rickety but tall enough to help her reach the window. She drops all her hair out and wonders where the appeal of it is, thinks of her mother, and father, and of a horse, chameleon, and dead man. Her heart beat continues steadily as she wonders where the appeal for this ugly hair starts, and briefly entertains a moment where the madness ends. Where her hair is just...hair. Just golden hair.

All for this, she thinks as she pushes the last of the bundle through the window. All for this.

She doesn't see the way the hair flows and waves with the breeze outside. She slides down the wall into the chair and can feel the tug against her scalp whenever a harder burst of wind blows.

Her eyes close as her body stills in silence, and she prays that someone will climb.

iv.

Flynn doesn't exactly know where they are, but the boys don't care so he doesn't either. He has four now. They each pull their own, are thankful for a place, even on the go, and Flynn is thankful of the moments he can be pulled away from his thoughts when they take a turn for the worse. Moments where there's a tug on his arm and he can be distracted by a question or a job or a chance to tell another story.

The boys' favorite story that Flynn has told is of a beautiful princess with powers from the Gods. They fall in love with the supposed beauty of this young woman and dream of the power she holds, all silently wishing they could be healed by a smile as bright as hers. Flynn doesn't tell it much and so the boys listen quietly whenever it's told.

It makes Flynn smile that even in absence her essence brings happiness.

The forest they're in is thick. The boys keep tripping on roots and after some time of scraped knees he makes them all hold hands. He's carrying most of their belongings on his back but holds onto the youngest boy with a steady grip, watching closely so they don't start a stream of trips.

He's focusing on feet, calling out in case eyes are too distracted to notice a cleverly hidden upturned root. The grass blends well with everything around them, is tall enough to hide the annoyance, and sometimes the boys get distracted by birds or sounds or the sun shining through the leaves of the trees.

One of the boys gasps suddenly and points at the sky to the right of them. 'Look!' He says, the boy next to him gripping tighter onto his hand as they almost fall in the distraction. Once they're steady the boy looks to the sky again and says, 'Look! Golden string!'

Heads swivel and Flynns' heart jumps from his chest to his throat. He stares as the boys exclaim wonderment and confusion beside him. Flynn is frozen, and the gold is so beautiful, and it can't be. It's been so long. It can't be.

'It's like the hair from that story, Flynn,' a boy says, and Flynn drops the hand he's holding and starts to run.

v.

Gothel doesn't notice.

She doesn't notice when the flowers' body suddenly goes slack and slumps in the rickety chair.

She doesn't notice when the golden strands illuminate, briefly lighting the darkened tower, before slowly fading out.

She doesn't notice because somewhere in a pub in town, her body seizes and she turns to dust.

Hair flows from a small window in a tall tower that is ugly and crumbling apart. It flies high from continuous breezes, and it is beautiful.

But - it really is just golden hair.

vi.

The boys are calling out to him and it isn't until one cries out in pain that Flynn stops and turns back for them.

They'll do this together, he thinks as he picks the youngest from the ground. They'll find their princess together.

He doesn't know how he knows. He doesn't know why it's suddenly urgent to reach the gold in the sky, but his heart is rapping against his chest in a pace too fast and somehow he knows they have to run.

They run holding hands and he calls out upcoming roots. They run through small creeks and find ways around wild branches. They climb rocks and over hedges, and suddenly.

Suddenly.

The hair is above them, falling from the smallest and only window of a crumbling monochromatic tower. Everything is quiet and Flynn drops their bags and reaches out to touch the hair flowing around them. The wind isn't strong and the boys are able to reach up, too, to touch.

'It's hair,' the oldest boy says. They twist it around their fingers and look from it to the small window above them in confusion.

'It's soft,' says another and he tugs at it.

'Don't do that,' says the youngest. 'There's a head attached to it all. Tugging hurts. Right Flynn?'

'Right,' Flynn says softly, and continues to stare, eyes wide as the strands fall through his fingers.

The boys are silent and watch him. The oldest steps forward and takes the hand that Flynn is repeatedly caressing the hair with.

'The princess is real,' the boy says.

Flynn nods.

'I'd like to meet her,' he says quietly.

Flynn looks from him to the small window.

Flynn says, 'Get the arrows.'

vii.

They use the arrows to pull at the rock covered entrance. It's actually easier than Flynn thought it would be. The thought doesn't comfort him.

The five of them run up the spiraled staircase that leads to the one and only room. They are gasping but they are staring at a barren wood door and Flynn winces when it easily opens so he can step inside.

It's stuffy. Flynn immediately notices that there's dust everywhere, that the most basic furniture that is found looks used, even though there's a thin layer of dust there, too.

And in the far corner, underneath the small window, there is a young girl sleeping in a sorry state of a chair.

Her wrists are chained to the wall. There is a rag tied across her mouth.

Hair is pulling at her scalp and falling out the window above her.

She looks at peace.

As the boys stay back, not knowing what to do, Flynn runs forward and gets to work.

'Rapunzel,' he says as he jimmies the lock around her wrists.

'Rapunzel,' he repeats and repeats as he unties the gag and pulls enough hair back inside the tower to stop it from pulling at her head.

He lays her on the ground and hovers over her, his hand under her neck and the other around her waist. The boys look on in nervous silence but Flynn doesn't notice, not anymore, the Princess Rapunzel in his arms, and he begins to panic as she remains unresponsive.

'Rapunzel!' He yells. Tears well in his eyes and fall upon her face. 'Rapunzel, please,' he rasps, and brings his face close to hers, hoping to feel breath, a hint of life.

'The song,' comes a whisper, and Flynn's head swivels to face his boys.

'The song,' the oldest says, and Flynn realizes they are crying, and he closes his eyes briefly because he gave them such a beautiful story, such an inspiring young woman, but now she's dead in his arms.

'Flower gleam and glow,' the boy in the middle sings, softly, and Flynn continues on in his head, the song unforgettable.

'Let your power shine, heal what has been hurt...' There's a pause and another voice pops up and continues. 'Bring back what once was mine.'

The boys continue until all four are singing together, a blind faith of a magic they've never before witnessed, and Flynn wonders how they can believe so fiercely even as he's holding death in his arms.

'Save what has been hurt,' they end, 'Bring back what once was mine.'

'What once was mine,' Flynn whispers as his tears fall upon her skin. A terrifying calm overcomes the room and he lets his head fall upon her chest, over her heart where he dreams to hear it beat.

There's the smallest sigh from above him and he ignores it in favor of holding her more tightly. The boys can wait, if only for a moment.

'I can't breathe,' someone whispers faintly, and Flynn notices the brief appearance and absence of a glow behind his eyelids as there's a yell of excitement from one of the boys. Flynn lifts his head as quickly and stares wide-eyed at a sliver of green showing through barely open eyes.

A deep breathe is took once he sits up and she says, 'Thank you.'

'Rapunzel,' he says, wonder in his voice.

'Rapunzel,' she says, then smiles the sweetest and smallest of smiles. 'That's right. Rapunzel.'

There are whoops of joy around him as Flynn laughs and Rapunzel blinks a couple times, recognition dawning and the brightest smile he's seen in years lighting her face.

Laughter and yells of joy surround the two as a healthy flush and shine slowly builds into Rapunzel's frame. She desperately wraps her arms around him, yelling, 'Eugene! Eugene!'. He grips back, and he decides it's finally time for Flynn to go back to his story.

Eugene flings out an arm and the boys come running to join the hug, and Rapunzel is introduced to his lost boys.

viii.

Eugene figures out their whereabouts from a pub in the closest town. They also figure out Gothel's whereabouts and take her ashes and clothing from the spooked bar man. They burn her that night in a bonfire and feel as if a wall is lifted, bracketing that part of their lives so that the future can safely start.

Rapunzel talks with the four boys a lot during their journey back to Rapunzel's kingdom and Eugene is happy and relieved that she also takes them as her own. Her love stretches across them all and Eugene feels as if they're flying.

The King and Queen welcome the entire group with tears and open arms, as do a horse and chameleon and a rowdy bunch of men that can't stop smiling with grateful and thankful tears in their eyes. Rapunzel helps the boys with introductions as she hugs and cries and squeals in delight, it is then that Rapunzel's mother notices that her golden hair is more tangled and matted than it has ever been in her life.

viiii.

Rapunzel and Eugene race to the highest tower in the castle, breathing heavy with laughter and exhaustion as they run up spiraling stairs. Rapunzel holds layers upon layers of brown hair in her arms, the weight shared with Eugene as he carries the other half. A short bob cut musses around her face and tickles the back of her neck and Rapunzel is smiling the widest she has ever felt herself smile.

Her cheeks burn. Her eyes glow. She feels the wind on her neck and nothing is golden.

They reach the highest tower and choose the biggest window. Eugene hands her what he had been carrying of her hair and Rapunzel steps forward and holds it all out the window. She waits for the strongest breeze the day can muster and relaxes her grip.

She lets the hair be pulled by the breeze and fly away with all the freedom it wills, and the only thing golden about the view is the sunrise in the distance.

Otherwise, it's just simple hair.