You Say Jump

Chapter 4: Eugene

Varian has come a long way since believing that Eugene was Flynn Rider. Perhaps Eugene has come a ways from how he used to see Varian.

"It feels good to trust you again, little guy," he tells Varian during Rapunzel's celebration following the Saporian defeat. Even if he had been initially suspicious of Varian's return to good, it does sound like he means it, punctuated by a kind pat on Varian's shoulder. Varian, one hand in that of his newly-freed father's and the other rubbing his neck awkwardly, gives a tentative smile back.

In that moment, his mind fresh with recent events, Varian finds himself comparing how different Eugene's touch is from Andrew's. It is inclusive, not possessive. His smile is inclusive, not private. Varian feels a tug in his heart– a familiar feeling, that of wanting to be something worthwhile in the eyes of another. Of his dad, of Cassandra, of Andrew. Now Rapunzel and Eugene.

It's at worst a flaw that has led to some of his poorer choices; maybe now that he understands himself better, he can use it for improvement.

Of course, turning over a new leaf is not as easy as the Princess' offer made it seem.

The people of Corona are generally kind people, but after Rapunzel publicly pardoned the alchemist whom they had villainized for so long, there were bound to be grudges. Varian ignores some things pretty well, like mean looks in the street or whispers behind hands as he passes (he's ignored as much from Old Coronans). Others– feet jutting out to trip him and muttered "serves him right"s, the word "traitor" painted on his door, snide remarks to his face when he initiates conversation ("Don't you have a kingdom to overthrow or something?") – can pierce like arrows.

And the red rocks come, in all their fear-amplifying glory.

Varian's always had an underlying edge of anxious energy sending him from one project to another, but he wouldn't say he's ever had anxiety . Until now.

"You tackled your fears, Varian! I knew you had it in you!" Rapunzel, ever the sunny side of any situation, exclaims. Varian can't help but smile back at her and feel some pride, but it lasts as long as the day's end. When night falls and he's alone in his bedroom again, the nightmare of his father trapped in amber as angry villagers surround him comes back full force, and this time there is more:

As he collapses to the base of the amber statue with hands over his ears, Quirin encased and Varian unable to placate the hateful accusations growing louder and louder, he looks up to find that suddenly it's all gone– his father, the villagers, the noise. He's alone in the dark emptiness of his broken lab, and the change is like being dunked in ice water.

"Varian," says an unknown voice from behind him. "Varian, get up."

He feels himself rise and turn to face an unrecognizable figure cloaked in shadows at the doorway. Their hand beckons to him.

"It's time for you to build me tools of destruction, Varian. Those automatons will do nicely."

"Wh-wha-what?" Varian stumbles into something cold and looks up to see the hulking form of his own weaponized robot towering over him, its eyes glowing like coals. He looks back at the figure in the doorway and clenches his fists. "No, I don't do that anymore. Why would I help you?"

Dark laughter echoes. "You don't have a choice. Come."

"No!" Varian cries, fighting against the pull on his feet as he obediently follows. "No, no, please!"

This is about where he wakes up every time.

It's not always the same– sometimes the figure is Andrew with his plentiful demands; sometimes rather than build, he's being told to attack his loved ones or leave Corona forever or some other awful thing. Each time he can't deny it. Each time when he wakes up shaking like a leaf in autumn winds, telling himself over the sound of his racing heart and a worried Ruddiger to "fight the fear, fight it, it's just a dream, it's not real"... he remembers that this mantra is not completely true.