Author Notes: This chapter is important. I can feel it before I even start to write it. This will perhaps be one of the most important chapters. I think things start to climax and fall after this. Eh. Maybe it's just a little bump. We'll see, though, won't we. Got some crazy stuff planned so enough of my rambling and onward!

~!~

Incomplete

~!~

Chapter 10: Elizaveta

There was a lot to do in the time before Homecoming week. The talent show was placed on the Wednesday before the game. The football game of which this all revolved around was on a Friday of course. Our school wasn't particularly pumped up about the game though. Our team was awful compared to the big city ones, and no one cared to comment on it or even go to their games half the time. I felt a little sorry for the band kids who were forced to go because of their commitment to marching on the field, but then again that was an elective they chose. Funny how Gilbert could play flute and not participate in the band, but then again I doubted the band director would want to deal with his hooligan acts so there was probably no active recruitment going on in that area anyway.

But I wasn't worried about Gilbert here. I was worried and focused on Roderich. In the past two months, I had managed to make friends with him, which was both a good thing and a bad thing, I guess. There was no telling if the infamous friend zone went both ways. I knew girls who would refuse to date guys because they were friends – my best friend Lili was one of these – but I wasn't so sure if it worked the same way for guys or not. Roderich seemed to enjoy my company. He hadn't made any moves to hold my hand or touch me in any way, though a part of me wanted to trust that it was just his proper upbringing making him super careful about what he did. At the very least, I could hang out with him when all the other fans of his were forced to sit outside the practice room. Roderich's practice time was our time and as strange as that was, I honestly enjoyed sitting on the floor listening to his playing while I worked on homework.

Or in this case day-dreamed about sitting on the floor listening to his playing.

A note falling onto my desk broke me out of the day dream. Well, I was sure the tap on the shoulder helped break me out, too, but the note grabbed my attention more. It was folded crudely, although there was a little attempt of a special little hook this time. An attempt. Gilbert hadn't grown any better at his note folding since the first day of classes, but his subject matter at least had matured quite a bit. Perhaps some of it came with feeling like siblings or friends now. As much as I had fought the idea, it happened anyway. I guess there wasn't much you could do when you both learned intimate secrets about the other throughout the time spent in the same house.

Opening the note, I felt my face twitch, unable to decide if I should laugh or growl. "Hey, Lizzy, this one time at band camp I shoved my flute up...well, no, I can't say that joke since I never went to band camp, but I was day dreaming about whether or not I could shove it up inside you. If you know what I mean."

Oh dear god he was disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. Like a perverted teenager.

I sighed at the thought. Of course he was a perverted male teenager. Hormonal jerk of a guy. So, I kept my cool and scribbled back on the note. "Can't you ever day dream about anything besides sex?"

I tossed the note behind me, not even bothering to indicate who it should go to. By this point, the guy behind me knew exactly where it went. Gilbert was notorious for passing notes to me, and I couldn't ignore him anymore. Ignoring him led to more embarrassment later, so I had learned quickly to go ahead and fall for his distractions. Besides, just like before, the math lesson was easy. Not that I'd learned how to solve these problems before, not like this, but it was easy to pick up because the teacher was so slow and the other students were usually confused and slow to understand anyway. I had to do something with my time, so why not?

When I heard a snort behind me, I glanced over my shoulder to see the white haired red-eyed punk leaning over his desk to scribble out his answer. Unlike the first day, his clothes looked well taken care of and the right colors. My dad was taking care of Gilbert, and it was sort of weird to see the changes in him just because of the small things my dad was doing for him. Maybe his earlier home life really had messed him up and my dad was right about giving the rowdy albino a chance to change for the better. Maybe.

Before Gilbert could see me staring, I turned back around and waited for the note to fly over my shoulder. "I'm a guy, Lizzy. What do you expect? Especially when I get to stare at you all morning. I really can't help it when you make yourself look even sexier every day."

I rolled my eyes as I read. Okay, it was a little flattering. A little. And a little gross at the same time because this was Gilbert being a pervert. Not exactly what I wanted from a guy, even if the attention and compliments on my looks made my self esteem feel stroked.

"You can't use the excuse that you're a guy. Roderich is a guy and he doesn't make comments like that. He's sensible and refined and gentlemanly. You're just a pervert day dreaming weird sex with me and your flute. If you're trying to pick me up, that's not the way to go about, you know."

This time, I heard a groan when the note got back to him. It was quickly covered up and drowned out by the sound of pencil on paper, but it was there.

"Who said anything about Roderich? That guy is too much of a pansy to ask you out even though you've been hanging around so obviously waiting for it."

My face heated as I read and responded quickly. "I have not! And he's just been patient and considerate. That's all."

Our note passing suddenly became a flurry of movement. Quick responses. Fast and furious. Like we were having a heated argument even without saying anything out loud or raising our voices or getting the chance to move our bodies in response to our words or anything.

"You are too. You hang around him all the time now, and he should have done something by now. But he hasn't. So he's a wuss."

"Oh yeah? What does it matter? It's not like anyone else is asking me out anytime soon."

"You sure about that?"

"Please. If you wanted to ask me out you wouldn't sugar coat it with talks of sex, Gil."

"Hey, at least I'm honest."

"Honesty only goes so far."

"And you wonder why I'm waiting before asking you out."

I read the note, twice over, before the meaning hit. Gilbert wanted to ask me out. Gilbert actually had the nerve to believe he could ask me out. What on earth gave him that idea? I toyed with the image in my brain and had to fight the urge to throw up right there. Kissing Gil would be horrendous, nothing like my day dreams of kissing Roderich. Like I would ever say yes to the jerk of an albino. I could barely stand to be friends with him, even if he was getting more bearable as the days passed.

"You might as well wait forever," I sent back, pretty sure that would end the subject for good.

The response was the quickest yet and only a single word.

"Okay."

~!~

Later that same day, after school hours, I sat in the same practice room as before listening to Roderich Edelstein practice his Liszt. He still hadn't gotten the movement or the piano-rock-star attitude down, but the music was coming along nicely at least. Then again, I couldn't bug him about the attitude in his playing because he had picked a softer song. Love Dream, I think was how it was supposed to be translated. I could only imagine the announcer of the talent show trying to pronounce the actual name. Liebestraum by Franz Liszt performed by Roderich Edelstein. Yeah. It would probably be best to look up the English translation.

Everything sounded wonderful as I worked on the finishing touches of Roderich's Liszt costume. Well, everything except the hollow tone of a wooden flute. The small practice room had a single window, but the window was broken so any attempt to completely close it and block out the sounds – or weather for that matter – of the outside was impossible. On a second thought, it was no wonder Roderich wasn't completely happy with the tones of the piano keys; the leaking weather probably had an adverse effect on the piano strings. The flute playing outside also had an adverse effect on his practicing, though, and it was starting to annoy me more than usual.

Tossing the costume to the floor, I got to my feet and stomped over to the window. Before I could even set my hands on the window to force it open – see, it opened fine; it just didn't close all the way like it was supposed to – the flute sound cut off mid run and I heard another voice on the other side.

"Gil, there's trouble."

"What?" Gil's voice barked, sounding almost German accented with its harshness. "What kind of trouble, Toni?"

His friend sounded worried, which was strange because if it was the same Spanish friend I remembered from class then I wasn't very accustomed to hearing Antonio Carriedo be anything but happy. The typically carefree attitude was gone. Which made my heart beat even more as I leaned in against the wall and listened in. Roderich continued to play, ignoring everything else in the world as musicians tended to do when in a serious practice mode, but I was officially curious and incredibly concerned.

"Big trouble, Gil," Toni muttered. "We have to go."

"Go where?" Gil muttered back, though I heard his voice move up, like he was rising from a seated position. The jerk had been practicing under this window on purpose then. "You know there isn't very many places we can run here."

"Yeah, but, it's better than the school, amigo," And there was the Spanish, followed by a string of words that sounded like some prayer, something Antonio was only known to do when excited or nervous. "Your employer found out I was helping you. Apparently they're part of our rival gang."

"Ah," Gil groaned. "Shit."

"Si."

I froze, trying to catch my breath even as the voices moved and became softer. They were running away, running somewhere, but my mind was a little caught, unable to jump the bridge that had just been thrown in front of it. Gang. Rival gang. That's what the Spanish guy had said. Since when had Gilbert been involved in gang movements? Since when had the carefree, happy-go-lucky Antonio? Neither one of them seemed like the type. Well, on the surface Gil could pass for it, but I knew too much about him to not have known this.

How could he be hiding this from me? Why didn't he tell me? Is that why he disappeared every night? What the hell was he doing working with a gang?

Employer. Rival gang. Should I tell Dad? Would that only make things worse? Oh...god...

I fell to my knees against the wall, put a hand to my mouth when I felt the nausea rise up. The music had stopped. A hand was on my back, rubbing gently. But there was faintness. Faint. Vision going fuzzy. Was it even possible to pass out from shock?

I woke only a few minutes later with Roderich hovering over me, a frown on his face. I was lying down, the costume forgotten on the floor beside me, and the dizziness was the first thing to assault me when I tried to sit up. When I put a hand to my head, Roderich put a hand on my shoulder, pushing me back down. My first reaction was to panic because a guy was forcing me on the floor, then I remembered who was pushing me down and the whole fact that I'd pretty much just passed out for no apparent reason.

"Give it a moment," Roderich said, slow and clear. "If you promise not to get up and run out, I'll see if I can find you a cup of water."

Hand still on my head, I closed my eyes and decided to take steady breathes. Focus on breathing, not too hard, but enough to get the air I needed to calm down. "No, I'll be fine. Just give me a second or two and I'll be fine."

He nodded and pulled back. "As you wish."

I felt him leave but even with my eyes closed I had the sense that he was still hovering and still watching. Probably wondering if he should ask why that happened. I had to think about why it would, too. What kind of weak girl was I to pass out from shock? How honestly lame. As I opened my eyes and recalled the reason, though, I frowned and pulled myself to a sitting position. Gilbert. That was why. Gilbert was in a gang, and there was trouble.

My eyes flew open and up, catching Roderich's worried dark blue. "Gilbert's in trouble."

To my confusion, he only shrugged. "Gilbert is always in trouble."

Oh, uhm, good point, but -

I shook my head. "No, I mean serious trouble. With a gang or something. I overheard it by the window when I went to go yell at him for playing flute and then..."

"Eliza," Roderich said, wincing as soon as the nickname left his mouth as if he were worried about insulting me with a nickname; to be honest, I thought the reaction itself was kind of cute even if I didn't particularly care for the name. "Don't do anything rash. There is no need to chase after Gilbert, especially if he is involved in a gang as you say."

Standing up, I sniffed. "You sound like my mother."

He sighed, shook his head, returned to the piano bench. "Do what you want, then, but be careful."

What a stupid thing to say. Motherly indeed. Of course I would be careful. What I couldn't understand was why Roderich wouldn't care enough to follow me after Gilbert. Sure, they were rivals of a sort, if he even knew that much, but they were classmates. Fellow musicians at the very least. Was it respect only from the pampered aristocrat? Or was Gilbert right and Roderich was a wuss?

Whatever. I couldn't let Gil face a fight on his own. He was too damn easy to beat up in the first place. There was no telling what would happen if he had to face a group of gang members. If anything, there were going to be a hell of a lot of questions when we got back to the house tonight.

~!~

It was nearing sunset when I found Gilbert. After having circled school grounds and checking places in the small town – even Francis was clueless when it came to the whereabouts of his two friends – I decided to take my stuff with me and walk home. I would either find Gil on the way or I'd find him at home. What I knew for sure was that he and his friend had disappeared from the area with mutters of gang rivalries, and I couldn't stop the nerves.

Until I found him. Then everything stopped.

I was just making it over the rather large hill on the country road – the one I had contemplated pushing Gilbert down that one awful day. A tree on the side of the road caught my eye, because there were several trees interspersed naturally along this road. While many trees caught attention because of the changing leaves of the season, this one had a distinct white splotch leaning next to it. And upon closer inspection, the white splotch was the stark white hair of a certain albino.

I rushed to the spot immediately, seeing Gil leaning his back against the tree trunk, his eyes closed. There was red all around him, covering his shirt, torn fabrics mixing with blood and dirt. His face was scratched and bleeding, but it wasn't the worst. His breathing was a little off, and when I approached his eyes flew open, his injured body tensing up.

"Who?" Red eyes blinked, narrowed, then relaxed. "Lizzy."

"Yeah," I muttered back, kneeling beside him in the grass – forget the possible stains on my dress, this was serious. "It's me."

He shifted his legs, winced, and then grumbled something to himself. "Well that's not embarrassing or anything."

Noticing that his hand was pressed to his side, I reached over to pull his hand back. Or attempt to. He was putting up some serious resistance. "What happened?"

His eyes looked to me, following every movement carefully, like he was debating something in his mind. "Doesn't matter. I'll be fine."

"Gil..."

His mouth twitched up into a smirk at the nickname and I flushed a little at the realization that I had given in to an unspoken bet. "Careful, Lizzy. Your concern is showing."

"Of course it is!" I shouted, forcing his hand back thanks to the timely shock of my raised voice. "You're hurt."

With a groan, he tried to cover up the wound again, but I grabbed his wrist with one of my hands and held on tightly. I even dug my fingernails into his skin to make a point. He hissed but otherwise stopped resisting me. So I finally got a chance to look at what he was trying to hide, seeing the welt in his side, like he had been sliced up by a knife slashing motion. Which was odd. Who fought with a knife and didn't stab? Ugh, I hadn't watched enough CSI or ER to know what I was looking at or even what to do in this kind of situation. Beyond "don't panic." I could handle doing that much. I wasn't panicking. Not yet at least.

"I'm fine," he mumbled again, as if in some kind of denial over his own injuries. "I'll be fine if you just give me a second to catch my breath."

Lifting my eyes, I raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious? Gilbert, you're bleeding pretty badly. How long has this been going on? How long have you been sitting here like this?"

He shrugged, and I noticed how his eyes drooped. "Dunno. But I'll be fine."

After a moment to let his reactions process as something worse than what I had originally thought, I chewed my bottom lip and came to a conclusion. I put his arm around my shoulder and started to get to my feet, attempting to drag him up with me. "Yes, you will, but we have to get you to a hospital."

His reaction was sudden and instant. "No!"

And at his quick pull back, we both fell. Thanks to his failing to realize we were already halfway to our feet. At least I didn't face plant on the ground. He did though, groaning as I worked to pull him back up.

"You freaking idiot," I growled. "You're in terrible shape. You can't handle this yourself."

"But I have you now," he mumbled, his eyes lazily turning to meet mine even as his feet finally worked to stand up like I wanted. "Right?"

Although my face flushed at the comment, I had to hold back another burst of frustration. He had such terrible timing. Who on earth would flirt with someone while they were busy trying to stay conscious and dealing with a case of blood loss? Honestly, who?

"Gilbert," I hissed behind my teeth, trying to move, annoyed that he wouldn't step forward, annoyed that he was leaning backwards, hitting the tree, trying to slip down the trunk again. "I can't handle this on my own."

His eyebrows twitched. "But you're not alone, either. I'm here."

I huffed. Sweet and touching as it was, this was certainly not the time. God, he really didn't have an inkling sense of timing when it came to things kinds of things. Or something else was off, but since Gilbert had always been the rowdy troublemaker who didn't make any sense, I wasn't really too surprised. The slur in his words and lethargic movements meant his blood loss could grow to be a problem if we didn't do something about it now. On the inside, I screamed and cried and ranted about how clueless I was in this kind of situation. Honestly, I hadn't encountered anything like this before; I didn't know what to do; I couldn't handle it, and no matter what Gil said, he wasn't really being much help.

His head lolled to the side; I could smell the shampoo and sweat and blood when he moved closer like that, too. And then he giggled. "Walking is bad right now, mmkay?"

My feet stopped trying to move and I worked hard to hold back the frustrated tears. "What am I supposed to do then? You're not being any help here, Gil."

He giggled again. "You called me Gil again. Like it when you do that."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, seriously, you need to go to a hospital."

"No!" His head snapped up, his red eyes searching around until they locked onto my green gaze. Red eyes made even creepier because they were bloodshot. "Can't do the hospital."

I groaned. We weren't getting anywhere with this. There had to be some way to convince him to at least go somewhere. "Then how about my house?"
He shook his head instantly again. "Nope. Not there either. No adults. Adults bad right now."

What the hell? I felt my eye twitch, and because he was so damn heavy I decided to give in and let him lean against the tree again. He sighed almost in contentment when he was back on the ground, leaning against something. His hand went to his side again, pressing down. Pressing down to staunch the blood flow maybe? Was he bleeding anywhere else? If he refused to seek help from an adult, then I'd need to do something quick now. Besides, who was I kidding? The walk home was going to be hell if he had to lean against me the whole time.

In the back of my mind, I started to consider options and ideas that I could do right now to help Gilbert. Out loud, I questioned his strangely insistent decision. "Why not, though? What are you afraid of?"

"Because," he said, then he giggled again and whispered in a sing-song voice. "I got the drugs inside me."

"You what?"

This time I focused in on what he had to say. I had to have been hearing things, right? Or was it true? Drugs were usually associated with gangs anyway. If he was telling the truth, then it would make sense for him not to go to the hospital for help. They'd probably start asking all kinds of questions. And my parents wouldn't appreciate it if they somehow could figure it out by the way he was acting. I just thought it was because of his injuries, but maybe it was the drugs making him act weird and...

Well like he was high on something.

"The drugs," Gil whispered again, grinning at me like a fool, which wasn't too different from normal but there was a slight tug on my heart when he did it now. "That's what they do to catch you, you know. Get you addicted. Hah! I won't be addicted to this shit! Even if it feels awesome. Force me to sell the stuff, then beat me up when I ask for help and give me drugs to make the pain go away. Perfect business. Too bad I'm too awesome to get addicted to shit like this. I'm not gonna break that easily."

My breath refused to fill up normally. I felt the urge to hiccup. Felt the tears welling up in my own eyes. No wonder his attitude was all kinds of wrong. He had to deal with this in the background and didn't even tell anyone. Why was he involved in something like this? Why was he trying to deal with it on his own? I was thankful to hear even in his drugged state of mind that he refused to bow to it, but what would that mean for his future? How deep did this go?

And here I thought small towns didn't have to deal with this kind of saddening crime. "Gil..."

His drooping eyes turned to me, then he frowned. "Hey, hey, don't look at me like that. No pity. You wanna help? Fine, but no pity, all right?"

I nodded, fanning my face to hold the tears back, swallowing the sadness to tackle it later. "All right, but that means you're coming home with me."

His mouth opened to protest, but I put a hand over it this time. It was an intimate touch. I didn't realize it until after I moved, but covering his mouth with my hand was a bit much, feeling his breath on my skin like that. My face heated. His cheeks went a little pink, an obvious color change for an albino. And then he licked my hand, and I kept it there just out of stubbornness and a refusal to squeak and pull back like some kind of little girl.

"Gil," I scowled, getting his red eyes to stare back at me, dancing in the slowly dimming sunlight. "My parents went out for the night. They won't be back until way late. We can fix you up without having to worry about them, and maybe Ludwig will help, too."

Only when his tongue stopped licking my palm did I pull my hand back. His lips pressed together, like he was thinking, and then he smiled. "Okay. It's not that bad, you know. It's just...the drugs making it seem bad because I'm loopy as all hell."

"I hope so," I muttered, then frowned at a sudden random thought. "What happened to your flute?"

His eyes widened, then narrowed, then turned to the side and started to well up with tears of all things. "I don't want to talk about it."

I frowned. Musical instruments were precious things to musicians, but I still hadn't expected to see Gilbert tear up over one. "Gil, what-?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it!" He snapped, but his eyes glanced to the other side and my gaze followed to see what I had originally assumed to be a snapped stick on the ground next to him. I gasped when I saw it for what it was – the remnants of Gilbert's wooden flute. "I guess I won't be able to beat Roderich at the talent show and impress you after all."

I blinked, tilted my head to the side. "Impress me?"

His face flushed almost as red as his eyes. Then he cleared his throat and skipped right on past the subject. "Anyway, we were going home, right?"
"Right," I said, letting him get away with the avoidance but still pondering on the strange statement as I helped him to his feet.

Why would Gilbert work so hard just to impress me? Was he actually serious about asking me out? Even with all his sexual innuendos and inappropriate jokes, he still wanted to impress me with music because, why? Because he'd seen me throw attention to Roderich? Was it jealousy for attention or...something else?

One thing was for certain, Gilbert Beilschmidt was sure a lot more mysterious than I originally assumed.

~!~

A/N: Finally the PruHun scene I wanted to write this whole time. Well, no, not this whole time, but a major scene that hit my mind a few nights ago and I finally got to write it out and yay. Now on to Gilbert. My stomach keeps doing flips. I am having way too much fun with this.

~Reda