Note- This is not an Outsiders AU. The Greasers were a real subculture made up of the working class in the 1950's, and conflict between them and the wealthier adolescents occurred during this time. Except for the characters, this story is purely original.

Elizaveta did not stop running until her legs felt rubbery and her chest burned, and then some after that. She didn't stop running until she was in her house and her door was locked. And then she fell against the wood, her breath burning in her lungs and her knees threatening to give in, and broke.

She tried to keep her composure. She wouldn't cry. She didn't cry when her mother left her, and she wouldn't fall to pieces now. She repeated that over and over, but she couldn't stop a trembling sob. After that, it was like a dam broke.

Elizaveta fell to her knees, pressing her hand hard against her mouth to keep from making any noise. She had been so scared. She had never been more terrified in her entire life. She was truly afraid she as going to die. She wasn't sure if she as crying from the fear or from the relief, but once it started, it wouldn't stop.

It was only then that she noticed Lilli standing at the stairwell. Elizaveta immediately wiped at her eyes and tried to regain some semblance of composure. Greasers didn't cry in front of rich kids. The only things Greasers ever were before them were cool, calm, and tough.

Lilli walked toward her, though, her face sad. Elizaveta looked away; she didn't want any pity, especially not a rich kid's. But then, Lilli knelt down and embraced her gently. "You're safe. Thank God."

Elizaveta didn't know how to respond. Lilli was a rich kid, and they were in different worlds. She wasn't supposed to be so kind, so gentle, so understanding. Elizaveta wasn't supposed to like her as much as she did. Greasers and rich kids couldn't be friends.

But Elizaveta was falling to pieces, and this was just what she needed. So she leaned into Lilli's embrace and closed her eyes. "I was so scared. I thought I was going to die."

Elizaveta was never an open person. That she even said anything was surprising. She was half out of her mind with fear, though, and she managed to not say anything more.

Lilli held her until she stopped shaking and tears stopped threatening to fall. She stepped back, her eyes downcast, her voice quiet. "Thank you for protecting me again. You've done so much for me."

Elizaveta looked at her; her smallness, her fragility, and felt a rush of protectiveness. "If you need help, just come to me."

Lilli looked up to her, a tiny smile upon her lips. "We should stick together, you and I. What with everything that's happened." The smile fell. "Lukas is the murderer, correct?"

Elizaveta at first was going to tell the truth, but then she looked at how delicate Lilli was. Even if she could knock out Gilbert with a punch, she was small, and she might not be able to defend herself if the time came. It most definitely would if Elizaveta told. "I don't know."

Lilli furrowed her brow. "Everything points to that, though. The gun, that he fired it so readily, that he wanted to talk to the only person who witnessed it. He was ready to kill."

Elizaveta suddenly felt cold, Lukas' words echoing through her head. "We aren't different at all." She was ready to kill, too. She swallowed hard before shaking her head again. "Maybe Heracles was involved in gangs before and got on Lukas' bad side. They could have just been discussing something he didn't want anyone else to hear."

Lilli shook her head. "I've spoken to Heracles. He's in one of my classes.

He couldn't care less about it, and he's asleep half the time. I can't see him being a part of any of this."

Elizaveta searched quickly for something else. She hated lying like this, but she couldn't risk Lilli's life, even if each of her words felt like acid in her mouth. "Why would Lukas be so far down here? He's a rich kid. It doesn't make sense."

Lilli put her hand to her mouth, thinking. After a moment, she sighed. "You have a point. This is going to be hard. We can't turn him in to the police because we aren't certain, but he's an obvious threat otherwise."

Elizaveta's breath caught. Lilli was right- she could just turn him in. This whole thing would be over with.

But when she thought of the consequences, her blood turned cold. She was possessed with the irrational fear that Lukas would find out. He knew so much about her; it was like he had spies everywhere. If he found out, Lilli died.

Everything was going in circles. Lilli tapped her finger against her lips, thinking. After a moment, she looked up to Elizaveta again. "This is rather difficult. You have a telephone, correct?" At Elizaveta's nod, she continued. "Let me give you my number. Call me if anything happens." She glanced around the room. "Do you have any paper?"

Elizaveta scavenged up a notepad and a pen. Lilli tore out the sheet and handed it to her. When she stepped back, she was suddenly shy again. She walked toward the door and stopped right before it. "Good luck. I should leave you alone now. I'm sorry you had to protect me again."

Before Elizaveta could say anything else, Lilli left.

As soon as she was gone, Elizaveta cringed. Everything was going wrong. She didn't want to lie. She absolutely hated lying, but she didn't see another choice. She let out a breath of exasperation, pulling her hair out of its ponytail. She would just go to sleep. Everything would be better in the morning.

There was a knock at her door. She shoved her hair tie in her jacket pocket and stormed over to the door. She didn't want to deal with any more drama today.

When she opened the door, however, Antonio stood awkwardly there. He had a black eye and his knuckles were bruised. "Hey. My mom kicked me out after she saw this." He gestured to his eye.

Elizaveta immediately ushered him in, asking him if he needed anything and getting him a pillow and blanket for his customary makeshift bed and ice for his eye. Antonio's mother was short-tempered and this was a common occurrence. Antonio was the nicest kid; every time it did, it made her mad. At least it wasn't as often as it was the year before- and at least it was her house instead of a jail cell.

Once he was settled, she went to her room. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep now, so she went over to her window and popped off the screen. She sat on the tiles of her roof and took a deep breath, looking up at the stars. She lost herself in their cold beauty, and she thought. She thought of her mother, a hazy recollection of her stomping out of the house a last time with a suitcase. Then, her father- working hard, never home- and lastly- of a small girl with warm arms and a tiny voice.

"You're safe. Thank God."

.

Elizaveta tugged a weed out of the dirt, tossing it aside with all the others. She grabbed at another, careful to avoid the tiny sprouts that were her flowers. Her garden was full of geraniums, lilies, resuscitating hydrangea bushes, and other such plants starting to come alive again after winter. The frosts had finally stopped, and the ground was ready to be planted.

She hummed under her breath as she got at another weed. This was her favorite time of year. She loved tending to the plants, watching them grow under her care, admiring the beauty of life. She had gardened for as long as she could remember.

She pulled up the last weed and stood, retrieving the fertilizer and watering can. She was nearly finished with the watering when a black car rounded the corner and drove into their neighborhood. Elizaveta didn't recognize it, and it was much too nice to be a Greaser's car. She set her watering can down slowly and watched it go past.

It stopped near the end of the street and Elizaveta followed it, keeping a safe distance away.

Two men in suits stepped out. One stood at the door of his car, looking around at the neighborhood, soon joined by the second. He took a step forward, but he didn't get far before Francis came out of his house and approached him.

"Well, if it isn't Arthur Kirkland! We meet again!" His voice was full of mocking excitement.

The man he spoke to raised his head and looked down at him. "Francis Bonnefoy. Still here in the slums, I see." His voice was haughty and slightly accented, sounding British.

"What brings you to the slums, 'sweetheart'?" Francis raised one eyebrow, mimicking his accent on the last word.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Nothing that concerns you, 'mon petit chou'."

The other man with him seemed to realize something. His eyes widened behind his glasses. "Oh, so this is that Francis Bonnefoy?"

Arthur scoffed. "Alfred, what other person in this down has such a ridiculous name?"

Francis grinned. "You've told people about me?"

Arthur glared at him. "Only the most terrible of things. Now, would you kindly move? I have a killing to investigate."

Francis stepped aside, and they proceeded past him to Heracles' house. As soon as they were out of earshot, Elizaveta turned to him. "Sweetheart?"

"I knew him a while back. Lasted a week. Ended badly." Francis watched after them. "We've been something of rivals ever since." He shook his head. "A killing, though? That is rather intense. Antonio told me about the dead body."

Elizaveta gave Francis a curious look. They often didn't get along, and when they did, it didn't last long. She wondered just what she didn't know about him. She sighed. "It was quite something, the body. Do you suppose they suspect Heracles?"

He shrugged. "It's valid. He's the closest to where the killing occurred, and they probably think it was over some gang fight or something. But, then again, you could be a suspect, too." He took a step back, waving. "I have things to attend to. It's been real."

Elizaveta looked back to Heracles' house, the air suddenly feeling much colder. She was innocent. Despite what Lukas might think, she could never kill someone. How could they suspect her?

She was the only one who knew who the murderer was, though. She could tell them it was Lukas. There was a chance that he wouldn't find out it was her. She ran back to her house, picking up the telephone and digging around for the paper Lilli gave her the day before. "Operator, put me through to Crestview 4-6066." She tapped her fingers impatiently as the waited, glancing back at the door. She expected the detectives to come through the door any second. Couldn't they smell the evidence on her? Couldn't they tell she knew?

"Hello?"

The voice was male, the response gruff. Elizaveta recognized it as Vash. "Hello. Is Lilli there?" She spoke with a higher, sweeter voice. "Tell her it's Elizabeth."

There was a pause. Elizaveta's frustration grew, and she had to keep from gritting her teeth. This was taking too long.

Finally, he responded. "One moment."

There was a shuffling sound, and then Lilli's voice. "Hey, Betty! How's it going?"

Elizaveta dropped the pretense. "It's me, Elizaveta. The police are here, and I think they're detectives."

Lilli's voice was still light and airy. "Oh, what does he want now?"

Elizaveta realized Vash or Lilli's other family might be listening in; that's why she was acting the way she was. It would be disastrous if they found she associated with a Greaser, after all. Elizaveta felt her stomach sink at that thought, but she ignored it. "They're going to be questioning us about the murder. They-"

She was cut off by a knock at the door, and everything seemed to get colder. "They're here. Meet me later. Come to the diner, Rocking Johnny's- I have a shift there later, starting at one." She hung up and swiftly crossed to the door, opening it.

Arthur doffed his hat at her. "Good afternoon. I believe we are already acquaintances?"

Elizaveta nodded. "What are you here for?"

"Mister Karpusi said that you had seen the body. Is this true?"

Elizaveta nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, it is." She took a deep breath. She thought of Lukas; his icy eyes, his too-light hair and too-fair skin, the coldness of his gun against her head. And then, Lilli; the warmth of her laugh, the comfort of her arms. She took a chance. "And I believe that I may have seen the murderer as well."

"I'll need to ask you a few questions, then..." In the middle of his sentence, Elizaveta was distracted by the clattering of a stone hitting the ground. When she looked to the sound, she froze. The air left her lungs, the ground heaved beneath her feet, her vision went dark.

Because there, half in shadow, was Lukas Bondevik.

Every nerve in her body burned with the need to run. Her breath was thick and heavy in her throat, her heart pounded, the world started spinning. It didn't make sense, Lukas wasn't supposed to be this far out, he was a rich kid, Elizaveta was supposed to be safe here, Lukas needed to get away, to disappear...

As she watched, he raised his hand to his head, slowly pointing two fingers against it. The shape of a gun. And then he mouthed a single word, clear as day, and it seemed to echo through Elizaveta's mind and reverberate through the air.

"Remember."

And then he ran and Elizaveta was chasing him and the detectives were with her and he ran like he was on fire, ran harder and faster than anyone Elizaveta had ever seen, like he wasn't human and he just kept running, past Heracles' house, past the trees, up the train tracks.

He kept running, and Elizaveta kept following.

For a while on the tracks he was ahead of them, but Elizaveta knew it wouldn't be for long because they had to catch him now. He was guilty and she was the witness, he would be arrested for murder, they would realize this wasn't just a killing. This whole thing would be over and life would go back to normal.

The three of them followed him all the way back to a much nicer neighborhood. Elizaveta and Alfred were ready to charge him, but Arthur held them back. "In the forest, quick."

They followed his instruction, Elizaveta still keeping her eye on Lukas. He slowed down to a walk, taking a few steps before he looked back.

Arthur leaned forward. "Do you recognize him?"

Elizaveta recognized him, all right. But suddenly, it was like his eyes bored into her, even from that distance, and her mouth went dry. "He's too far away."

Lukas paused, seeming to search the around him. He turned and entered his neighborhood with an overconfident stride. It seemed to swallow him whole. Disappointment seemed to swallow Elizaveta at the same time.

You coward. You goddamn coward.

He was so close, and she just let him slip through their fingers. She could even turn to Arthur and tell him, right then and there. But she couldn't. All she could think of was the gun against her head, of Lilli...

She couldn't even look at Arthur as he stood. He, however, was undeterred. "We're another step ahead."

That was strange. They had just let Lukas go. If anything, they were in the same place. "What do you mean?"

Arthur took out a notepad, jotting something down. "Well, we have an idea of his appearance, and we know where he lives now, presumably. He did look wealthier."

"Isn't there a gang in this neighborhood, too?" Alfred asked.

Elizaveta nodded. "Yes, the Vikings."

Arthur raised his eyebrows and fixed his piercing gaze on her. "Tell me the members of this gang."

Elizaveta listed them off easily; after all, she saw them every day in her math class. It was such an absurd thought- she was just a few seats away from a murderer every day.

"And has... Your gang fought with them?"

Elizaveta furrowed her brow. "Yes, but the kid who died we don't know. We don't know why he was so far out near our turf or nothing. He isn't one of us."

"Or anything," Arthur corrected, not looking up from this notepad.

Elizaveta felt a small flare of irritation at that. Her English was decent and, for a Greaser, it was better than most. Still, she repeated it under her breath. Or anything.

Arthur flipped his notepad closed. "Alright, Miss..."

"Hérderváry. Elizaveta."

Arthur nodded. "Miss Hérdeváry. Could you show us back to your neighborhood?"

Elizaveta turned and waved them toward her, leading the way back to the grass and along the tracks. Along the way, they continued to question her. It was the normal- what had she seen, who had she been with, things like that. She hinted at Lukas as often as she could. Every time she didn't outright tell them who the murderer was, she hated herself a little more.

When they left, Elizaveta watched them go, fiercely hoping that they would find Lukas and apprehend him. She just wanted it to be over.

She tried to ignore that it was her fault it wasn't.

She returned to her house, picking up the abandoned watering can and finishing the watering. When that was done, she sat at the edge of the flower beds, her fingers brushing against the soil and the waxy sprouts. "Come on," she whispered. "Grow."

The plants didn't change, but then again, Elizaveta wasn't expecting anything. She sighed, pulled her hair out of her hair tie, and started working through the snarls with her fingers. It was getting close to one, and she would have to look presentable soon.

She went back in her house, finding a hairbrush and her uniform. She tried her hardest to look professional at work and not at all like a Greaser. She was almost ashamed of her background.

She didn't always think being a Greaser was bad. It was just a fact of life, like her green eyes. Sure, she was poorer, but that never bothered her. Not until Gilbert was jumped the first time.

Even now, five years later, she still flinched at the memory. Gilbert was such a softhearted, happy kid all through her childhood. It all changed after that. She couldn't even help him. She was too late.

Ever since then, he never left without his switchblade. He, Antonio, and Francis made a reputation for themselves after that. It was half rumors, but they spread, and the Bad Touch Trio came into existence. Antonio was the one who aided the most with that, and with him, they weren't rumors- but that was over, and Elizaveta never, ever wanted to remember that again.

Even to this day, Gilbert paled when a car slowed down near them, or when someone shouted at them from across the street. No one ever picked a fight with him after that, but he was still on edge.

All because Elizaveta wasn't quick enough to save him.

She drove the thoughts out of her mind, wetting down her hair and letting it dry naturally again. It never looked right after she brushed out the curls. She straightened her uniform a bit more before leaving to Rocking Johnny's.

She couldn't do anything about what had happened now. It was too late.

There was a bit of a walk to get to the diner. It was closer to the richer side of town, along with a few apartment blocks and the movie theatre.

When she reached the diner, Lilli wasn't there. Elizaveta refused to acknowledge she was at all disappointed and simply focused on getting to work.

It was ridiculous that she cared at all for a rich girl. She always hated the rich kids. They jumped Gilbert and got away with it; they got away with almost anything. They deserved everything they could get. She should turn Lukas in and let Lilli face the consequences- it's what any other Greaser would do.

But she couldn't. Lilli was innocent. She was the first rich kid Elizaveta ever knew personally, and she wasn't that bad. She was almost a friend. She gave Elizaveta her telephone number, even though she was a Greaser.

"Waiter!"

Elizaveta took a deep breath, trying to clear her head. She turned towards the voice and saw it was Lilli who called her. A smile broke out on Elizaveta's face before she could stop it. "You made it."

"Of course." Lilli pushed her menu forward and folded her hands in her lap. "I would like a strawberry shake and the news of what happened with the detectives, please."

Elizaveta scribbled down her order. "They just came and questioned Heracles. Then they came to me, and I was about to tell them about Lukas when I noticed..." She almost told her what happened. The truth. But Lukas' threat echoed through her mind, and she couldn't. "...Someone was watching me from behind Feliciano and Lovino's house." She tried her hardest not to remember. She kept a firm hold on her composure as she took another deep breath. "We chased him, but he was too fast. Arthur- the detective who seemed in charge- he said they gained something by finding out where he lived. And he went in your neighborhood."

Lilli looked at her, wide-eyed. "You must admit that it has to be Lukas now. That's the only thing that makes sense."

Elizaveta put her hands up defensively. "You're making assumptions." Before Lilli could say anything more, Elizaveta took a step back. "I'm working. I'll see if I can bring you your shake, but if not, good luck."

After Elizaveta served a few more tables and calmed herself down a bit, Lilli's shake was ready. No one else had taken it yet, so she did. When she got to Lilli's table, Elizaveta noticed she was writing something in a notebook. She set the tray down, placing the milkshake on the table. "What're you writing?"

Lilli finished her line before she said anything. Elizaveta noticed she wrote in neat cursive. "Nothing, really. Just a poem."

"You write a lot?"

She nodded. "Read, too. Things like The Catcher in the Rye, The Lord of the Flies..."

Now, reading was something Elizaveta was familiar with. She loved books and films and anything with a story. She leaned forward, grinning. "Have you ever read The Lord of the Rings? It's real good."

Lilli's eyes seemed to light up. "Oh, yes, that's one of my favorites! It's such an engaging, epic story. Have you ever read Alice in Wonderland?"

"No, I don't think so." An idea dawned on her- another way for her to see Lilli. Her smile widened. "Do you think you could lend it to me sometime?"

Lilli nodded enthusiastically. "It will be wonderful to have someone else who enjoys reading! I just annoy my brother when I talk about the things I read. I can't help it, I get so involved." Then, like a switch, Lilli withdrew. "Oh, I'm annoying you, too. I'm sorry."

Elizaveta was almost sad at the change. "No, you're fine. I love to read as well." She gathered up the tray and took a step back. "I'll be seeing you later, then."

"Wait!" Elizaveta paused. Lilli faltered, then continued. "Your hair. It looks pretty when it's down."

Elizaveta smiled again and waved. Lilli was such a kind person. And she liked reading, too.

And she was rich.

Reality set in. Lilli was a rich girl. They could never truly be friends. No matter how nice she was, no matter how much Elizaveta wanted it to be different, it wasn't.

For the rest of the night, she avoided Lilli's table and what she ordered until she left. All the while, Elizaveta repeated a phrase under her breath, like a mantra.

Some gaps just weren't meant to be bridged.

Despite her efforts, a thought sprang to mind that she desperately tried to suppress. Maybe Roderich was different; he had been with the Greasers since they were young and status and labels didn't matter. But he was a rich kid, and he had friends that were Greasers.

Maybe, just maybe, there was hope.

.

By the end of her shift, Elizaveta had reasoned with herself that it was alright to simply talk to Lilli; after all, there was no harm in that. She was in higher spirits toward the end of her shift, but quickly after, she was unsettled. She suddenly got the feeling something had was going to happen, and as time went on, it only increased. By the time she had finished, she needed to get out. Her instincts screamed at her to get going. The feeling that something was terribly wrong increased until it blotted out everything else, and she took off in a sprint toward her neighborhood. She didn't know what she was running to, only that it was urgent and desperate. She urged herself faster, ignoring the burning in her legs. She turned around the corner, almost to the neighborhood, and she skidded to a stop. Shock rushed through her veins, hot and burning. She could feel her heart pounding in her fingertips.

There, up against the fence were Lukas and Gilbert.

Gilbert's arm hung at his side at an awkward angle, his switchblade useless between his fingers.

Lukas' hands were around Gilbert's neck, and his eyes were cold and hard.

Elizaveta noticed something much, much worse.

Gilbert wasn't moving.

Mon petit chou- literally 'my little cabbage'. Term of endearment in French.

If you would like to read Lukas' side of things, there is a story titled Fly Away that is from his perspective.