Part I

The Situation:

He has scars, and a lot of them. They make patterns on his back and arms. Some could stand alone as an individual design. But Elizaveta enjoys each and everyone and when he's sleeping she counts them until her eyelids get weary. So far, she's counted up to twenty something on his back and chest alone; she's never actually counted them all.

He has one tattoo on his right shoulder. It's not big nor is it small either. The artwork is simple, a black eagle with a German crown. He told her it represents his heritage and that was the first time she realized there was more to him than appearance only. Elizaveta's family disapproves; her friends do as well but won't say it to her face. 'He's bad for you', is all she hears. But she would rather be in his small one bedroom apartment, with it's tiny windows and that endearing hum of the air conditioner unit than in any stately mansion with stuck up rich people who have too much time on their hands.

"It's early," she says with a smile at his back. Her eyes do it on their own, counting scars as he's bent over. Elizaveta props her head with one hand. "Where are you going?"

Gilbert sits at the foot of the bed, when he finishes whatever he's doing, putting on shoes Elizaveta assumes, she shifts her feet underneath rough cotton sheets so that he doesn't accidently lean on them. He doesn't answer right away but stands and stretches his arms high above his head. When he's done he turns to face her. A wild grin to match his wildly exotic red eyes makes her shiver.

"I thought we'll have something other than coffee for breakfast." Gilbert answers her before crawling over the sheets until they were face to face. He hovers over her and she can't help but touch those toned and scared arms.

"You're leaving me for food?" Elizaveta teases as fingers feather over his shoulders. "I'm so jealous."

"I skipped dinner for you." He answers and she chuckles. He's making that confused face, where is white brows knit together and his lips part just a bit, because he isn't sure if she is serious or not.

"I know," she answer back a bit distracted as her fingers intertwine themselves in the thin white hairs of his neck. Elizaveta pulls herself up enough to kiss his confused lips that completes with the smile on her face.

Gilbert finally gets it after a few seconds and kisses her back but she is already pulling away. He frowns and she chuckles again.

"Bring something with eggs." She informs him and he snorts.

"Eggs? That's it?" Gilbert shakes his head and pulls himself up off the bed. "You need something more than eggs for breakfast, Liz."

"Something with eggs," she corrects him as he slides on a long-sleeved shirt and a jacket.

He walks to the side of the bed, grabbing his keys and kissing her at the same time. "Something with eggs got it."

Elizaveta sits up fully and watches him as he leaves. She keeps the sheet wrapped around her otherwise naked form and swings her legs over the edge of the bed. With a bit of skilled maneuvering, the Hungarian woman manages to secure it around her person. Even though she is there alone, Elizaveta is very conscious of the close proximity of the neighboring apartments and the thinness of Gilbert's curtains. Satisfied that the sheet won't fall, she makes her way to the bathroom in what she assumes is either late morning or early afternoon. With hum, Elizaveta starts her usually routine of relieving herself on the toilet when she hears a thump.

The walls in the apartment are thin and she's use to mistaking noises from next door to being inside the house. So, Elizaveta doesn't technically panic but when she hears another thump, her heartbeat jumps just a bit. She leans toward the door, trying to peer in the hallway from her vantage point on the toilet. Her hand reactively grabs at the sheet but she doesn't move. The noise stops and she sighs and scratches her hair.

It wasn't really warm in the apartment though the heating was screaming through the entire place. Elizaveta turns on the water to take a shower. The sound of it overshadows the screaming of the heater. She sits on the rim of the tub, letting the water run on her hands until it reaches the temperature she likes.

That is when she heard it, a loud boom that makes Elizaveta jump up.

"Liz," Gilbert yells and she jumps up at his urgency. "Liz, where are you?"

"Get on the ground" someone yells and she hears more noises but her feet won't move to go see.

There is rumbling, "Get off of me," Gilbert yells and she can tell he is struggling by how harsh his words come out. "Liz?" he screams this time and she rushes toward the living room.

It's completely destroyed. The lamps are on the floor, magazines scattered everywhere. In the center of it all, held down on the table by two men in black was Gilbert, hands behind his back and on his knees.

"Gil," her voice is shaky, "Gil, I'm—" before she can finish a man grabs her roughly by the arm and forces her against the wall. Her face hits it forcibly and he forces her hands behind her back.

"Let her go," Gilbert demands and though she can't see him the noises behind her let her know he's fighting back.

"Keep your head down, prick," One of them say and she cringes at the sound his head hitting the table, "Search the apartment for anyone else."

"What's going on?" Elizaveta asks in panic.

The man who is holding her let's up only and little, "You have the right to remain silent,"

"—I'm getting arrested? —"

"…Anything you say can and will be used against in a court of law…"

"—Gilbert, why are we getting arrested? Gilbert! –"

More rumbling, "I said let her—ah—fuck you," Gilbert says.

"I said, keep your fucking head down!" an officer screams.

"…You have a right to an atto—"

"I know my rights!" Elizaveta yells to which the man momentarily stops speaking. Everything is happening so fast, she hardly has time to process it. One minute she is about to shower, the next she's being read her Miranda Rights. Gilbert's struggling behind her didn't make it any better and with every subtle movement on her part, the office .her tightened his hold.

"All's clear, Sir," another man says as he emerges from Gilbert's bedroom.

"Good," the officer whom Elizaveta reasons is in charge states, "Bag'em and let's go, but not the girl." He walks over to her and she has to hold herself back from snarling at him. "You might want to put on some clothes missy, because you're coming with us."

She's forcefully turned and as such can see when they lift Gilbert up from the table.

"Call Ludwig," he instructs as they shove him forward. His nose is bleeding, and one side of his face his noticeably redder than the other. "Call him and don't tell them nothing, you hear me?"

Elizaveta wants to follow. She wants to snatch him right back as they force him to keeping moving. But the other cop is still holding her arms so she just watches as he struggles and resist. She watches until his white hair disappears out of the front the door.

A/N: I couldn't help it guys, this story just came to me. I may continue it, I may not (most likely will) but that's up to my psyche really! Anyways, let me know what you think. As always, your input is much appreciated.

-CeCe