Did I mention I love you?
Keeping her head lowered, Ingrid tried desperately to ignore the streams of scarlet, crimson and pink that seemed to smother the hallways of X High School. Everywhere one looked, there were dainty cut-out hearts strung together in chains, or papier-mâché cherubs wielding bows and arrows – each one unique – suspended from the ceiling. The Festivals Committee had worked overtime to ensure that not one corner of X High School was left untouched by the spirit of Valentine's Day. Ingrid hated it.
It wasn't that she was bitter, resentful of the fact that others had a special someone to share the day with, it was just that she disliked the commercialisation of what she thought should be two people's private feelings for each other. St Valentine had performed secret wedding ceremonies for couples who loved each other – he hadn't sent out a myriad of cards and candies just to satisfy the greed of corporate companies.
Pushing her way into Safety Patrol HQ, Ingrid sent up a silent prayer that Vallejo had been able to resist the Festival Committee's attempts to drown the hallways in a sea of ribbon and bows. Unfortunately, he had not. Vallejo stood in the centre of his Head Quarters staring bemusedly at the blush pink ribbons strewn all around the room. He looked as though he couldn't quite remember how the decorations had got there.
Sighing, Ingrid walked swiftly over to her desk and busied herself with the mountain of paper-work awaiting her. She had barely started when a shriek, followed by a crash and an explosion of giggles caused her attention to be diverted to the far corner of the room. There lay Joseph Anza and Karen Tehama in a tangled heap on the floor. From what Ingrid could gather, one of the junior officers – if her blush was anything to go by – had opened the door to the supply closet only to find the two senior officers making out. The sudden interruption had cause both Karen and Anza to loose their balance and tumble to the floor at the Senior Commissioner's feet.
Though the poor girl who had found them was still blushing, and Vallejo's eyebrows had hit his hairline, both Joseph and Tehama seemed to find it all ridiculously funny. They made a quick exit, arms still wrapped around each other's waists, smothering their laughter as they left the room. Ingrid had time to see the pair exchange a quick, clinging kiss, before they disappeared out of sight around the door.
Scowling, Ingrid returned her attention to her paperwork; mentally berating people stupid enough to hide themselves in a public, and commonly used, supply closet. The least they could do was lock themselves in a room where no one else would have to see how deliriously happy they were.
Kicking aside that little voice that told her she being bitter and petty, Ingrid began searching her desk for the file she needed for her paper work. Though she would never admit it, Ingrid was jealous. Not of Karen or Anza in particular – they were her friends, and she was glad they were happy together – but of what they had. Ingrid secretly longed for the type of relationship Karen seemed to have with Joseph – they type where you're not afraid to be yourself, the type where you trust the other person enough to see the real you.
Without conscious thought, Ingrid's gaze slid over to the currently unoccupied desk of her partner Cornelius Fillmore. As always, there was a pile of unattended-to paperwork scattered over the desk, the wooden surface barely visible through the sheaves of documents. A small smile tugged at her lips as she watched Miles, Cornelius's pet fish, swim lazily in his bowl. Her mind flashed back to images of Fillmore standing at his desk, talking to her, or bent over his paperwork, one eyebrow raised in silent contemplation of the file before him. Her smile grew bigger as she thought of the dedication her partner gave to every aspect of his life – it was one of the things she loved about him.
With a jolt, Ingrid physically shot back from her desk, blinking rapidly as though the motion would dispel her wayward thoughts about her partner. She glanced back over at Fillmore's desk, eyes wide as she contemplated her dilemma. Had she really admitted she loved Fillmore? Lowering her gaze once again to the paperwork in front of her, Ingrid took a deep, calming breath and set to work analysing her thoughts about her partner.
Fact: Fillmore was attractive. Well of course he was. She would have been blind not to notice how attractive he was – confident, charming, with a smile that made the female populace of X go weak at the knees. Fillmore was admired, in some cases adored, by most of the girls at X School – even Tehama had harboured a secret crush on him when he first joined the force. That crush had long since faded, replaced by a much deeper affection for Anza. The same could not be said for Ingrid. She had admitted long ago that she admired Cornelius Fillmore, but it had taken much longer for her to admit that she harboured actual affection for her partner. Now sitting at her desk Ingrid finally admitted that her feelings exceeded those of mere friendship and a casual crush, somewhere along the way, she had fallen in love with Cornelius Fillmore – the one person least likely to return her regard.
Groaning, Ingrid let her head bang down on the desk. She trusted Fillmore more than anyone else, but she knew this was one thing she could not tell him – best friend or no, she doubted he would appreciate her dropping this in his lap. No, telling him would just make things awkward, she would just continue to be his friend as she always had done. After all, she treasured this friendship, as much as she treasured the close relationship she had with her sister – she wasn't about to jeopardise it.
Having settled the matter, at least in her own mind, Ingrid set about reorganising her desk in an attempt to find the file she had previously been searching for. Coming up empty handed, Ingrid pulled open her top draw only to stop her search short upon the sight of a single yellow rose, its delicate petals resting on an elegant note. Baffled, Ingrid gently lifted the rose and note out of the draw and laid them on her desk. The note was simple – a small white card, with letters printed in black. Lifting the note in front of her gaze Ingrid read what was written there.
"My first is in lesson, but never in teach
My second's in talking, but never in speech
My third and my fifth are both found in rhyme
My fourth is in basil and my sixth is in thyme
Together we're a place where you're seen and not heard
Where silence is golden and you can't say a word.
Come find me."
Ingrid's gaze shuttered back and forth over the text, her mind rapidly analysing and discarding possible letter combinations. As her eyes took in the message a third time, Ingrid's eyes widen as she saw the hidden message in the note. Smiling, she picked up the rose and walked out the door.
Stepping into the quiet library, Ingrid looked left and right, searching for whoever had sent her the note. Seeing nothing but empty tables and shelves of books, Ingrid moved further into the library. She wondered up and down the stacks until she reached the farthest corner of the library, it was a place she herself was very familiar with – though it was rarely frequented by the students of X High School. These were the shelves that contained the poetical classics – from Chaucer to Shakespeare to Coleridge to Poe. There, at the base of Poe's collected works, lay a pale pink rose, and a small white card. Smiling a rare, soft smile, Ingrid reached forward and plucked both rose and note from the shelf. Leaning gently against the stack Ingrid prepared to unpack the next riddle.
"I like pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals."
Ingrid blinked once, and then flipped the card over. Nothing. She read the front again. This wasn't quite what she had been expecting. As she examined the words, something niggled at the back of her mind, a feeling that she knew these words and had read them somewhere before. Closing her mind, Ingrid scoured her memory for a time when she had read those words.
Of course – the bust of Winston Churchill that stood in the quadrangle. The bust was an affectation of the principle's – something about enforcing the idea of strong leaders upon the youth of the school. Dozens of such statues were scattered around the school – detailing everyone from Ghandi to Julius Caesar. Lifting the two roses to her nose, Ingrid inhaled gently, savouring their scent for a moment before heading to the quad.
As she entered the quadrangle, Ingrid was glad that no one else was present. She moved swiftly over to the bust, nodding in satisfaction when she saw that her guess had been correct. She reached out and lifted the rose down from the pedestal. The rose was again yellow, though a deeper hue than the first and tipped with red. Alongside it lay the note.
"Four jolly men sat down to play, and played all night till the break of day.
They played for cash and not for fun, with a separate score for every one.
When it came time to square accounts, they all had made quite fair amounts.
Now, not one has lost and all have gained, tell me, now, can you this explain?"
Ingrid frowned at the note, puzzling over the sentences contained there. 'Four jolly men sat down to play … with a separate score for every one … a separate score.' Ingrid was listing every sport or game she knew in her head when the opening notes of the school's own radio show drifted across the airwaves. Enlightenment struck Ingrid like fireworks. A score of music – the men were playing instruments. Taking care to shelter the petals of her flowers, Ingrid took off at a run for the music block.
Skidding to a halt outside the orchestra practice room, Ingrid lent her ear against the door. Satisfied that there was no one inside, Ingrid pulled open the door and slipped into the room. The room was dim, but Ingrid could clearly see the deep burgundy rose propped up against the conductors stand – the white of the note stark against the dark wood. Walking over, Ingrid curled her fingers around the stem – noting for the first time, that all the roses she held lacked thorns. Lifting the note along with the rose, Ingrid read the words printed there.
"Looking back, I have this to regret, that too often when I loved, I did not say so.
Your life and my life flow into each other as wave flows into wave,
and unless there is peace and joy and freedom for you,
there can be no real peace or joy or freedom for me. To see reality--not as we expect it to be but as it is--is to see that unless we live for each other and in and through each other, we do not really live very satisfactorily; that there can really be life only where there really is, in just this sense, love.
Meet me on the roof."
Taking a deep breath, Ingrid stepped out onto the school roof. The brisk wind tugged gently at her hair and clothes, and Ingrid instinctively sheltered the roses she carried with her body. Here on the roof, light patches of snow still clung to the shadows, reminding Ingrid that winter was not over yet. Shivering slightly, Ingrid wondered briefly if she should go and grab her coat, but her curiosity stopped her. She wanted to meet the mysterious sender of the notes and the roses.
Walking over to the railing, Ingrid looked down over the school. Couples were walking hand in hand – oblivious to the chill in the air or the layer of mild frost on the ground. She closed her eyes, bringing the roses to her nose and inhaling their heady scent – each one was different, the various scents combining luxuriously to create a sensual aroma.
Opening her eyes, Ingrid came face to face with a single, blood red rose. Her eyes widened in shock. She knew that hand, just as she knew, there was only one person in the world, who could walk up behind her without her noticing. With a trembling hand, Ingrid reached out and took the offered rose, before turning around and gazing into the chocolate-brown eyes of her partner.
One word escaped her lips. "Why?"
Fillmore laughed, a soft chuckle that spoke more of affection than amusement. "I would have thought that was slightly obvious by now Ingrid." He said, wrapping his arms around his startled partner.
Ingrid gaze flitted from her roses in her hands, to the notes held between her fingers, to Fillmore's face and back again. For once in her life, the girl-genius was having a hard time working out what was going on.
Seeing her confusion, Fillmore decided to explain. He pointed to the first rose. "Yellow. For friendship. The day I met you back in Middle School is one I will never forget. I remember thinking that there was something about you – I'm not sure what, but it was something – a spark." He pointed to the second rose, trailing a finger across its petals. "Pink. For admiration. As we worked together, as we solved crime after crime, I came to admire you. You were so driven, determined to see justice done – and you felt it so keenly whenever life dealt people an unfair hand." He touched the third rose, "We reached High School, and we grew up. We changed, and I realised I was falling in love with you – that's what this rose symbolises – but you always seemed so unattainable. You were too brilliant, too beautiful – the one girl who would always be out of my league – so I settled for friendship, I never asked you out, because I was convinced you would turn me down. Why would you date a thug? So we were friends and that was that."
Carefully, Fillmore ran a petal of the fourth rose between his thumb and fourth finger. "Burgundy. For Unconscious beauty. It wasn't until the Lucino case – where you had to go undercover as a debutante, that I realised you don't even know how beautiful you are Ingrid. You outstrip Karen, Penny, and every other girl I've ever met." He placed a finger on her lips to silence her protests. "You are beautiful Ingrid. It's not just you're looks, its your heart too." He paused and his eyes swept her body, causing Ingrid to blush, "Though I must admit – you do look good." Ingrid laughed nervously, her eyes darting up to meet his gaze before glancing back down again. Their right hands were now intertwined and Fillmore's left was tracing patters on her cheek.
"I think you know as well as anyone, what red roses stand for," he said, tilting her chin up so she was looking at him.
Ingrid swallowed, "They mean 'I love you'" she said, voice wavering slightly as she said it. Here she was, standing with her best friend on a roof, as they (in a rather round-about way) declared their love for each other. She would have laughed, if she hadn't wanted it all so badly.
Fillmore's mouth curled into a smile as he nodded, his eyes never leaving Ingrid's. He seemed to be searching for something in her gaze, and she assumed he found it, because the next moment his lips were on her and he was kissing her. Ingrid had the presence of mind to move her arms around his neck – thus removing the flowers from harms way – before she melded her body against his. Fillmore's arms instinctively tightened around her and the two stood there, locked in each others embrace, until the need for air forced them to separate.
Ingrid was glad to see she wasn't the only one breathing heavily, though it was hard to tell if Fillmore was blushing as much as she was. Looking into his eyes, she unconsciously licked her lips, causing Fillmore to grin wolfishly. Leaning down, he whispered in Ingrid's ear, his lips just brushing the sensitive flesh of her ear.
"I love you."
A/N: Well there you have it. Valentines Day Fillmore and Third style. Apologies for any grammatical or spelling errors, this was written in a rush when I got home and had a brainwave. As always reviews are appreciate. Thank you.