The Patroller and the Thief
Chapter four?! On a holiday?! What is this madness?!
WARNING: Gut-wrenching story twist ahead.
P.S. Happy Easter. Hash tag you go Jesus, you go!
xXxXx
Chapter Four – A Psyche Unleashed
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I stumbled lazily down the stairs half an hour later, freshly showered and decked in a pair of old black X Middle School sweatpants (yeah, "black" and "X" in the same sentence is unprecedented, I know) and a large grey t-shirt with an obscure emblem on the front. It was now one in the morning, but after a cold shower, which, contrary to my prior knowledge, was refreshing and invigorating. So my mind seemed to be wired while my body was trudging behind it, struggling to keep up with its activity.
I sat down on the lumpy red couch and groaned as I lied down, my aching body sinking into the cushions and creaking as its twisted muscles adjusted. I sprawled out on the couch and waited for my body to assimilate into the furniture and for the pain to dull.
"Ingrid why don't you go sleep in your own bed?" I heard my father say from across the room; he was far off to my left behind the couch so I couldn't see him. "It might be more comfortable."
I groaned.
I heard him chuckle as he approached me. He picked something up off of the side table next to the couch behind my head and when he handed it to me, I saw it was the remote. "Would you like this?"
I groaned once more at the thought of having to move, but stuck out my hand, which shook with effort.
"Thought so," he said, placing the device in my hand and waiting until he was sure I had a good grip on it before letting go. I turned on the TV and sat the remote down on my leg and placed my arms gingerly back to their original place on my stomach. I took a painful deep breath as Dad leaned down and kissed my forehead.
"I'm going to sleep Ingrid," he told me and started towards the hallway and added just before he disappeared, "You should too, you know."
I smiled in response as the TV came on. My photographic memory started acting up as that juvenile jingle played, the host spoke and the crowd cheered; I instantly recognized what show it was. Jerry Springer. I hated that guy, but I wasn't planning on watching anything anyway.
"Night Dad," I said as my gaze remained on the ceiling above me; the ceiling fan whirred up above me as it spun in a monotonous circle, much like the thoughts in my head. I was vaguely aware of my father standing in the doorway watching me, but I unconsciously pushed that away when the realization of the severity of all that had happened within the past couple of weeks came back to me.
I just couldn't stop thinking about Wade.
I know I shouldn't have been feeling so guilty and so hurt – he deserved it, especially after what he did to me, right? – but I couldn't help myself.
I'm not so sure how much time had passed since I had initially turned on the TV before I thought I heard a knock at the front door. It shocked me out of my reverie and made me look at my watch; it was almost 1:30.
I heard it again.
Actually, it sounded more like a kick than a knock.
I struggled to sit up, my muscles groaning with stiffness, and I slowly made my way to the door, my nerves suddenly going into overdrive, my adrenaline rushing through my veins. Who would be kicking at the door in the middle of the night?
Approaching the door, I quietly stood on my tiptoes, placed my fingertips gingerly on the door for support, peered into the peephole and saw my answer.
I reached over, unchained the door, unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.
"Fillmore."
He was clad in that irritatingly flattering leather jacket of his, an ace bandage and wielded a smoothie from Froyo in one hand with two bags from the Egg Rollery to his chest with his injured arm.
"Don't sound so unhappy to see me."
"It's 1:30 in the morning Fillmore. Most people are asleep."
"You obviously weren't, so what's the deal?"
"Except you wouldn't have come over if you hadn't known I was awake. You wouldn't even know that unless you were spying on me, so what's your deal?" I retorted, quite satisfied with myself upon seeing the flashy grin on his face.
"Well, I was going to call, but since your dad actually called me and asked me to come over it seemed kind of…" he paused, searching for a word, and asked, "what's a good word to describe this?"
I crossed my arms and sent him a glare, despite that I was happy to see him. "Unnecessary?"
"Exactly."
"Wipe that dumb grin off your face, belt."
He grinned wider. Crackers. Why did he have to be such a rebel and look so good doing it in the process?
"What, you're not gonna leave your best friend to freeze outside all alone after such a long night and all the trouble he took just to get here, are you?" he teased and looked at me with his sarcastically pained, undercover-savvy stare with those warm brown eyes of his. I bit the inside of my cheek on the non-swollen side of my face and pretended to deeply consider my options.
I sighed. "Not if that smoothie's for me."
He held out the Froyo cup as the smug half smile appeared on his face. He always smiled that way when he felt like he'd won something; the smile that threatened to make me melt on the inside. Thankfully, I was one of the best undercover operatives in the force, or else he'd most likely be onto me.
"Yeah," he said with a chuckle, "I figured I'd have to pay the toll. And you might be hungry since you can't chew."
I broke my bitter demeanor with as good of a smile as I could manage. I took the smoothie from his hand and grabbed one of the bags from his arm. I pushed the door opened with my back and stepped aside to let him in.
"You might have figured right."
I shut the door as he walked past me, chaining and locking the deadbolt, and we proceeded to the living room where I had been lying for at least half an hour, staring hopelessly and aimlessly at the ceiling. The bags were placed on the table, Fillmore on the couch to my right, and then it was just us. Nothing else in the world, nothing else mattered. Two unlikely heroes of the X community.
But I didn't feel like a hero.
Beside me, Fillmore reached into the Egg Rollery bag and grabbed one of the egg rolls and bit into it. The greasy, delicious smell hit my nose and I instantly ached for one, but I continued to sip the smoothie to quell the hunger.
"So what's been on your mind, Ingrid?" Fillmore asked me, his mouth slightly full, as I sipped on the pomegranate blueberry smoothie thoughtfully.
"There's nothing like kicking aside the crap and getting down to the real business, huh?" I said and I kicked my feet up on the coffee table and held the smoothie in my hands. I ran my thumb across the label, debating what I should tell him.
I guess it's now or never. No one's really giving me a chance to get my thoughts together anyway.
"I don't know, Fillmore," I told him. He didn't ask me to elaborate. Didn't push me to continue. He just finished his egg roll and waited patiently for me to start. He put his arm across the back of the couch and stared at me. "Where do I even start?"
He began to say something, but I stopped him and said, "Don't you dare say 'the beginning'."
He laughed and shook his head. "I was just going to ask how you've been feeling. That might be a start."
I bit my lip, not sure of how I should respond. I put the smoothie back on the table and settled into the couch, sinking into the cushions as much as I could. I couldn't prevent that awful feeling of shame creeping up my stomach.
That was when Fillmore started to push.
"You look like you're sad," he told me, his voice soft. "Like you're hurt."
I closed my eyes. Now or never, Third.
"I know I should be proud," I started, opening my eyes and staring down at my hands. "I mean, we just cracked the biggest case in X history. And I was in the epicenter of it all. Why wouldn't I be proud?"
"But you're not?" Fillmore asked.
I shook my head, closing my eyes once more in shame. I couldn't believe I was actually going to say all of this. My hands started to shake and I felt myself starting to fall apart. "No, I'm not."
"Why?" he asked, pushing me closer and closer towards the edge. He moved closer to me when I didn't answer. "Ingrid, why?"
I forced back the lump in my throat as the image of Wade's distraught eyes resurfaced. "I hurt him, Fillmore."
Fillmore sighed and shook his head as silence fell over us. "Ingrid, you were just doing your job."
I scoffed and crossed my legs, resting my guilty hands in my lap. "If this is what my job's going to ask of me for the rest of my life then I'm not so sure I want to do this."
Fillmore stiffened next to me. "What are you saying?"
Something inside me suddenly snapped, and everything came spilling out of me, I couldn't stop it. I started to rant hysterically, my reserve completely shattering as I looked at him and started to expel every poisonous thought I had in my head, disregarding how he might take it. "You didn't see the look in his eyes Fillmore, and not just from tonight, for the past two weeks! You weren't there for any of it! You have no idea how serious this is and what happened between us!"
"Then tell me," he challenged, facing me completely and staring defiantly into my eyes, daring me to show him up.
"My job was to get him to trust me," I began. I turned my entire body to face him, ignoring the pains shooting through my body as I moved. They no longer mattered. They wouldn't even begin to overpower the pain I felt in my heart and mind. I looked my partner in the eyes and tried to keep myself together as I told the story.
"I was supposed to get inside his head, figure him out and relay everything I learned to you. I was supposed to find out his plans and take him down." I stopped as I tried to piece together the words.
"And you did, Ingrid," Fillmore said when I fell silent. "You did everything you were supposed to and then some. You shouldn't be feeling guilty about that."
"But I wasn't supposed to make him fall in love with me. That wasn't my intention."
Fillmore's eyes softened. He finally realized what was truly plaguing my mind; I saw it in his eyes. "Ingrid…" he paused, unsure of what to say. "There was always the potential for that to happen. I'm going to be honest…" He rubbed a hand over his eyes and reluctantly revealed to me, "That was kind of what everyone was hoping would happen. For him to like you so he would let you in."
I laughed and looked down, shaking my head at his oblivion. "I don't think you're quite getting it." He frowned, trying to decipher the riddle inside my words. I licked my lips, debating whether I should show him what I meant to Canton, how far Canton was willing to go to keep me with him. I decided. "He really wanted a relationship with me. He was willing to take it to the highest levels to ensure that I stayed with him and to show his love to me. He wanted me, Fillmore." I stared directly into his eyes. It took a moment, but when the severity of what I was trying to reveal to him finally hit him, the spark of fear in Fillmore's eyes almost made me regret telling him.
"Ingrid, no. He didn't."
My heart was beating faster than it had when Wade had the blade to my throat as Fillmore spoke those four small words. I remembered that night I was at Wade's mercy.
I told him what happened.
We were sitting in Canton's apartment living room. He was discussing everything he planned to do, what his next target was.
The rumored X High School treasury.
And all he needed were the gossiped about blueprints, which, unbeknownst to him, were still in the process of being forged and planted by the Safety Patrol.
"And the only reason I'm telling you this Dee," Canton said, turning towards me and taking my hand, "is because I believe that you and I can pull this off."
Good, I thought while I smiled at him in fake sentimentality.
"And because," he paused, looked into my eyes, and said, "I think that you and I are connected." I furrowed my eyebrows, curious as to where he was leading. He chuckled nervously and continued. "I mean, whenever I see you, I just…" He put a hand on my cheek, and it burned with the contact. "Yearn."
I smiled at him. "Well, that's cute."
He laughed and looked down at his lap. When he looked back up at me, his emerald eyes pleaded with me something passionate, alive and adoring. It sent a shock through my chest I had never felt when I realized what he was saying.
He loved me.
His lips crashed down onto mine, and, only for the sake of my cover and the mission at hand, I played along. It wasn't anything like I had ever imagined my first kiss being like; it was hard, fierce, and hungry as he bit my upper lip. My heart raced in my chest, but not with lust. Adrenaline, anticipation, and, I realized then, fear.
He pushed me down further into the couch and lied down on top of me. I didn't resist, at least not yet. I held his face in my reluctantly shaking hands as his tongue danced across my lips, but I didn't let him in. I felt his hands searching for the zipper on my black jeans and every nerve inside me came alive, electrified, and I finally resisted.
I put my hands against his chest and pushed up, making him break away from me. "Whoa," I said, trying to keep my voice steady and play it cool.
"Come on," he replied, unfastening my jeans. "Just relax."
He kissed me again, his lips scaling my neck as his hands suddenly flew up my shirt, grabbing my breasts. He bit the side of my neck and I felt his jeans swell against my leg. Fear swept through me and I pushed his hands down and out of my shirt.
"Wade, stop," I ordered, more firmly, and squirmed beneath him. If there was any time I needed my partner, it would have been that moment.
But he had to stay far away from me. This was a serious mission. The connection we had just couldn't be noticed by Canton or else the entire mission could have been compromised.
Fillmore wouldn't come. He didn't even know where I was.
Fear wrapped itself around me as Wade put his hands around my neck, forcing me down and squeezing hard to keep me from moving as he continued to kiss me, hard and hungry.
"If at any point you feel you're in any immediate danger," Fillmore said. We had been in Vallejo's office just after I had been given the assignment. Vallejo had gone to address something Junior Commissioners addressed, and it had just been the two of us left in the room. "You protect yourself by any means necessary; I don't care if it blows your cover to pieces, Ingrid. Canton is dangerous and ruthless. He'll do whatever it takes to get what he wants. Protect yourself no matter what the cost to the mission, do you hear me?"
"Yeah," I told him. When I saw the look in my partner's eyes, I knew he was bitter. He wouldn't be by my side to protect me. He hated that I was going to be on my own.
Just like now.
It took a split second for me to make the decision between my personal well being and the mission.
I punched him in the face as hard as I could from such a vulnerable position. I couldn't get much momentum, but it was enough to stun him. He cried out and held his face with the hands that were robbing me of air and I took advantage of his surprise and pushed him off of me. When he fell onto the ground, I stood up and zipped my pants back up as he started to get back up.
"Dee, what's your problem?"
"My problem?" I said, astonished. "You just had your hands around my neck, practically choking me as you were trying to get in my pants and you're asking me what my problem is."
"Dee-"
"No, Wade!" I shouted, fear being the only thing fueling me. "You-"
My burn phone rang in my pocket, startling the both of us. I reached hastily into my pocket with shaking hands, grabbed the device, and answered it.
"What?" I snapped and a startled, familiar voice replied.
"Dee?" Fillmore asked, using my undercover name in case someone else was listening or any surrounding parties could hear him. He didn't bother hiding the concern in his voice.
"What's up?" I turned my back on Canton and ran my free hand through my hair.
"We've got the prints. You okay?"
I took a deep breath of relief. He had no idea how great his timing was.
"Good. Thanks for the heads up."
I hung up.
And then I left.
