A/N: Please Read This! Okay, I should probably mention a couple things that come up in this chapter.

1.) Ingrid and Fillmore are in 8th grade.

2.) I know this isn't what really happens, but according to one small paragraph in my story Ingrid's mom walked out on them. I know it has been stated by creators of the show that Ingrid's mother is dead, but I thought this would be interesting.

3.) A little bit of sad stuff (really sad stuff) in this chap. You've been warned. Hope it's not too melodramatic.

4.) All the phone conversations from here on will be in italics. Just for fun :)

5.) Fillmore/Ingrid relationship is not mentioned in the next two chapters. Not at all, sorry.

Anyway, keep reading and reviewing.

Friday, Ingrid got the note Anza had written her. Fillmore was the one to deliver it. He walked in Ingrid's front door withought knocking or ringing the doorbell. Mr. Third had insisted on this a couple weeks prior. Ingrid was sitting on her couch, staring into space. "Ingrid, we need to talk."

Ingrid hadn't withdrawn from Fillmore completely, she simply refused to talk about what had happened between herself and Anza. So she nodded and followed Fillmore up to her room. She closed the door and sat on the floor. "What's up? Anything new?" Ingrid hadn't gone to school that day. She was too exhausted from not eating and sleeping.

"Anza gave me something," Fillmore said, getting into his pocket.

"Fillmore, you know I don't want to talk about Anza. Please, I just-"

Fillmore grabbed her shoulders, "Ingrid, chill ok? Here, he really wanted me to give this to you this." He handed her the note and watched her read it, multiple times, judging by how long it took. She looked up.

"Anza actually wrote this." It was a statement, not a question, but she sounded surprised. "Why?"

"I told him that you weren't doing too good." He sighed, "I asked him what happened, he wrote that to help. I don't know what it says but he said it would fix it."

Ingrid would have to talk to Anza before everything was fixed. But for now this was enough to bring her back to reality. She had to focus. Her sleepover was Saturday. Tomorrow.

Twelve screaming cheerleaders in one household at midnight is enough to drive anyone insane. But a person like Ingrid had even lees of a tolerance for something like that. If it weren't for the case, Ingrid wouldn't even be doing this. And if it weren't for Fillmore's reassurances over the phone once every hour, she would have kicked the girls out at eight thirty. At twelve fifteen, she got her last call.

"Hey Ingrid, how're you holding up?"

"Not that well." She was careful not to say too much, being surrounded by the team.

"Is that Brian again?" Candi asked as the girls giggled.

Ingrid wanted to roll her eyes, but held back. "Shhh, yes, it's him."

The squad laughed again.

Hearing that Fillmore chuckled, "sounds like fun."

"Loads."

"Well hang in there. You never know, tonight may be the night you crack the case."

This time Ingrid did roll her eyes, "Yeah, right."

Again, Fillmore laughed. "Well, just keep at it. Do you need me to call again later?"

"No, it's ok. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Alright, I'm gonna get to bed then. Goodnight Ingrid."

"'Night Brian."

At three thirty the girls were all asleep. Except for Ingrid. She walked over to her desk, opened her jewelry box, and took out her new bracelet. The one from Anza.

"What's that?"

Ingrid spun around, she had been almost certain that everyone else was asleep. But aparently not, there was Libby standing right in front of her. "Um, it's nothing really. It's just a-a gift, from a friend of mine."

"It's beautiful," Libby said, stretching out her hand. "May I see it?"

Hesitantly, Ingrid handed the bracelet over to Libby. "Sure, but it's new so be careful."

Libby nodded, "My best friend, Victoria Hawkins, and I each have one like this."

"Really? I've never heard of her." Ingrid didn't say this because she was the least bit interested in Victoria, or the bracelets, but because she thought it would be rude not to at least pretend to make small talk. The only thing Ingrid actually wanted to do right now was sleep. She was suddenly extremely tired.

"Oh you probably wouldn't know her." Libby said, handing back the bracelet. "She moved across town, so she doesn't go to X anymore."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ingrid said, putting the bracelet back in it's box. She was only half listening now.

"Well, we should probably get to bed, don't you think? I mean, everyone else is asleep."

Ingrid nodded, "Yeah, I'm exhausted."

Libby crawled into her sleeping bag as Ingrid collapsed onto her bed. She had tried to be a good hostess by offering her bed to her guests, but none of them would take it. Now, Ingrid was thankful for it. When you were as tired as she was you could sleep anywhere. Still, there was no place like your own bed. Ingrid's eyelids grew heavy and before she knew it, sleep took over.

Finally, at ten in the morning, the last girl, Cindy, left. Ingrid collapsed onto the couch. She was thinking of dozing off since she had only gotten four hours of sleep the previous night. But just as she was about to drift out of conciousness and into sleep, the phone rang.

"Third residence. Ingrid speaking." This was, after all, the family phone line.

"So I guess they're gone?" Fillmore's familiar voice greeted Ingrid on the other side of the line.

"Yeah, Cindy left a few minutes ago. She was the last one."

"Did you get anything?"

Ingrid sighed, "I'm not sure, I don't think so. But I need to mull it over a while, I'm out of it right now."

"Well, I hope it wasn't a waste of your time."

"Me too." Ingrid cringed, "to think I did all that for nothing."

Fillmore laughed, "Come one Ingrid, admit it. I think you're starting to like hanging out with some of these cheerleaders. Who knows, you may try out for the squad next year."

"Bite your tongue." Ingrid said this seriously but then laughed. "I'll admit, not all of these girls are as annoying as I thought. But me, a cheerleader? Never gonna happen."
"Carmen loved it," Fillmore said offhandedly and immediately wished he hadn't.

Ingrid's ears perked up at this mention of a subject she had wanted to know more about. "The Carmen, was a cheerleader?"

"Uhh, yeah. She was. Anyway-" Fillmore tried to change the subject.

"Oh, no you don't," Ingrid interrupted. "You did this the last time you accidently mentioned Carmen. What's up?"

"Nothing."

"Then why don't you want to talk about her?"

"It's not that I don't want to talk about her. I just-"

"Fillmore, I'm supposed to be your best friend."

"You are, Ingrid."

"How can I be when you won't even tell me about this?"

Fillmore was silent.

"Fillmore?" Ingrid was afraid he had put down the phone and walked away.

Fillmore sighed, "I'll be over in ten minutes."

Ten minutes later Fillmore walked in the front door. He went over to Ingrid and sat down on the couch next to her.

"So," Ingrid said after a few minutes of silence.

"You wanted to know about Carmen." Fillmore said, staring straight forward, not looking at Ingrid. "Why?"

Ingrid shrugged, "I guess because you don't want me to know. I mean, I've told you everything about me and, until this, I thought I knew everything about you."

Fillmore was silent for a minute. "It's not that I don't want you to know." He sighed, "I just don't want to talk about it."

"Like I didn't want to talk about my mother?" Ingrid asked.

Fillmore thought back to when Ingrid had finally admitted that her mother had walked out on their family when Ingrid was very young. Ingrid hadn't wanted to talk about it but Fillmore just wouldn't leave it alone. Finally, she had told him and they hadn't mentioned it since. Maybe that was what would happen with Carmen.

He sighed, "Ingrid, I lied."

"What do you mean, 'you lied'?"

"Just what I said, the little that you know about Carmen is a lie. She wasn't my girlfriend, she was my best friend. My first real friend after I gave up my old life."

Ingrid shook her head, "If she was just a friend, why didn't you want to tak about her?"

"She reminds me of you," Fillmore said.

Ingrid didn't know if this was an answer or an evasion to the question, but she decided to go along with it,"How so?"

Fillmore pulled out a picture of a girl who eerily resembled Ingrid. Ingrid looked at it a few minutes. The girl had straight, short black hair just like her own. The same skin tone, body shape, and facial structure. She was a year or two younger and wearing a red cheerleading uniform. She could have been Ingrid's twin. Except for her eyes. They were blue.

"That's Carmen?"

Fillmore nodded, "The minute I saw you, after I realized you couldn't really be Carmen, I thought, 'oh my gosh, she looks just like her.' But at first I thought you were her."

Ingrid nodded in understanding, "She does look like me, except for her blue eyes."

"It scares me, " Fillmore said softly.

Ingrid agreed, "Yeah, it is kind of creepy."

Fillmore shook his head. "No, you don't get it, Ingrid." He turned toward her. "It really scares me. You remind me of her too much." He sighed, "We were great friends and I'll never see her again. And you and I are-"

"Fillmore, she was your best friend and she moved away. I know it's hard, but I'm not going to leave. I promise."

"You don't have any control over it."

"I've lost you Fillmore. You know my dad would never force me to move."

"He can't control it either. That's the other thing I lied about. Carmen didn't move a couple of weeks before you came. She died."

"What?"

Fillmore sighed, "Ingrid, Carmen was sick. She had cancer."

Ingrid shook her head, "No, Carmen looks, she looks fine here." She gestured to the picture.

"She was in remission. Carmen was diagnosed when she was five and went into remission when she was ten. Eveyone was sure she was out of the woods by that time. A couple of months before you came her cancer came back, worse than ever. She was dead in a month and a half."

Fillmore wasn't crying but his eyes were wet and glassy looking.

Ingrid put an arm around his shoulder, hesitantly. "Fillmore, I-"

"Do you remember a couple of months ago when you got sick?"

Ingrid nodded, she did remeber, it had been awful. She had gotten scarletina somehow. She ran a high fever, rotated between sweating and having chills, had hallucinations, and vomitted. This lasted for five days and after that she couldn't return to school for a week because of how tired and weak she was.

"Well, you really scared me. That's why I was here almost the whole time. I was afraid that if something happened, I'd be gone. I thought, 'Just please don't let this happen like Carmen.' See, the doctors said she would probably be fine. So I went out of town with my family. Then, when I came back, she was gone. Anyway when the doctor said you would prabably be fine, I didn't believe him. So I stayed here." He looked at the ground. "I never got to say goodbye to Carmen. I wouldn't let it happen again."

Fillmore had turned to face Ingrid. She slipped her other arm around him and he returned the hug. "I am so sorry." Ingrid whispered.

Fillmore nodded, pulled back, and wiped his eyes. "Now you know. That's everything."

Ingrid smiled, "Are you sure? There's no one else who could pass for my twin?"

Fillmore shhok his head, smiling. "It's eery though, you two are practically identical."

"Except for the eyes," Ingrid pointed out.

"And the ears."

"The ears? Fillmore what are you talking about?" Ingrid picked up the picture that had been lying on the coffe table.

"She has her ears pierced." He pointed to little shining dots on Carmen's ears. "See the little silver hoops?"

"Oh, yeah. I guess I just didn't-" Ingrid stopped abruptly and put her hand to her temple; closing her eyes. "Fillmore, that's it! It's the jewelry. Hurry, get Matthew on the phone. I need a background check for someone!"

A/N: Okay, I've got just a little bit of writer's block. I've got part of the next chapter written. But don't worry, I'll be cured soon. Please review, even if you didn't like it. The one thing I don't want to hear is how unbelievable the whole cancer in and out of remission thing is. Because it's actually very acurate, it's exactly what happened to a cousin of mine.