Shattered

By: Abellen

Chapter Ten: Fortitude

Tehama was leaning against Ingrid's desk when we arrived back in the Safety Patrol office. She was flicking through some squares of glossy paper with an annoyed frown on her face. She glanced up when we came in, and a small smile tugged at her lips. 'How was detention?'

'Pointless,' I stated. 'Ingrid caught up on some lost sleep, but that was it.'

'At least it was empty,' Karen reminded me. 'If it was tomorrow you'd have had three frauds and a graffitti artist glaring at you.'

I grunted and took the photos out of her hand before giving them a cursory glance. The cheerleaders' headquarters seemed pretty average. There were various colours of pom-pom, and mirrors for them to practice their routines in front of. Lockers lined one wall, all neatly closed and graffiti free. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and I dropped them on Ingrid's desk. 'Did we miss anything?'

'No, it's like a grave.' Karen winced at her faux pas and looked at Ingrid. 'Sorry, Ingrid.'

'Don't worry about it; it's just a phrase.'

'I'm beginning to think that nothing's going to come of the threats. It's almost like someone was just deliberately shaking people up.'

'I'm not so sure,' Ingrid mumbled as Tehama busied herself at the microscope. 'I think they're waiting for something. Some school event, or perhaps a certain time of year. They've gone to a lot of effort just to hoax us.' She gave a soft groan of pain and I looked up at her sharply.

My partner was sitting with her elbows on her desk and her head in her hands. What I could see of her face was twisted in pain, and she was massaging her right temple with her hand. I'd seen her make a similar motion when trying to recall a photographic memory from the myriad of images in her head, but I'd never seen her look so agonised from it before.

She gave a growl of annoyance and straightened up, rolling her shoulders before picking up the chocolate bar Tehama had left on her desk and snapping it in half. She gave one half back to Karen and took a small bite of the other, before picking up one of the photographs and frowning at it in thought.

'You okay?' I asked as she rifled through the photos, glaring at each one.

'Yeah. I've seen one of these before, or something in one of these, but I can't think what!'

'I thought photographic memories were supposed to be perfect,' Tehama said softly, obviously not wanting to annoy Ingrid further.

Ingrid jabbed a finger at the wound on her forehead. The stitches had been removed, but sterile adhesive tape still held it together. 'Head injuries disturb them. Memories directly before and after are crystal clear, but then the mechanism goes a bit,' she paused, trying to think of the right word, 'wobbly. I'm getting a feeling of deja vu from one of these photos, but I don't know which one, or why.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, Fillmore, I'm sure. Something in one of these photos shouldn't be there, and I've seen it somewhere before.'

She grabbed the pictures and stuck them up one by one on a marker board on the wall. There were six in all, showing the rooms from every angle.

'Well there's a football shirt in that one,' Tehama pointed out. 'What's that doing in a cheer-leading head quarters?'

'The footballer's lockers are just across from there,' I said dubiously, squinting at the red top with a white X on the front.

'That's number seven. Meredith Lackey's older brother plays that spot. Meredith's on the cheer-leading squad. Chances are she borrowed it to wear around school,' Ingrid mumbled, barely sparing the red jersey a glance. 'That's not what I'm looking for.'

We spent the next half an hour pouring ceaselessly over the pictures, and it was only when I noticed how distressed Ingrid was getting that I stopped. 'School finished nearly two hours ago, and even Vallejo's gone home. Come on, let's call it a night.'

'But-'

'No, Ingrid. You're running on no sleep and strong caffeine.' I crossed my arms prepared, as always, for the argument to come, but rather than standing her ground Ingrid ran a hand through her hair and backed down.

'Fine,' she mumbled, with one last hateful look at the wall of photographs.

'I'll see you two tomorrow,' Karen called as she headed for the door, her bag on her shoulder. 'I hope you sleep better, Ingrid.'

'Thanks Karen. See you in the morning.'

I waited for Ingrid to get her stuff together. She ha always had a habit of spreading her work all over the office. Many mornings I'd found startling mathematical equations on my desk that she'd scribbled out the day before.

She finally got her books together and shrugged out of the denim jacket.

I shook my head when she held it out for me to take back. 'Keep it,' I said. 'It's getting too small for me.'

'You sure?'

'Yeah. I've got another, bigger one at home.' I watched her shrug it back on and a thought that had fluttered through my mind all day came back full force. There was something good about seeing Ingrid wearing my jacket. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but it was satisfying to think that, in some small way, I was providing for her.

'Thanks, Fillmore. Do me a favour and keep the umbrella? You never seem to have one, and we have plenty at home.' Ingrid asked as she pulled her hair free of the collar.

'Deal.'

Just before she left she snatched one photo off of the board and slipped it into her bag.

'You know you shouldn't take evidence home,' I sighed.

'I'm just eliminating it from the equation that's all. Besides, it'll take my mind off of sorting through my parents' stuff. Ariella and I were wondering if we should sell the place.'

I stiffened, but busied myself with locking the office door. 'You're going to move away?'

'No, we're staying here. Ariella's enrolled in a course that's going to last her several years, and I've got a while before I'm likely to move away. Besides,' she added with a smile as she nudged me with her elbow, 'my friends are here. We just think the house is a bit big for the two of us.'

'Well if you need help moving or anything I can give you a hand,'

'Thanks, we might take you up on that. It probably won't be until the new year. So another ten weeks at least.'

We walked back to her place side by side, sometimes in silence, sometimes talking about whatever crossed our minds. She was tired and tense, that much was obvious, but she seemed to be a different girl from the exhausted figure in the detention hall an hour or so before. I didn't really know how grief worked, or what to expect, but I hoped that she was starting to come to terms with what had happened. There were two ways that Ingrid could go, and at the moment she was walking the knife edge that separated recovery from despair. I desperatley wanted to see her make steps to returning to her old self, and a tiny, hopeful part of me though that maybe she already had.

I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it again, not wanting to bring up the question that had been lurking on my mind. I needed to ask her about Harris, but there never seemed to be a good time. Unfortunately this time she had seen my hesitancy, and her curiosity got the better of her.

'What is it, Fillmore?' she asked softly, taking my hand and pulling me to a halt. 'You were going to say something, what was it?'

'It can wait. You don't need to talk about it right now,' I mumbled, looking at the sidewalk beneath my feet, rather than at her face.

'Why don't you just ask? If I don't want to answer, then I won't.'

I drew in a deep breath, and ploughed ahead. 'When Harris broke your ribs, was that all he did?'

'I thought you read the file,' she replied, a trace of annoyance in her voice.

'You might not have told anyone about it. The report didn't exactly say much.'

Ingrid squeezed my hand in reassurance before taking a deep breath. 'All Harris did when I was eleven was punch me. He broke some bones and gave me bruises, but didn't,' she paused and bit her lip, 'didn't rape me or anything. Now though, I wouldn't put it past him.'

I stopped and took her shoulders, pulling her around to face me. 'By the lockers – he – he didn't -' I stammered, unable to get my words out through the cloud of anger and panic that had washed over me in those few frozen seconds.

'No! No, Fillmore. He was getting too close for comfort, and maybe if it had been in a quiet place he would have tried, but it was in the middle of school. Harris may be criminal, but he's not stupid.' Ingrid shook her head forcefully, but maintained her eye contact. 'If he had I would have told you, and the police.'

I lowered my head and let her go, feeling relief weaken my knees.

'This is really getting to you, isn't it?' Ingrid asked softly, her slender hands cupping my chin and pulling my gaze up to hers. 'Ever since that meeting in Folsom's office over a year ago, you've acted a little differently.'

'I just can't stand the thought. What – who could do that to someone?' I asked quietly. 'It gave me nightmares for weeks. I was too late to help you, and there was nothing I could do.'

Ingrid moved closer, and her nearness gave me a bit of strength. Her eyes were deep, dark green and filled with an emotion caught somewhere between love and passion. Her hand was still on my cheek and I realised that she was close enough to touch, to kiss...

I bit my lip to stop myself at the same time that she pulled back slightly, and dropped her hand to her side. It felt like the world came rushing back in, and reality reinserted itself. Reality: where I was strong and unafraid... Except that Ingrid knowing what I was scared of didn't matter. If anything she looked as though she understood.

'I – I'm worried that he's going to catch me out one day,' she confessed quietly. ' I don't think I'm strong enough to fight back. I'm trying not to think about it, because if I do I'll always be looking over my shoulder,' Her right hand rubbing her left forearm in a nervous gesture.

'I suppose all you can do is be careful, and keep your radio on,' I scowled at those pitiful measures. If I had it my way I'd always be there, keeping an eye out for her, but we had separate lives and it just wasn't possible to watch out for someone all the time.

Ingrid had bought her hand to her mouth at my last statement, and I looked at her panicked expression. 'What is it?'

'My radio.'

'Have you left it in the office?'

'No, no it's broken. Harris kicked my bag when he heard Vallejo calling for all officers to attend the scene. It got smashed to bits.'

I pulled my radio off of my belt and handed it to her. 'We'll get you another one tomorrow.'

She nodded in agreement, accepting the little black device as we approached her house. 'Thanks for telling me, Fillmore. Sometimes it helps to know why you behave the way you do.' She smiled as I raised a questioning eyebrow. 'I'd have to be blind not to notice how protective you're being, but I appreciate it.'

'Look out for yourself, Ingrid, and try and get some sleep.'

'Yes, Fillmore.' She rolled her eyes mockingly and bounded up the steps, letting herself into the house before shutting the door behind her.

I sighed, wondering if, on the other side of the door she was feeling the same strange sense of loss that I was. Following my mother's sensible advice was easier said than done. Every fibre of my being wanted to kiss Ingrid, and hold her close and protect her from everything, but I couldn't give into it. Something told me that any relationship with her would be more than just physical, and I didn't want to lose a chance to find out just what it could be by choosing the wrong time to start it.

I had to be patient, but it was getting harder everyday not to give in. I smiled as I thought of what could have happened, and kicked at the leaves that rattled on the sidewalk. Would she have smiled? Would she have kissed me back?

Maybe it couldn't be now, but one day I'd move closer and steal a kiss, rather than pull away and try to keep my distance.

One day couldn't come soon enough.

End of Chapter Ten

A/N: Well, since I'm away this weekend, without internet connection i thought I'd get this up for you today. It's probably your last chapter until next sunday, so enjoy it! Thank you, as always, to all reviewers!