Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has reviews so far. Enjoy the next Act. It's from Ingrid's point of view, and takes place in the summer vacation.


On Bad Days She Reads Shakespeare

Act I: A Midsummer Night's Dream

"The course of true love never did run smooth." William Shakespeare - A Midsummer Night's Dream

The morning sunlight streamed through my window, warming my bedroom with its rays. I groaned quietly to myself, trying to hide my eyes and linger for a moment longer in my dreams. Finally reality forced itself in, and I blinked once or twice, sighing regretfully as the dawn called to me. I had to be one of the few teenagers who'd even consider getting up this early in the morning. Maybe it was a curse of genius or something.

Stumbling out of bed I faced my reflection in the mirror, wrinkling my nose as a litany of criticisms ran through my mind. I was too pale. More obvious though were the shadows under my eyes. I smiled ruefully: it served me right for staying up late reading again.

I picked up my copy of Shakespeare from where it had fallen from my sleepy grasp and carefully marked the page. My family and I had returned from New York just a few days ago. Now the boredom was making me restless and turning my mood dark and introspective. Reading was an old escape, something I'd done from a very young age and enjoyed immensely. Now I turned to my old favorites to put a smile on my face when reality couldn't do the trick.

I looked down at the baggy t-shirt I always wore to bed; one of my Dad's that came down to my knees, and shrugged. It's not like there was going to be anyone downstairs except my family, and somehow I doubted Mom and Dad would be awake yet.

I crept downstairs, avoiding the creaky stair with practiced ease. My bare toes curled at the chill of the tiled kitchen floor and I smiled at my older sister, Ariella, who was slumped over a cup of strong, black coffee.

'You're up early,' I said quietly, moving around the kitchen and preparing myself a bowl of cereal.

'Actually I'm up late.' She smiled sleepily. 'I couldn't stop painting.'

I grinned at her, shaking my head in amusement. I should have known. My sister was the artist of the family, and when the passion to paint took her it was more demanding than basic needs like sleep and food.

'Aren't you going to check your bowl of flour?'

I laughed quietly and shook my head. 'It won't tell me anything. It's just a silly family tradition. It's not even a real Midsummer's Eve superstition.'

'If you really believe that, then why do you still put a bowl of flour out with me every Midsummer?'

Ariella's question was innocent enough, and I couldn't find the right reply. Instead I shrugged. 'Curiosity?'

It was more of a question than an answer, and Ariella got to her feet and opened the door to the garden. Every year since we were small we'd followed a tradition our grandmother had told us about, and our mother had continued. On Midsummer's Eve you put bowl of flour outside. When you woke up in the morning the initials of your future husband would be written in the fine white powder.

It was actually a corruption of a different tradition, and was also meant to be linked with who you dreamt of that night. I blushed at the recollection of who had been in my dreams, but shook it away. It was meaningless anyway.

The sound of my mom carrying a suitcase down the stairs caught my attention, and I smiled at the immaculately presented woman before me. Mom was always away on business of some kind or the other, and the brief visits home were a treat. I was just disappointed that this one was already ending.

Ariella put the bowls down on the table just as our mother walked in, a gentle smile on her lips. 'Well, did it work this year?'

I picked up my bowl and frowned at the scribbles in the surface. 'Not really. I guess it's a bit hard to see initials in slug trails.'

'Oh, Ingrid. Don't say things like that. Isn't there room for a little magic in that head of yours?'

Ariella looked over my shoulder as I gave the bowl a second look. It was only when Mom took the bowl and turned it around by ninety degrees that I saw anything at all. When I did I almost dropped it on the floor in surprise.

'I tell you something. It's definitely not an "M",' Ariella said quietly. 'So much for Marcus.'

'It's not anything,' I replied with a laugh. 'Maybe you two are just seeing what you want to see.'

'I don't know. That looks like "C.F." to me.' Mother smiled quietly into her coffee cup as Ariella took up her own bowl and began to look for the initials of her future partner in life.

C.F. It was sickening how quickly a name sprang to match with those initials. Cornelius Fillmore.

With a sharp shake of my head I tipped the flour down the garbage disposal and picked up my cereal. There were plenty of other people with the initials "C.F." in the world. Besides, what did a dish of flour know anyway?

Idly I flicked on the T.V., watching the chaotic colors of cartoons flicker across the screen. The cartoon was about as mindless as they came, but it almost drowned out my mother's departing instructions to Ariella.

'- And don't let Ingrid spend too much time with this "Marcus" person. We don't even know who he is. Certainly don't leave them alone in a room together!'

'Ingrid will behave, Mom. Don't worry!'

I rolled my eyes and took another mouth full of cereal. School had been bad enough with the speculation among the Safety Patrol about Marcus and I absolutely rife. It was nothing in comparison to my family.

The sad thing was that no one knew the truth except me. Not even Marcus himself. I frowned at my breakfast, losing interest in it quickly. Marcus was attractive enough, and quite charming in his own way, but his reputation preceded him.

When Fillmore had told me what he knew I realized just how little anyone seemed to know about the extent of Marcus DeWhite's crimes.

I longed for the day when I could tell people the truth. No, I corrected myself, when I could tell Fillmore the truth. His confusion was too terrible to watch. I kept seeing the disbelief in his eyes. In my worst moments I even wondered if I saw jealousy or betrayal there, but that was just fantasy. Fillmore was a friend concerned for my safety and happiness, and I was desperate to put that worry at ease.

My thoughts kept running in circles until the day finally began. Mom kissed us and Dad goodbye as she hurried out to her taxi, jetting off on another meeting of international importance. Ariella cleared up the breakfast things while Dad got ready for work. Only when my sister and I had the house to ourselves did I bother getting dressed for the day.

The shower water was warm and soothing as I rubbed shampoo into my hair. It didn't take long for me to get clean and I dressed in jeans and a vest top before blasting my hair with a hair dryer. Jeans had felt strange after wearing a dress to school all year, but after a few weeks I'd gotten used to them. My Mom seemed to think they would be suitably off-putting to Marcus, and I had hoped for the same, but he seemed to appreciate the change.

At least I'd stuck with black. It was the only color I felt comfortable in anymore. Everyone seemed to think that made me gothic, morbid and macabre, but it was no different from someone always wearing pink. Only Fillmore didn't comment on my appearance, although that worked both ways. He never said I looked like a wreck, but he never said I looked good either.

I shoved my feet into my boots and picked up my book before creeping into my sister's room. Ariella was already half asleep, worn out by a night of artistry. Shaking her awake I made sure she was listening. 'I'm going to the park, okay? I'll be back for dinner.'

'You're going out for the whole day?' she asked in amazement, smothering a yawn. 'What about lunch?'

'I've got some money, and my cell phone,' I held it up for her to see.

'All right,' Ariella sighed. 'But promise me that I won't find out you were with Marcus.'

'I'm not seeing Marcus, so if anyone tells you I was, they're lying.' I grinned and waved goodbye.

Ariella just gave a sleepy smile in response, and I made my way downstairs and out of the front door.

The walk to the park was quick, and my bootlaces clattered on the sidewalk with each step. The sun was already quite high and I could feel its warmth on my back as I walked through the gate and onto the lush green grass. The new playground was full of young, laughing children, their mother standing around the periphery nattering to each other. That wasn't where I was going.

On a whim I took of my boots and padded through the grass barefoot. It was still wet from the sprinklers, and by the time I reached the old playground the bottoms of my jeans were soaking. Without pausing I walked through the small gate and onto the strangely springy tarmac. The swings and roundabouts here were abandoned, no longer maintained by the wardens. They weren't supposed to be used, but that didn't stop teenagers from hanging out here.

At night it was the haunt of law breakers. Underage drinkers and smokers looking for another shot of nicotine away from the prying eyes of their parents. During the day it was abandoned, a forgotten piece of desolate land in the middle of an oasis.

I sat on the swing, straddling the narrow plastic seat and opening my book to the right page. In the distance I could still hear the laughter of the children. A gentle breeze ruffled my hair and the pages of my book, creating a soft susurrus in the midsummer air.

I let the soothing words of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" wash over me, smiling at the aptness of my chosen reading material. I was so intent on the play that I didn't notice the passage of time until my neck began to cramp, and my stomach growled pitifully.

I would have kept on reading despite my discomfort, but the creak of the swing next to me made me look up and blink blearily at the young man next to me.

Fillmore was mirroring my position, straddling the swing and leaning his back on one of the chains. It was a bit precarious, but comfortable. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, and his arms were crossed in front of his chest. On most people it looked defensive, but to me it just meant he was at ease.

He looked good, I had to admit that. When I'd started out at his partner he'd been a boy, but now he was approaching manhood at an alarming rate. He'd grown like a weed, topping my height easily. If I stood next to him now the top of my head only came up to his chin. Anza and Danny were the same. Karen and I had an ongoing bet on who would be the first to start shaving.

'Bad day?' he asked quietly by way of greeting, breaking into my reverie.

I sighed and looked down at the book. Fillmore always said he knew when I was unhappy by what I was reading. 'It's more boredom than anything,' I replied, closing the book as the wind ruffled the pages again, threatening to lose my place. 'I must be the only kid in X who misses school.'

Fillmore grinned and moved his leg slightly, letting his swing drift back and forward gently. 'Probably. How was New York?'

'Hot, but interesting. We went to the art galleries for Ariella, the shops for Mom and the museums for Dad.'

'And for you?'

'I just enjoyed being somewhere different.' For a moment there was no sound except the creak of the swings. I had no idea about Fillmore's plans for the summer, and I felt a stab of guilt that I hadn't asked before the end of school. Clearing my throat slightly I carried on: 'How about you, are you going anywhere this summer?'

Fillmore shook his head, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the warmth of the sun. 'Probably visiting family at some point, but mostly we're staying here.'

'Fillmore, are you okay?' I asked quietly, putting my book on the floor beside me and leaning forward to get a better look at his face. 'You look exhausted.'

His smile was faint, a shadow of the grins I was used to and I couldn't help the anxiety that welled inside me at his response. 'Everything will be fine.'

'You want to talk about it?'

Fillmore looked at me and I could see the debate in his eyes. With a sinking feeling I wondered if I was the cause of it. The wind swept a strand of hair across my face and I brushed it away irritably, trying to find my own answers in my partner's expression.

'No, it's all right, Ingrid. But thanks.'

'What are friends for?' I asked quietly, blushing a little as my stomach grumbled more fiercely, reminding me of the hours that had passed since breakfast.

'Come on,' Fillmore said, getting to his feet. 'I'll buy you a hot dog, unless you've gone vegetarian like Ariella?'

'Hardly.'

We ate our hotdogs in the sun, lying on the dry grass and talking about nothing in particular. I told him more about New York, about the backed up taxis and the oblivious Japanese tourists. It was more to fill the silence than anything, but Fillmore had always been easy to talk to.

'Before you joined the Safety Patrol, what kind of thing were you in trouble for?' I asked quietly, wondering if he minded the intrusion. Fillmore's record had always intrigued me, and although I could have done I'd never read his file. Somehow that felt wrong.

'All sorts. Providing cheats for exams, forging hall passes. The usual, really.' A smile crept into Fillmore's voice. 'It was wrong, but sometimes I'm glad it happened.'

'Why?' I asked, my voice lazy as the summer sun warmed my skin, making me lethargic.

'Because when you've been that low its even more of a challenge to change. It means I've got something to be proud of.'

I smiled at that, glad at the conviction in his voice. At the worst times, when Fillmore seemed at his most unhappy, I worried he'd turn his back on the Patrol, and on me. My worst nightmare was the pair of us facing each other as enemies, rather than friends. Hearing him say otherwise made my worries seem so stupid, and for once I was happy to be wrong.

'What about you?'

His question took me by surprise and I sat up to look at him. He was lying down with his eyes shut, and a tiny smile curving his lips.

'What do you mean?'

He opened one eye and fixed me with a "you can't fool me" look. 'Rumor has it that you weren't exactly a saint before you came to X.'

I bit my lip and nodded. 'True. I was bored. I was looking for something to entertain me. I just keep telling myself that it gave me invaluable skills, like picking locks.'

Fillmore laughed quietly and shook his head in disbelief. 'And here was me thinking you were too good to be rebellious.'

I didn't get the chance to answer. The shrill ring of my cell phone cut through the park and I grabbed it, hastily answering the call. I raised an eyebrow in surprise when the Principal answered my greeting.

'Miss Third, I'm sorry to bother you during summer vacation, but I need the Safety Patrol.'

'All of us?' I asked, fighting the butterflies in my stomach. I had my suspicions about why the Principal was calling. I just hadn't thought it would be this soon.

'Just you and Fillmore, Ms Third. I'll brief you when you get to the school. I've already contacted your parents by telephone and in writing, but you should call them just the same. I may need your assistance for some time.' I heard the Principal sigh on the other end of the phone, and could picture her rubbing a hand across her temple.

'We'll be there.'

'I take it Fillmore is with you?' The Principal's voice was perfectly neutral, but I still felt a hint of embarrassment that she'd guessed so accurately.

'Yes.'

'Hurry then, Miss Third. It's time we ended this for good.'

Fillmore was watching me curiously, and when he raised his eyebrow in question I got up and pulled him to his feet. 'The Principal needs us at the school. I guess crime doesn't take a vacation.'

I tossed my cell phone to him and began to walk towards the school, feeling the tension knot in my spine. I'd only just remembered to pick up my book, and now my fingers were pressed hard against the leather cover, taking solace in its familiar texture. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.

Maybe by tonight it would all be over. I just hoped Fillmore could forgive me for being less than straight with him.

By the time we reached the Principal's office I'd told Ariella where I would be. With her usual calm demeanor she told me to be careful, and to call her if I needed a lift home. It always amazed me that any Safety Patrol officer's family seemed to take abnormal behavior in their stride. They understood it was part of the job, even if they didn't like it.

'Do you know what's going on?' Fillmore asked as we stopped outside the Principal's door. His dark eyes were intense, and I couldn't meet his gaze. Instead I murmured a vague reply and stepped into Folsom's domain.

The Principal was standing by her window, surveying her domain with the calculating eye of a professional. In my more childish moments I wondered if she lived in this office. I knew that, logically, she must have a home to go to, but she seemed to spend all hours in her inner sanctum, governing the school with practiced efficiency.

'Have a seat,' the Principal said, gesturing to the chairs lined up opposite her desk. Once we had sat down she turned back from the window and moved towards us, the tap of her high heels muffled on the plush carpet. 'For months now we have been suffering thefts. At first they were petty objects, barely worth our attention. As time has passed the thefts have become more daring, and more dangerous.'

'Why weren't we told about it, before?' Fillmore demanded, frowning at his lack of knowledge about the crimes.

'The thefts have always occurred at night, strictly in the domain of the adult security patrols, but the security guards have failed. The police show little interest in protecting school property, and it seems that you two are the next best thing. In fact, Miss Third has already been working solo on this case for over a month.'

I tried not to flinch as Fillmore looked my way. The expression on his face was one of hurt, and I knew he was wondering how his most trusted friend could keep something so secret from him. Oblivious to the mute communication between us the Principal carried on.

'At my request Miss Third has been surveying the main suspect in this case, getting close enough to find out information that may be useful to us. I loathe the use of underhand tactics, but I was left with little choice.' Folsom grimaced and I took a deep breath, knowing how much the woman had agonized over her decision. In the end it was just as I had told Fillmore on the last day of term. It was my choice.

'Marcus,' Fillmore muttered quietly, not taking his eyes off of me. I nodded once, keeping my eyes averted. I didn't know whether to be sorry or angry. I had wanted to involve Fillmore and had done everything possible to stop him worrying, but in the end it had been impossible without putting my cover at risk. I had to get close to Marcus, and he was jealous enough of my time spent with the male members of the Safety Patrol.

The worst thing was that I knew if Folsom had come to Fillmore with a similar idea he would have felt obligated t do his duty, just as I had. Somehow I doubted that he'd see it that way.

'Marcus DeWhite is our main suspect in this case, and Ingrid has almost gathered enough evidence. What we need - what I need from you two is for you to catch him in the act. He strikes on a nightly basis, and always gets in and away unnoticed. I want to know how he's doing it, and I want him stopped. We have until tonight at midnight. After that he technically graduates from this school and passes from our jurisdiction. Do I make myself clear?'

'Yes, Ma'am,' we murmured in quiet unison.

'Good. I look forward to seeing results.'

It was a clear dismissal, and Fillmore strode out of the door ahead of me, every muscle in his frame tense. Late night stakeouts were rare, but not unheard of in the Safety Patrol. Last year Tehama and Anza hadn't got home until gone midnight when tracing a hacker. Either way it was not a prospect I relished. If nothing else I was dreading the look on Marcus' face when he found out he'd been betrayed.

When we reached the sanctuary of the office I reached into my desk and pulled the file containing the details of the case out of the drawer. Fillmore hadn't said a word, and when I looked up I found he was watching me with a distant, emotionless gaze.

'You lied to us.'

I cringed at the words, wishing I could deny the charges he was laying at my door. 'I didn't have much choice. Besides I didn't tell an all out lie. I just didn't give you all the details.'

Fillmore shook his head and stood up, taking the file from my hands. 'You should really consider a career in acting, Ingrid. You even had me fooled into thinking that you cared for him. I almost feel sorry for DeWhite.'

'Fillmore, it wasn't like that.' My voice fell to a strained whisper. 'I didn't lead him on, but I didn't turn him away either.'

My partner shook his head, staring at the file in his hands unseeingly. 'I just didn't think you were capable of using someone's feelings like that.'

Quickly I looked at my desk, fighting against the emotion inside me. There was no way I was going to let him see me cry. 'It had to be done. Don't you see that?' I asked quietly. 'If Folsom had asked something similar of you, you would have done it. It's part of the job.'

'No it's not, Ingrid. You could have said no. You could have said that you'd get the evidence the old fashioned way. Didn't you think about how this could backfire? As soon as DeWhite finds out that the girl he thinks he likes has done this to him, don't you know what his reaction will be? Revenge. A guy like DeWhite won't stand for this.'

'You sound like you're speaking from experience,' I said softly, jumping slightly when Fillmore pitched the file onto the table with a loud 'slap'. His face was unreadable, and for one breathless moment I wondered who the young man in front of me really was. I couldn't see my best friend in his cool expression. All I could see was anger.

'I can use my imagination, Ingrid. If someone I cared for and trusted betrayed me, they'd be my enemy.'

I didn't - couldn't - reply. All my protests died on my lips as Fillmore sat at his desk and began reading the file, blocking me out of his world. With a shake of my head I got to my feet and grabbed my book, desperate to find an island of calm. I didn't need to re-read the reports. I'd gone over them enough times late at night, trying to find a different interpretation to the evidence. The truth, the words which I couldn't tell Fillmore, was that it wasn't as simple as I'd made out. The agreement with Folsom was that I'd be Marcus' Calculus tutor. Nothing more. I'd been chosen for being level-headed and unlikely to be swayed by DeWhite's charm.

It just goes to show how wrong people can be.

As the facts mounted up I'd despaired, desperate for a way to clear Marcus' name. As much as I hated to admit it I'd become emotionally involved.

The realization had hardened my resolve. Telling Folsom of what I'd found out about Marcus was my punishment to myself for being so foolish. I had got to close to him, and started letting my feelings cloud my judgment. That should never happen.

Yet now Fillmore's anger was more of a punishment that anything I could have imagined.

Walking out of the office I strode to my locker and took several deep, calming breaths. Emotion wasn't a factor in justice. It had no place in an investigation. I had to remember that. Slumping back against the metal door I sank to the floor, putting my forehead on my knees. The book hung limply from my fingertips, and I bit my lip until I tasted blood.

I stayed like that for what felt like hours, trying to control the rising chaos of my thoughts. Gradually I managed to push the whirl of confusion away. The situation was entirely DeWhite's fault. He'd chosen to turn to theft, and if he got caught - that was his problem.

As for Fillmore, I just had to hope that he'd realize that I wasn't the cold-hearted witch he thought I was. If all else failed I'd tell him the truth, although I winced at the thought of his reaction to the fact that I'd actually fallen for a suspect.

When I walked back into the office Fillmore was waiting for me, leaning against my desk as he read through a page of the report. His face was expressionless, and I knew that he was putting his emotions aside for later. There was a case to solve; everything else could wait. I had to do the same.

'He comes in through the janitor's entrance,' I said quietly, 'and probably leaves the same way. We're going to want to catch him on the way out.'

'Why not on the way in?' Fillmore asked, nodding as I responded.

'We need concrete evidence. So far it's just speculation and circumstantial facts. We'll have to catch him with something he's stolen, and since his targets are unpredictable...' I trailed off, holding my hand out for the report and double checking the facts. 'So far I've not found anything to suggest a pattern. If you ask me he's doing it for kicks.'

Fillmore looked at me, his eyes measuring me steadily. 'Is your stake-out gear here?'

'Of course.'

'Good. Come on, we need to check the school over.'

The rest of the day passed in pained silence. Fillmore and I rarely spoke unless it was to comment on potential escape routes or preparations for the stake-out ahead. When dusk finally fell and the adult security guards began their rounds we returned to the office and got ready.

Wordlessly I took the grey clothes from the supply locker and closed the door to Vallejo's office, changing swiftly. Shades of grey were a far more successful camouflage in a school sporadically lit. Black stood out unless it was total darkness, something that we were unlikely to come across in X.

When I emerged Fillmore handed me a torch, and I checked my radio was turned off before clipping it to my waste. A stealthy situation such as this couldn't be ruined by a random burst of static. Our Safety Patrol sashes were left behind, discarded ribbons in the encroaching darkness. They'd give away our position far too easily. 'You ready?'

'Of course.'

'Remember, if you corner him don't go in alone,' Fillmore warned me, waiting for my agreement.

'I'll wait for you, as long as you do the same for me.'

His reply was a non-committal grunt as we left the office and moved down the corridors of X. The school was eerily quiet, and I couldn't help but feel my nerves stretch taught as we approached the janitor's entrance. It led out to a yard of sorts, a no-man's land of broken cleaning utensils and abandoned furniture. Normally it would have been locked, but it hadn't taken me long to find the crowbar marks around the door's frame. The mechanism had been compromised weeks ago.

Our footfalls made no sound as we moved with practiced skill. There was an art to it that allowed speed and silence all at once. Fillmore and I had perfected it as much as we could, but it was an exhausting process. I was aware of every shadow and flicker of light, every subtle sound and movement. Innocent silhouettes were twisted into more sinister objects by my imagination, and as Fillmore gave the signal to split up I took a deep breath.

Fear had no place in a stake-out.

The two classrooms closest to the Janitor's door were unoccupied, the desks and chairs silent and the chalkboard unmarked. Even the class pets were absent, taken home by caring pupils. I shut the door behind me and stood to the side, waiting for the tell-tale silhouette of an intruder.

Fillmore was further up the hall, and by the time he saw anything I would already be on the move. We would follow the perpetrator at a distance until they had stolen what they were looking for, and then take them down.

My breath caught in my throat as the sound of a door opening reached my ears. I could hear the faint patter of footsteps, nothing to the untrained ear, and saw the shadow of a young man look over its shoulder before continuing on. It was a painful process of hurry up and wait. I had to stay put until I was sure the target was out of hearing range. If I opened the door straight away my cover would be blown.

After twenty thundering heartbeats I made my move, checking each side of the door for a skulking shadow before slipping out into the hallway. Walking in a half crouch I kept to the shadows, and kept my eyes open. Whoever I was following turned the corner ahead of me and vanished out of sight.

Distantly I heard Fillmore open the door I had just passed, and nodded at him as he moved out to join me. Mutely I pointed to the right and led the way, keeping back from the perpetrator just enough to stay hidden.

After several minutes of breathless, silent pursuit I halted at a junction and ducked back into the shadows, watching as shadowy figure stopped at the teacher's lounge and produced a paperclip. I watched, knowing each of his movements as though I were doing it myself.

He unraveled the wire and inserted it into the lock, forcing the tumblers to perform their opening dance. With a subtle click the lock was overcome. He hesitated for a moment, and I felt Fillmore's hand on my back as he steadied himself, trying to get a better look at whoever our thief was.

Fillmore's breath tickled the back of my neck and I shivered slightly as my skin tingled in response. 'Can you see who it is?' Fillmore whispered, his voice no more than a breeze on the air. Mutely I shook my head, unconsciously leaning towards his warmth. At moments like this it was almost impossible to keep my mind on the job.

Suddenly the thief turned to look towards us. I caught the gasp on my lips, not daring to let it go further as I froze. He hadn't seen us, he couldn't have, but there was no doubt about the identity of our thief. I had hoped that I was wrong somehow, but when I saw Marcus' face my heart lurched. There was no joy in being right this time.

Finally Marcus turned away and slipped into the teacher's lounge, letting the door swing shut behind him. 'Come on, that room's not got any other exits. We can catch him in the act.'

'Wait, Fillmore. Unless we catch him stealing something we can only book him on trespass and breaking and entering. That's not enough. Wait until he comes out, and then we'll get him.' I nodded to myself, pushing any doubts aside. My reasoning was sound and even Fillmore could see that, but even as I said it I wondered what my true motivation was. I didn't want Marcus to get away, did I?

'He'll run,' Fillmore warned me.

I looked over my shoulder, meeting his gaze with my own for the first time in hours. 'Then we'll chase him. It's what we do best.'

The creak of the door alerted us to our quarry, and in a flash I saw that he had reached my expectations. In his hands was a small book, one I recognized easily. It was the list of confiscated items. The book itself wasn't worth much, but the information inside it could be worth a lot to the right person.

'Ready?' Fillmore whispered, his frame so close to my body that I could feel him tensing in preparation for the chase.

'Ready,' I confirmed, smiling despite myself as I shouted. 'Stop! Safety Patrol!'

Marcus' instinct was predictable, but his panic was not. He whirled to face us, his featured showing every emotion clearly in the split-second before he took flight. His footsteps rang out in the passageway, and ours thundered after him, all pretense of stealth lost.

Fillmore's radio hissed to life as he asked the adult security guards to block the exits. It wouldn't cover every way out of the school, but it would help. Marcus must have heard it because his swearing reached my ears as I ran. He was spooked, and began taking corners at random, no doubt hoping that he could lose us.

On instinct Fillmore peeled off, taking a different path as I stayed on DeWhite's trail, not letting him out of my sight. I stretched my stride out further, narrowing my eyes in the gloom as I skidded around a corner and realized what lay ahead. The gymnasium. X middle school had excellent sports facilities, including a large pool, and I knew that if he ran in there he would be cornered.

Switching tactics I began to herd him, making sure he knew that I was right behind him so that his instinct would be to run the shortest possible route to freedom. Fillmore emerged off to the left, blocking another possible escape route and leaving Marcus with only one place to go.

It was only as he skidded to a halt at the side of the pool that he realized his mistake, and the doors closed behind him. He whirled to face us, his forehead beaded with sweat and his hair slick against his head. The dim lights reflected off the water, sending dancing patterns across the walls. The smell of chlorine was sharp, and I wrinkled my nose for a moment as he began to back towards the edge of the pool, following the dappled tiles to try and put the large expanse of water between us and him.

Instinctively I went one way while Fillmore went the other, intent on cutting him off.

'It's over, Marcus,' Fillmore called out, his voice echoing strangely in the large room. 'Give yourself up.'

'No way,' Marcus grinned, his face twisting in strange joy. 'If I can hold you off for ten more minutes I'm out of your jurisdiction.

I glanced at the clock, realizing he was right. Soon enough he would have graduated and we'd be powerless to stop him walking free. Quickening my pace I moved around the corner of the pool, chasing him towards Fillmore. 'Why did you do it?' I asked. 'Why bother wasting your time with this?'

'The challenge. You know what it's like, Ingrid, to be bored. I thought you of all people would understand.'

'There are other things you can do for entertainment.' I watched Fillmore approach Marcus, our paces echoing one another perfectly as we closed in. 'You don't have to break the law.'

'So that's why you sold me out?' Marcus demanded, his attention now solely focused on me. 'I thought you were special. I thought you'd care enough to let me go. Turns out you were just there to track me down, weren't you?'

I didn't reply. I couldn't, not when Fillmore was so close. A few more paces and we could arrest him.

In a flash of movement Marcus lunged for me, his hands outstretched to grab me as he ran. As swiftly as I could I twisted away, wincing as he slipped on a patch of water. He went down hard, and stayed down.

Quickly I grabbed hold of him, subduing him easily as his groaned on the cool tiles that surrounded the pool.

'You all right?' Fillmore asked as he knelt beside me, scowling when Marcus complained about his head. 'I wasn't talking to you. Ingrid, are you okay?'

'I'm fine, Fillmore.'

I stayed quiet as Fillmore got to his feet and radioed the security guards, telling them where we were. Only Marcus' rasping question filled the quiet. 'You never cared for me, did you?'

'I never said that.' I shifted uncomfortably, hoping Fillmore couldn't hear me.

'Then why didn't you warn me? If you gave a damn, why didn't you tell me this was going down tonight?'

'I didn't know, and even if I did I wouldn't have warned you. That's not who I am.' I could feel my temper rising as Marcus continued to look at me, his eyes full of anger. 'What did you expect? Did you think that if you got someone from the Safety Patrol to like you, you wouldn't have to worry about being arrested?'

Marcus didn't answer, but he didn't have to. In a flash of clarity I realized that he'd used me as much as I'd used him. Maybe that wasn't all it was about, but both of us had started off with ulterior motives. Any feelings that had developed in the duration were secondary. In a way it was relieving to know that he was no more broken-hearted than I was, but it didn't stop the tiny spasm of regret for what might have been.

'Answer me this, Miss Third. Could you ever love a thief?' Marcus' lips twisted into a small smile as his eyes flickered to something behind me.

I thought for a moment before giving a shrug. 'Maybe. It would have to be someone remarkable to make me forget about justice.'

'Apparently love can do that to someone.' This time the anger had faded, and the grin he gave me was completely charming as the security guards hurried in to take him away. 'See you in high school, Ingrid.'

His voice was thick with suggestion and I closed my eyes as he walked away, breathing out a sigh before I whispered, 'Not if I see you first.'

When the security guards were finally gone and had taken Marcus with them I sat down at the edge of the pool with a sigh. After a moment's thought I took of my boots and socks before rolling the boring grey pants up to the knee and sinking my feet into the cool blue water.

At first the chill sent goosebumps over me, but gradually I got used to it. With a tiny sigh Fillmore sat down next to me mimicking my movements before he spoke.

'Why didn't you tell me?'

'Tell you what?' I braced myself, knowing that playing dumb would only waste my time. He must have overheard me talking to Marcus.

'That you'd gotten emotionally involved with him?'

I sighed, shooting an irritated glance at my partner, but he was staring at the surface of the water, oblivious to my annoyance. 'Because I didn't think it was relevant.' I must have said it with spite, because Fillmore lifted his head up and raised an eyebrow at me.

'Ingrid, you can't pretend that you believe that. Of course it's relevant. It could interfere with your judgment, and completely ruin our case.' His voice softened a little and he added, 'It also explains why you acted the way you did. It wasn't fake; it was real.'

'So what if it was real? The end result is the same. The bad guy gets justice, and I get to go home.' I knew I was sounding petulant now, and hated myself for it. Fillmore just seemed to be rubbing salt in the wounds, which wasn't helping my attitude.

'Ingrid - I'm sorry for earlier. I thought you'd led him on and hung him out to dry.' Fillmore cleared his throat and scowled at the water again. 'I didn't want to think you were that kind of girl.'

'You know what really bothers me? 'I asked, moving my left foot in an idle circle. 'I thought about it.'

'About what?'

'Letting him go, or tipping him off or something. Does that make me a bad officer?'

'No.'

'Why not?'

'Because you only thought about it, Ingrid. You didn't do it.' He looked at me for a long moment. 'So, am I forgiven?'

I bit my lip, chasing the smile from my face as I faked a thoughtful expression. Viper-quick I reached out and shoved him, hard, laughing as he lost his balance and fell in the pool with a splash. Gasping for breath I wiped tears of mirth from my eyes as he surfaced, standing in the water that only came up to his shoulders.

Grinning evilly he grabbed my ankle.

'Fillmore, what are you - No! No I forgive you! I forgive you!' With a quick yank he dunked me under the water, taking his revenge swiftly and completely.

'You're horrible,' I grumbled, treading water and moving into a slightly more shallow part of the pool.

'Me?' he laughed, sending a splash of water in my direction. 'Oh no. You pushed me in first. You're the horrible one.'

The water-fight escalated quickly, our laughter ringing out across the pool as the strife of the day was forgotten in our moment of playfulness.

Someone cleared their throat, making me turn my head. The tap of high heels on tile made me wince inwardly, and I wondered what the Principal must have been thinking about her two best Safety Patrol officers playing like children in the pool. I glanced over at Fillmore, noticing how his t-shirt was clinging to his shoulders, and knew that my clothes would be just as snug fitting once I got out of the water. I blushed at the thought and crossed my arms self-consciously over my breasts.

Principal Folsom surveyed the two of us, one eyebrow raised as the corner of her mouth quirked into a rare smile. 'You did good,' she said, her strong voice loud in the pool house. 'I wasn't sure even you two could pull this one off. Now, do me one more favor?'

'Yes Ma'am?' Fillmore and I asked in well-practiced unison.

'Dry off and get a lift home. The pool's closed.'

She walked away with a wry chuckle to herself, leaving Fillmore and I to share a grin as we headed for the side and climbed out. Water sluiced off the pair of us as we picked up our socks and shoes, and I spent most of the damp walk back to the Safety Patrol office studiously ignoring Fillmore's tempting appearance, and trying not to think how angry the janitor would be at the trails of water we'd left through the school.

'Fillmore, can you phone Ariella for me?' I asked as we got to the office and opened the door. 'She'll probably give you a ride home, too.'

'Cool.' He caught the towel I threw in his direction before I disappeared into Vallejo's office to dry off and get changed. My wet clothes peeled off easily, leaving me in very damp underwear. For a moment I considered my options, but decided I'd have to stick with the wet underclothes.

Hastily pulling on my black jeans and top I scrubbed at my hair ineffectually, trying not to let my mind wander. There had been nothing but innocent play in my mind when I'd pushed Fillmore in the pool, but seeing him in a wet t-shirt had pushed my mind onto another, more grown-up train of thought.

There were some thoughts I'd made myself swear never to have about Fillmore. In the beginning it had been easier, but now things were more complicated. I pinned the blame on raging hormones, but they were pretty hard to ignore, and it was getting worse all the time.

A gentle tap at Vallejo's office door broke into my reverie, and when I answered Fillmore poked his head around. 'Ariella's on her way. She'll be here in about ten minutes.'

By the time Fillmore and I had collected everything together and got to the school gate Ariella was waiting in her beat up Ford. It was a short drive to Fillmore's house, and I studiously avoided my older sister's glances. She'd notice my wet hair, and the wet towel Fillmore was still carrying. I could practically hear the cogs turning in her head.

When we arrived at Fillmore's the lights were still on, and I thought I heard a faint sigh escape his lips. He hesitated, as he reached for the door handle before casting a grin over his shoulder. 'Hey, Ingrid. Will you be in the park tomorrow?'

'Probably.'

'All right, I'll see you there. Thanks for the lift, Ariella!'

'See you, Fillmore,' we both said in unison, the grin on my face staying even as we pulled away.

As Ariella drove away I checked over my shoulder, waving goodbye as he stepped into the shelter of his home.

Ariella met my eyes in the rear view mirror, a crooked smile on her lips. 'No more Marcus?' she asked innocently, arching an eyebrow.

'Definitely no more Marcus,' I laughed, settling back in my seat. All I had was one long summer, one that would be all the better for sharing it with Fillmore.

End