Disclaimer: I don't own Fillmore! Wish I did though… It would be showing everyday if I did. Disney's crazy and needs to put Fillmore! back on the map.

Read carefully and you might understand the title.

X.x.X.x.X.x

Act I: KILL vs. LIFE

X Middle School refectory:

"Hey Ingrid, this is Fillmore. Do you read me? Over." The static was there but Officer Third could still understand what he was saying.

"That's affirmative. Over."

Fillmore smiled, Of course I can always count on you Ingrid. The curvature of his mouth was soon no more as he saw a shadowy figure cross the cafeteria.

"The suspect is in view and heading towards the southwest double doors," Fillmore called into his two-way radio. "Requesting cover, over and out."

As he made his way across the commons, Ingrid soon joined his side.

"Betcha there's gonna be a chase," Ingrid grinned.

"Your probably right, but I'll take that chance," Fillmore said as they walked as fast as possible without being too inconspicuous. "If you're right, which you almost certainly are, I'll take you to Papa Cracky's sometime for lunch."

"It's a deal."

As soon as they were about to shake on it, a cart full of potted forget-me-nots rushed right towards them. The illustrious duo jumped in opposite directions while each mentally checked if the other was all right. They each nodded their heads, and simultaneously reading each other's minds. The looks in their eyes were: I'm, okay, you? Let's do our thing.

They got up and without bothering to brush off the dust, their feet hit the ground running, brusquely, yet somehow like a hypnotizing dance that they had practiced over and over. They ran down the halls, dodging the various students and clubs.

Just as they were about to apprehend their guy, he ducked into a crowd of paper protesters, ironically holding up signs made of the stuff they were defending. But their name was even more satirical. They were Kids Into Loving Life. Some kids joined it just to avoid doing homework or tests, claiming that to use paper was to desecrate nature.

Fillmore and Ingrid tried to hurry past the group but in vain. They were soon met with a flyer with information about his organization. Ingrid raised her eyebrows as if saying, 'Paper?' The boy who shoved it into her face nearly exploded, and sounded exasperated as he said, "It's NOT made from trees. We would never disrespect nature in that way. It's linen paper. Just because it is paper, does NOT mean that it's made from trees! Why do you tree blasphemers always think that?"

Ingrid just shrugged as she grabbed the handout, knowing that the boy would not let them go if they didn't. They finally got through as they boy called out, "Love life!"

"Where did our guy go?" Fillmore murmured to no one in particular.

Suddenly a blur of grey shot forward from the corner of his eye.

"Stop! Safety Patrol!" Fillmore yelled.

Ingrid shook her head, "They never listen."

"Yeah, but it's standard procedure," he responded.

"Looks like we're headed towards the pottery club," Fillmore noted.

"I'll take the west entrance and you can take the north. Call for back-up, just in case," Ingrid planned audibly to her partner.

"I'm on it."

Ingrid closed her eyes for a few precious seconds so her eyes could adjust to the dark. She took out her flashlight and traced across the room. It was quiet as it was dark. Not a thing stirred.

X.x.X.x.X.x

Why do they always do this? Run away at the sight of a patroller to the darkest and creepiest place they can think of. Fillmore was complaining in his thoughts. Well, this is what I live for. Hope Ingrid is faring better.

His thoughts were soon jarred by the cacophonous sound of ceramic breaking. Lights immediately blinded him as his mind was racing. He recognized an outline of grey as well as Ingrid shielding her eyes. Then he saw something that Ingrid didn't. The outline of grey was holding a misshapen clay jar and was setting up for a throw with Ingrid as his target.

Lights flashed on and Ingrid's green eyes squinted and she raised a hand to them. They soon widened, as an obscure terracotta form was being aimed at her head. The figure was smiling yet he looked as if he was hesitating to throw. "Ingrid!" she automatically turned her head to the familiar voice, which was spiked with trepidation.

Just as she turned her head, the clay jar made contact with her head.

"Noo!" Fillmore cried while running towards the assailant. But he did not react in time. A thud was heard as Ingrid's head collided with the tiled floor as the grey character had gone out through the west exit. To Fillmore, everything was running in slow motion. He kneeled by the fallen Ingrid, who was unconscious either by the jar or hitting her head on the floor, he wasn't sure. He noted that there was red streaking her hair, that wasn't there before and was quickly running down her face. He wondered where his back up was when he had called them. It seemed like it was ages ago when he had done so, but his watch told him it was only a few minutes.

Vallejo, Anza, and Tehama finally appeared with Danny trailing behind. Gasps were heard, and Fillmore told them to hurry up and get help. Tehama ran to the nurse's office, and came back with a stretcher and medics. Fillmore was then forced to relive the whole ordeal and told his colleagues what had just occurred.

Man, it was all my fault. If only I didn't call her. She would have dodged out of the way or something. Or I could have snuck up from behind that guy and then tackle him. I should've done something else, anything besides calling her.

X.x.X.x.X.x

Inside HQ/Glee Club Annex, afternoon:

"Stop beating yourself about it, Fillmore. It wasn't your fault. You need to concentrate on the case, for Ingrid's sake," Vallejo said, trying to console the safety patrol officer.

"Yeah, I know, man. But it's hard. Her not being here doesn't feel right," Fillmore replied miserably.

"Try to get your mind off it. The doc said she'll be back here tomorrow, and all she got was a minor concussion. Besides, there's a time limit for you guys. One is Folsom breathing down our necks and the other is one of the suspects."

Vallejo was right. He was a delinquent, although Safety Patrol could never prove it. His dad was tired of them showing up at their house only to find out that they couldn't prove his son guilty. It was "a waste of his time and harassment to a student. Just because he was convicted once, didn't mean he was a multiple time offender…Next time you kids bother my son and can't prove anything, I sending in a complaint to your Principal Folsom and to the school board about your incompetence."

Vallejo continued, "Let's review this case. There's some kind of double agent in different conflicting clubs. Like in Science Kids Forever and the Hip Crowd. After that fiasco our guy was both in Band-Lovers and Football Players Forever. He or she is passing information about the other clubs, which they use against each other. Now, we're not sure which clubs he's in but we think that Limits In False Establishments is one of them. They don't like kids who start clubs to get away from doing work. There are several organizations against it, and we have no way of limiting the list. We checked the suspects' records to see if they joined anything recently, but there's no match. We think that our guy is using some kind of alias. Our best chance at anything would be to interrogate each suspect."

Fillmore picked up three files and carried on after him, "Suspect one, Rita Wellington. Known for attracting attention to herself. Is in the drama club, and I hear that she's pretty good at performances. Will do anything for publicity. Suspect two, Donny Levine. Caught in card embezzlement. Suspected in later crimes but never caught. Was on baseball team but removed for said offense. Known for being able to talk. Can talk way out of anything and messes with people's heads. Suspect three, Andrew Banner. Delinquent who frequently hires himself out to do other people's dirty work. Claims to be the best hand there is to get anywhere and into anything."

Vallejo gave a low whistle. "Sounds like a tough bunch to handle. Careful Fillmore…"

The bell rang, interrupting the commissioner.

"Okay, be back here tomorrow ASAP. I know that you plan to visit Ingrid after this. Tell her we miss her and hope she gets well soon."

"Will do, sir."

At the hospital, Ariella and Mr. Third are standing next to Ingrid:

Ingrid slowly opened her eyes. She looked around the room.

"What happened? Where am I?" she asked, bewildered.

"Shh. It's going to be okay. You got hurt, but you'll be back home soon," Mr. Third said, trying to soothe his daughter.

"Fillmore's been so worried about you. He's been standing outside blaming himself for what happened. I'll go get him," Ariella offered, opening the door.

Ariella soon returned with a concerned Fillmore, who was holding a get-well card signed by himself, Vallejo, Tehama, Anza, and O'Farrell and flowers just like those in the cart that had nearly bowled them over.

"Fillmore?"

A/N:

Well, do you guys understand the chapter title now?

I'm sorry if anyone's OOC. I also apologize if something doesn't make sense.

I have a couple of clues in the story about what's gonna happen. Try and guess what happened to Ingrid. Please Review.