Author's Notes: College is a bitch, I'm sorry, I've got a lot on my plate right now, but I'm back on track with this fic, I promise, I just – yeah, I'm a mess right now. As is this chapter. But it'll get better/longer/more coherent later, I promise.

Tehama knew.

Tehama was furious. Tehama was short, she wasn't well muscled and she normally had a feather light touch. But fury is an incredible tonic for strength. With one hand, she hauled Sel off to the girl's bathroom, jammed the door and threw Sel against the wall of a stall. It was about then that the bleached-white haired girl realized how deep in she was; she was cornered, she was in the wrong, there was no excusing her actions, and Tehama looked ready to kill.

Time had not been kind to any of Sel's friends at X, but Karen Constanza Tehama had suffered the worst of it. Her blue-black hair was up in two handle bar shaped bundles, with small strands falling to frame her face. Her eyes held none of her usual warmth. There was something off about her that Sel couldn't place until her photographic memory kicked in. Her skin – what was wrong with her skin? Her arms had splotches of bleached white that out-paled Sel Teridu, which was no mean feat. The familiar feeling of fear, that spike of worry she couldn't shake, came back to her. First Danny, now Tehama. What on Earth had been going on while Sel was away?

Tehama pinned Sel to the wall, eyes blazing. "Where. Were. You."

Sel had never before understood what Shakespeare meant by the phrase 'serene fury'. Now she understood in ways she'd really rather not. "My family moved-"

"Where. Were. You," Tehama repeated slowly, watching Sel's face like a hawk. "Where were you when Vallejo got thrown out? Where were you when Danny got shot with a nail gun? Where were you when Fillmore's new partner died?"

"Who?" Sel gasped, eyes wide.

Tehama tilted her head slightly. "He didn't tell you about Lili? Good. You don't deserve to know. Ingrid Third, or Saeryonim, or whatever your damn name is, do you have even the slightest inkling of the kind of shit we're all in right now? Everyone's corrupt, everyone's pissed, crime is off the fucking charts and it. Is. Your. Fault."

The white haired girl froze. Tehama released her death grip on her former friend. Until then, Ingrid hadn't realized the full extent of Tehama's rage. She wanted to back up a few steps if only she could. Unfortunately for her, she was pinned against the wall. She gaped at Tehama, watching the half-Japanese girl as if time had frozen. Everything right is wrong again, Ingrid thought to herself as she watched the other girl shake with rage. Everything bad comes crashing in-

Tehama was in no mood for poetry references. "Once you were gone, we were screwed. Our star team was gone. You killed Fillmore, you know. You may not have taken a knife to him, but you stabbed him in the heart. You hurt him. You hurt Danny. You hurt Vallejo. And you hurt me, but I doubt you've thought about that, huh? You weren't going to come hang out with me even with your new persona on. You didn't write. You didn't even call. A postcard, Ingrid. A note. Even just a Christmas fruit basket. But no, Saeryonim Teridu doesn't have those problems, does she? She just walks out into a brand new life and everything's hunky dory. Those people you left behind, defenseless, hurt and vulnerable? Well, fuck them, right? They don't matter. It doesn't matter what they have to face. Out of sight and out of mind."

Ingrid tried to say something, to whisper it wasn't true. The majo-haired girl clenched her fists so tightly her nails drew blood, and Ingrid went silent as she continued. Each word was a precision strike into her. Each accusation, every insult and every point was like a taser to the spine. If only Tehama had been mad for no reason, if only she was just a whiny friend complaining about a weekend without a call. But she wasn't. This was more serious than that, a string of truths that Ingrid could no longer deny. Tehama was right, painfully right, and Ingrid felt tears well up in her tawny eyes.

"You knew we were a team, and you left us. You knew we needed you but you didn't care. You didn't stop to tell us what was happening. You left us with no time to get a new person, no warning, a big hole in our lives out of the blue. Now you've decided to grace us with your presence once people are dead, lives have been destroyed and everyone's miserable. Well, I've got news for you Ingryonim: I will forgive but I won't forget. I hope you know you've lost my respect. And my trust, for that matter. Maybe if you'd come in here and been yourself and asked us if you could help, I'd let this fly, but I'm the Vice Junior Commissioner now."

"Karen-"

"Tehama," the other girl said, the ice in her voice cutting like a knife. "My friends call me Karen."

"What are you saying?" Ingrid demanded, forgetting all feigned speech patterns and pretenses, all personas and charades. "Please, don't tell me-"

"I'm telling Fillmore, I'm kicking you off the force and I will manage things here. I don't know what zany plan you've concocted – you have to have one, or you wouldn't be here – but I'm going to get Anza and Fillmore and the three of us are going to right what's wrong. You've done enough damage, don't you think?"

Those last words were said with such pain and betrayal that Ingrid broke. Tears formed in her eyes as her knees gave out under her. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, of defenses of her innocence and simultaneous condemnation of herself. Everything was so much, so fast. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. She was supposed to get through this and then tell Fillmore, Tehama wasn't supposed to be so jaded and hurt, Danny wasn't supposed to be dead inside, no this wasn't real this couldn't be real oh dear God oh dear sweet –

She didn't realize she'd been speaking out loud until Tehama hauled her to her feet by grabbing her wrists and pulling. The sunglasses clattered to the floor, revealing amber colored eyes. For a year Tehama had known Ingrid Third and never told anyone her real eye color. It would have been juicy gossip, but Tehama had standards she held to steadfastly. Now the fact that Ingrid Third had been prescribed green color contacts would make for the basis of a long line of evidence against her. There was a mountain of explanation to be done. In the end Fillmore would know the truth, and it would be irrevocable. There could be no going back, no repairing of their relationship after this.

But Tehama was a being of mercy, first and foremost. She studied the hysterical girl in front of her, frowned, sighed, and then released her. "No." Ingrid stared, confused. "No, I won't tell Fillmore. You… you couldn't handle that right now, and neither could he. I'm not like you, Ingrid. I won't destroy people because it's easier for me. Just get your things. Pack up and leave. I never want to see you in my school again. Leave a note for Fillmore, lie like you always do. Tell him that everything's fine, you just need to leave for some generic reason. I'm sure you'll think of something. And then I want you to get out of my city." On her way out the door, Tehama paused, taking in the sobbing, deep breathing, shaking figure she had once called a friend. "You're not strong enough to do this, Ingrid. Just leave, for your own good. It's better this way, without anyone being mad at you or anyone knowing the truth. It'll be easier, on you and on him. I appreciate what you've done, but this isn't your fight."

And she left, ignoring the sobs behind her.

Ingrid had been through a lot in her life.

She'd lost her birth mother, her step mother, her sister, she'd been made fun of, beat up, ostracized, ignored, forced to move constantly, she'd had to leave her friends behind constantly, she was fairly sure she had some form of depression at this point, and now everything she'd tried to do had come crashing down all around her. And she couldn't fight it, couldn't demand to be made part of the Patrol, because Tehama was right. Tehama was always right, and she had lost so much because of Ingrid – it was hard to be angry with a woman who spoke an ever flowing and constant stream of logical truth.

Everything was this giant mess because she'd walked out on them. It was her fault. If she could have changed it, she would have. If only she had the ability to change time she'd do it all over again. She'd never leave, she'd leave with warning, she'd keep in touch, she'd… But there was no use to this train of thought, only more pain. She didn't need any more hysteria. It was just hard not to break when Tehama had shown her the suffering she'd caused. All around her people were struggling to piece their lives back together. People were trying to navigate a world of chaos because she'd decided they could handle it. She should have checked back in, she should have helped, she should have…

The thoughts roared around her like a hurricane. The world was a nightmare, and she the dream eater who had conjured it. Ingryonim. Loving, kind hearted Ingrid and cold, borderline schizophrenic Saeryonim. She had tried to live her life as two people, tried to switch lives. She had wanted so desperately to start over after that awful argument with Fillmore – and oh, didn't that seem petty now? If she'd only known, she'd have called his house so that the phone rang off the hook and emailed him until his inbox could hold no more. If only she'd had some idea what she was really doing at the time.

"What have I done?" she asked the empty stalls. They did not answer. "What in God's name have a I done?"

Leave, Tehama had told her. Leave this to those who know what they're doing. Those with good hearts and good intentions. Good people. Ingrid knew that Tehama was doing her a favor. She was holding back the truth so people wouldn't be hurt by the maelstrom Ingrid had conjured up all around them. She was going to fix this because she had to. Her friends were in danger. Tehama was going to make all this insanity make sense if it took everything within her and in all probability she would make it. She didn't need Ingrid. She didn't need Fillmore, truth be told. She had years of Patrol experience and her other half back. Tehama was going to save the world because the world wasn't about to save itself.

You've done enough damage, don't you think? Truer words had never been spoken by one so fair and just. Literary references aside, the fact remained she had a point. Ingrid's pettiness had gotten them into this mess. Now Gaz and Zim were trapped in this too, two innocent bystanders who were trying to help someone who couldn't be helped. They were trying to fix this mess, add their creativity and intellect to the mix. And for what? So that Ingrid could lead them astray and get them hurt? So that she could fail them like she'd failed everyone else? She appreciated Zim's offer and Gaz's familial love, but they were on the wrong path. If the blind followed the blind, they would all run into a ditch.

Notes. She needed to write notes. She needed to talk to Gaz. Zim would stay because of his mission and the fact that he'd been kicked out of his last school, but Gaz needed to go home and live her normal life. Gaz needed to save herself while she still could. Then Ingrid would have to think of something to tell Fillmore. She would have to figure out something, some kind of lie or deal that would satiate him for the duration of the case. He, Anza and Tehama could go break into buildings, clear the names of innocent people and what not. Ingrid had actually done one thing right by getting Anza here; she should leave before anything got messed up on her account. Notes. She had to write them. She'd just go back to her locker, get her book bag, write something down and leave.

Her legs felt like deadweights under her. She walked in a daze towards her destination, noting the madness around her. The downtrodden faces, the protestors, the arguments. Methinks thine chaos doth proceed thee, indeed. Her footsteps seemed too loud, her world too bright, but she managed to stumble onward. Once she was out the door, she ran desperately to the building her locker was in, navigating the stairs, twists and turns on automatic. She hadn't even noticed the cold rain outside. She didn't notice the heat of the hallways or the way the metal felt cool against her skin. The green paint seemed to glow. The lights that once hummed seemed to roar. Sensation of touch was gone, vision obscured by hair loosed by the rain. She stared at the shadows around her, swearing blood was within them. Had the world always been this vivid? She shook slightly, throwing her coat off her like it was poisonous, smacking the weak point of her locker to force it to pop open. Her books spilled out onto the floor. Notes…

"Sel?"

"Fillmore," she whispered like a prayer, shutting her eyes briefly. "Cornelius."

"You wanna tell me what's going on? Tehama's mad, and she screamed at me, and you didn't come back so then I looked around for you. You're missing your math class – are you crying?"

She turned to him, and he knew. She knew. The white hair was down, not an inch longer than Ingrid's, the same texture and style. Her eyes were the same almond shape, her snub nose was the same soft shape. Her pasty skin was hers and hers alone. She stared at him, knowing she was caught, knowing that he would never forgive her, and shaking like a leaf. I will forgive but I won't forget. I hope you know you've lost my respect. Tehama had said it best, the hate that would soon blossom inside Fillmore. Ingrid – Saeryonim – whatever she was stared at him, tears rolling down her cheeks, dressed in a tank top and baggy pants, looking painfully thin and mutated, a freak of nature, something not entirely human. Fitting, given that she felt like a complete monster.

"I'm sorry," she gasped out before she bolted from the building like a flash of lightning. She vanished into the alleyways and passages of the school's many buildings, fleeing into the stormy night without a trace.

It would be nearly a month before he would see her again.