Because I haven't been able to write what I wanted in time, I settled for this two-shot instead.

Summary: Sometimes, they force themselves to step back from the conflict and reflect.

Warning/Disclaimer: While this is not intended to be a romantic story, some readers may interpret it as such. Either way, I do not own the characters Jet Pack Guy and Rookie; they are both characters from Club Penguin.

Word Count: 1767

Reflections

Whenever Jet felt overwhelmed by his life, he would often find himself taking refuge at the Beacon.

Jet found it peaceful there. The sky above him would slowly blur the midday blues with sunset reds, casting the Lighthouse in a warm light, while cool wind would brush past his face, further putting him at ease. The sky and wind quietly beckoned him to fly with them, to feel free and unchained to the ground below. It was the perfect weather for someone like Jet, but he didn't plan to fly this time.

Instead, Jet unbuckled the clasps of his jet-pack and slid it off his shoulders. With its weight lifted off, Jet felt little guilt in dumping his namesake on the floor before going over to the launching pad in its absence. He pocketed his sunglasses on the way. Plopping down on the metal pad, Jet then gave his shoulders an experimental roll; they gave a loud, uncomfortable creak under his skin, as if protesting his actions. Jet stopped, feeling as though he should perhaps wear his jet-pack less often, and sighed. Bearing such heavy weight could harm his body in the long run. Then again, it was part of his image; he couldn't possibly stop wearing it now.

Feeling his mind inch towards dangerous waters, Jet leaned back onto the railings. He had plenty of time; he could afford spending a few minutes to think. As Jet began to recollect his thoughts, he stared out to the vast ocean and the sky that mirrored it. The peace of this area completely contrasted with the conflict Jet was experiencing inside.

This was where his life truly started, Jet decided. Before becoming an agent, Jet Pack Guy had simply been Guy, a nobody who contributed little to society and had no significance in the grand scheme of things. Jetpack Adventure was the sole reason he woke up each day. It had been everything for Jet: his hobby, his escape, his talent, his distraction, his income, his utter obsession… But then that silly mini-game shifted into a passage to his new life.

His memories were a confusing, muddled blur at that time, but Jet could remember a little of what became the most important event of his existence. The Director had personally scouted him many years ago, finding potential within him just because he could fly and loved doing it; now Jet Pack Guy was a leader for an entire sector of agents. He had trained for many years to reach this point, so he considered this achievement to be his greatest feat. It was perplexing to even think of the past after so long, after experiencing so many changes, after moving on and hardening into someone completely different from that laid-back Guy he once was. Jet would be hard-pressed to say that they were the same. Only two things connected his personas from then and now: his unyielding love for flying… and his lack of a fulfilling social life.

The latter was something Jet preferred to ignore. After disregarding every red flag from countless messages, interviews and even mission simulations, everyone he had met was ultimately disappointed by his personality. They came to believe that he lived and breathed work and nothing else; therefore it was only worthwhile to speak to Jet about missions. This impression slowly spread throughout the agent body until 'workaholic' developed into his sole identity. Usually Jet wouldn't pay any mind to ill-founded notions, because they were nothing more than beliefs; however, this one was true.

Sometimes Jet wondered if he was still living life as he should.

The wind brushed past his face once more, drawing him back to reality. Flying seemed awfully tempting at that moment. Jet slowly stood up. His arm reached out towards his jet-pack, as if sharing his desire to fly away from his problems, but he did not move otherwise. Jet stayed still for a moment, feeling torn between the whispering wind and the quiet side of him wanting to stop being so damn reliant on his jet-pack.

"Figures I'd find you looking majestic here."

Jet dropped his arm and turned towards the sound of Rookie's voice.

The sunset was at its highest intensity now, and its light bathed Rookie in a warm glow as he slowly ascended the staircase. His sunglasses were missing, allowing his eyes to bare his current emotion: an uncharacteristic, morose calm. Jet offhandedly wondered if he looked like a similar image, haloed by bright light, from where Rookie stood.

Jet sat down, facing the ocean once again. Small thumps on the metal floor registered in his ears, becoming louder with each iteration, until the launching pad creaked with new weight; Rookie then sat down next to Jet without a sound. Neither of them spoke, letting the ever-present wind fill the silence instead.

Jet speculated if the atmosphere between them seemed different to Rookie. It surely felt that way to him. There was no cheer or silliness that came from Rookie's natural exuberance, nor did it have any exasperated fondness Jet usually expressed to Rookie's antics. It was tense, awkward and uncomfortable.

Finally, Rookie broke the silence. "I'm sorry for saying those things to you. I was wrong." He paused, as if waiting for Jet to answer, but the reaction didn't come. Rookie turned away from the agent next to him, seeming to be disheartened by Jet's lack of response. His voice wavered as he continued to speak. "It came out of nowhere, a-and I… I was just being irrational and selfish. I had no right to dictate who you are or how you act, especially after knowing you for so long, but I went ahead and complained anyway. It was utterly stupid of me to lose my temper. I didn't think it would cut so deep…" Rookie sighed, shielding his face from Jet's periphery. "… I didn't mean to hurt you like that."

Jet cast his gaze over to Rookie. "Where did you learn all of those big words from?" he asked, completely evading the topic at hand.

He felt slightly disturbed by the other agent's demeanour. This Rookie was different to the happy-go-lucky agent Jet had known; he seemed mature yet tired, more fitting for his long experience as an agent than the persona who never learned or changed. It was bewildering to see this new side of Rookie. Jet wordlessly asked himself if they were the same Rookie, or if one was only facade. He couldn't find an answer.

The agent in question chuckled humourlessly. "I was bound to pick something up after spending so many years with you," Rookie said. He turned away to face the direction opposite to the ocean, allowing silence to reign once again.

Jet bit his lip. His time alone had been long enough for him to think about his disposition, especially because Rookie was the one who brought it up in the first place; Jet might as well voice his final verdict. "You were right," he murmured. Although he was still staring out to the ocean, actively avoiding Rookie's face, Jet could imagine surprise taking over Rookie's expression. He continued speaking before Rookie could interject. "Let's be honest, here. My jet-pack and work ethics are the only notable aspects of mine. If you take those away, you'll just have a well-dressed mannequin." He tugged at the collar of his shirt. "Maybe this is actually a part of my work ethics as well. I don't remember wearing these types of clothing before becoming an agent…"

Rookie grabbed his shoulders. "That's not true, Jet, and you know it," Rookie argued, resolved to defend Jet for his sake.

Jet waved him off. "It's fine, Rookie. That's the truth, so we both have to accept it." He stared at the ground far below their feet sardonically. "I'm the uptight work addict whose sole interest is jet-pack flying. I don't have an active social life, nor do I have other hobbies to waste my time with. I mean, I couldn't even solve the last obstacle in our EPF initiation because I'm too dependent on my jet-pack." Jet laughed at this, but his expression took form of a dejected look. "It's… kind of boring, to be honest."

"Jet." Rookie tightened his grip on Jet's shoulder, catching his attention immediately. "Listen to me. You are more than that, okay? You might seem like that at a glance, but that does not mean it's your entire personality. I told you before that I was wrong, and I was right about that." Rookie released a shaky sigh. "I knew you for a long time, Jet. You may be a hardworking agent and a cool guy, but first and foremost… you're my friend."

Jet stared at Rookie, taken aback by his heartfelt speech. He blinked once, then twice, before covering his face in embarrassment. "When did you become so sappy?" came his muffled response.

Rookie laughed. "Ever since you started brooding."

Jet shook his head. This experience unsettled him in its strangeness; Rookie was acting like a true equal, rather than the awkward inferior he often made himself out to be. Jet took a deep breath and quietly asked, "Were you always like this, Rookie?"

Rookie's smile thinned ever so slightly. "Of course not," he said, "but that's a discussion for another time." Seeing Jet's face fall, Rookie rectified, "We'll have that conversation later, I promise. Just… not now, okay?"

Jet nodded, giving Rookie a reassuring smile.

The two settled into a relaxed silence. Jet took this time to think carefully now that he was at ease, while Rookie seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. Coming to a conclusion, Jet broke the calm. "I've been thinking about what you said earlier." He paused, searching for the right words to say. "I've decided to clear out my schedule for tomorrow after all. A break from work sounds nice."

Something in Rookie's smile seemed to glow. "That's great, Jet," he said.

For the first time since he had stormed out of the headquarters, Jet finally gave Rookie a proper look. The sun had yet to set beyond the ocean, allowing its light cast over the island. The warm, vibrant colours made Rookie appear less weary and more at peace, as though he had not been distraught at all. It was a much better look for the rookie agent.

A small breeze wafted past them; Jet realised that something else about Rookie was different. "Hey…" he began softly, "you're not wearing your propeller cap."

Rookie shrugged, seemingly aloof. "You're not wearing your jet-pack, either," he smiled.