I do not own club Penguin. This chapter feels a bit off, but I just wanted to get it out there for Honeybee4Eva, who wants me to finish this story so desperately :)

When he pulled back, grinning foolishly, Jezzie punched him so hard he soon found himself eagle-spread in the snow.

"What in the name of Mod were you thinking?" she whispered furiously at him. She felt beyond violated. She felt absolutely murderous.

"Well, she didn't see you." A groggy Memory pointed out, getting up painfully from the ground, only to be pushed down again.

"Don't ever touch me again, and maybe you'll live." She muttered to him, and stalked away, back to the HQ. Idiot smug French Memory… she wiped her lips on the back of her hand and began spitting vigorously into the bushes.

Soon she managed to stomp her way into the HQ, shoving aside several other agents to get to G's office. He looked up calmly from his morning newspaper.

"Hello, Jay." He greeted her, ignoring the way she glared and gripped her hands into fists. "Did you find the missing coins?"

Coins? Oh, right, the stuff that she had been doing before she was assaulted. She fished around in her pocket and almost threw the white scrap of paper at the scientist, who continued to completely ignore her obvious anger. He peered at it through his thick glasses for a moment before nodding to himself.

"Good. I'll run some diagnostics on it and get back to you." He dismissed the steaming young woman with instructions to get some down time.

For some reason she ended up in the hospital wing, leaning against the door jamb of Jetpack's room where he looked like he was asleep. Her anger ebbed a bit as Memory's words echoed back at her. His recklessness will be his end… she groaned when she realized where her train of thought was going.

Basically, she was condemning herself as Justin's partner until the day she died. Or she killed him. Or someone else killed him. Or he got hit by a bus.

Yeah. Now she sighed with happiness, imagining a Jetpack Guy-shaped smear on the three o clock bus that she usually took to the pizza parlor.

He shifted in his sleep and she moved inside the room, sitting down in a chair by his side. "Hey, partner." She couldn't help but say out loud.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I mean you." She replied, and a smile twitched onto his lips. "How're you holding up?"

"I'm being forced to sleep for a week." He said bluntly. "How would you feel?"

"I probably would be hitting everyone in sight." She admitted.

The smile was real now as he clacked his wrists up and down, flashing stark white restraints. "Did that already."

Jezzie laughed and the last of her anger drifted away. Jetpack guy opened his eyes finally, and looked evenly at her. She gazed back until he rolled over on his side. No thank you, no happy to see you, no nothing. Jezzie didn't know what she was expecting, but it surely wasn't for one of his tied down hands to point wordlessly at the door.

She stormed out, and felt the overwhelming urge to kick something.

She went to the gym and worked out until sweat poured off of her and Robinson had to have her forced to her room to rest.

She hit the bed and was out like a light.

The next morning she was completely emotionless, calm and collected in what was perhaps her best outfit- nothing was over three years old. She marched down to G's office to give him a piece of her mind about how frustrated she was with the PSA, and about how she wanted nothing more to do with it. She had been strangled, broken bones, fallen off the iceberg, fallen off a MOUNTAIN, and was partnered with the world's most aggravating guy and his French twin, mister ignore other people's personal boundaries.

When she stood before his desk, he looked up. "Oh, Agent, I was just about to call you in." he folded his hands over piles of plans on his desk.

"You see, Memory has requested to trade partners with Jetpack Guy, who turned the decision over to you."

Jezzie's heart flew into her mouth and she subconscious moved her hand up to her throat- an old-time habit for what Mandy had always called her "abandonment sense".

Well, whatever it was, it was rising like a tide over her head, and she lost her breath for a few seconds before a little voice in the back of her mind informed her that she wasn't supposed to care.

Another little voice snapped at it to shut up as it reeled off images of Jetpack Guy strapped to his hospital bed. What would he have done if he had fallen through the ice without anyone? How safe would he be if he was still limping around in the wilderness, his leg broken in two places?

Gah! She wanted to scream and tear her hair out at how much thought she was putting into this. This was all just a paycheck, and yet the very mention of upheaval set her stomach turning.

"If it's up to me…" she drew the word out for as long as possible. "I'll choose Justin."

G arched an eyebrow. "Justin?"

"I mean Jetpack." She corrected herself quickly. "Slip of the tongue."

"Slip of the tongue." G whispered to himself when she had gone off in search of some sanity. "Justin, I believe you're getting soft." He said to the picture of the young boy in red hidden in his desk drawer. G was posing alongside Jetpack's parents, taken just weeks before they went MIA. Justin was happier then, his mouthi n a true smile that G hadn't seen in years.