Hello again! Happy fast updating day! I just couldn't wait to tell you the good news... chapters 1-3 have been rewriten and combined! *jumps around while balloons rain down* Anythewho... I haven't gotten any questions yet. And I'm still waiting...

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Disclaimer: I do not own Club Penguin.

When Jezzie flew back to her body, she was in her old friend the PSA hospital, Jetpack was pacing around in her room, hood up and eyes down. She grumbled something, her tongue in knots, and he was by her side in an instant.

"Jezzie, I need you to wiggle your toes." He said in a rushed, completely serious voice. She peered at him strangely before twitching her foot.

"There, now where is Rookie? Is he safe?" she demanded, and he looked away briefly.

"Jezzie… that rock you were hit by… something in your neck…" he choked out, his deep voice so unlike his normal tone that it made Jezzie's heart stop for a moment in fear. She focused on her feet and alienated the individual bones and tendons, stretching and turning them.

A sob caught in her throat as she pulled on Jetpack's arm, his glasses slipping down his nose as he finally looked at her red, twisted face for the first time since he had paced in the CAT scan room, looking at how the rock had damaged her spinal cord…

"Justin," she sobbed, "Why can't I feel my feet? Justin? JUSTIN!"

He wordlessly stood, stumbling drunkenly out of the room, leaving Jezzie to force her feet to move, her brown eyes fearfully avoiding the folded wheelchair glaring at her from across her bed.

Elsewhere, Rookie awoke.

He couldn't remember the quake, or the aftermath; all he could remember was the pain of having his scalp peppered with glass chips, the pain of his legs that were pinned in place by the metal of a door, and the pain of a metal tube piercing his right arm. There was another pain, in his heart, but he couldn't remember why… perhaps it had something to do with the girl on the ground a few feet away, but he couldn't be sure… the pressure on his head so too much, and the young agent let his head slip to the floor, sleeping away his memories.

Memory gently approached the hospital room with a handful of flowers. He didn't really want to apologize to her, but he couldn't help it. Her all smiles with a strong and bold spirit was like a magnet to him. Besides, as a once-active girl now probably confined to a wheelchair, she needed all the love and flowers she could get. As he waltzed down the hallway, his one earbud not even playing anything (a little-known secret), he met up with a traumatized-looking Jetpack, who looked like he was trying to pull his hair out. Memory was about to ask what his problem was when Jetpack grunted, punching his fist through the drywall. Cradling his bleeding fist, he shouldered past Memory quickly, as if running from his own temper.

Memory whistled to himself slowly. Soon the high-pitched whistle grew to a surprised shriek when Jezzie, her blonde hair chopped off close to her neck and one shoulder bared by the slipping of a hospital gown. She was leaning heavily on the wall, her toes trailing behind her as she yanked herself forward with the help of a titanium railing. Memory was frozen in place to see her up and about, and didn't move when she grabbed his shirt in a sharp-nailed fist. She pulled his face down to hers.

"Where. Is. My. Rookie?" she hissed. He shivered.

"I-I don't know. There's- it's-" she tightened her grip, and he spat out "The Gift Shop's still underground. It's too unstable to get anyone in." she sneered and shoved him, falling down as she did so. From on top of him, she growled and jerked herself up, once again tripping down the hall, yelling for G at the top of her voice.

Memory would not be him now for anything.

Jetpack and all of the senior agents were in the briefing room, a long rectangle with a screen on one end and a large array of screens on all of the walls. Justin Guy was crushing his mug of coffee in one hand while he had a whispered conversation with G about Jezzie's condition and her place at the PSA.

"She's one heck of an agent." Jetpack whispered. "You can't just pull her off."

"It's not up to me, Jetpack." G sighed. "In accordance with the Disable Veterans clause, all we can do is provide her with care in her own home. Not here."

"But it's not her fault." Jetpack argued. "It was mine. All I had to do was push her out of the way a second sooner, but I didn't. I should be barred or penalized or some…" the room was suddenly hushed, so he finished his thought at a lower tone "..thing."

Someone cleared their throat in a way that was very familiar. He whirled around, and the cup dropped from his grip, and he let it. The explosion of a cup shattering was just the sound the room needed, looking down at his pale partner, miraculously on her feet. "Jezzie." He said simply, and hugged her.

She didn't hug him back at first, and then whispered into his neck: "I'm not leaving you anytime soon, you pain in the asterisk." To prove how much she despised him for leaving her alone in the hospital room, she shoved him away. He slipped in his coffee and ended up on his butt on the ground, his hands stained brown and a shard of ceramic dug into his palm but didn't break skin.

G came up and took her elbow. "Agent, I think you should sit down, your head injury may have caused irreversible damage. If you don't get off your feet soon…" she swatted his arm away and turned to face the assembled staring agents.

"I'm not going anywhere until we help out Rookie. Has anyone even been there to scope things out?" Silence. And then an agent in a fedora, Robinson, stepped up.

"Agent, you are emotionally compromised and wounded to boot. For the time being, I move to remove you from active duty, effective immediately." He said clearly, no show of remorse in his old gray eyes. only pity. Jezzie hated pity.

She turned on her unsteady heels and tripped out, angrily as an asterisk with saving people's lives and showing these ignorant agents that there was no such thing as to much emotion on her to-do list. Effective immediately.

Yay! I got to use Robinson again! And make a reference to Jezzie's pity-intolerance. Now, I have a word for all of you non-reviewers out there... you make me sad and dishonor your families. At least you can leave me a single word review. I would even take a completely blank one. If that's possible...

Also, the rest of the story is mapped out, with an end in sight. Along with a sequel... still working on plots and titles, but I'm pretty sure that it will be called Emotion's Creed. Yah I know, Illyria is gettin' fancy with the titles... whatever. Please express your opinions! I live for them!