Well, this is it. This is the final chapter of Secret Agents Wanted. I would like to thank everyone who stuck with me up to this point, and I cannot describe how proud I am to finally stamp 'Completed' on this, my oldest and most popular fanfiction.
Disclaimer: I own nothing save for Jezzie, Robinson, and Memory.
It was six o'clock.
Jezzie was screaming.
Her cries echoed and thrashed around her in the large stone cavern, assaulting her ears and deafening her to any other sound. Eventually her voice cracked and ran out, leaving her alone, throat straining for sounds that would never come, in silence.
Her heart was in her throat as she crawled over on her hands and knees, afraid that if she raised herself up farther she would be a target for Herbert and his weapon which she dimly recognized as a gun.
Robinson was lying eagle-spread on the ground, his breath making rasping noises as it passed through his chest, which burned with three red spots that were spreading over the clean whiteness of his shirt. His fedora had fallen from his head, showing that his silvery hair was actually quite thick. Jezzie is struck by how young he actually is. He couldn't be any older than forty-five.
His lips are moving, but no sound comes.
Jezzie finds his hand and holds it. It is so futile of a gesture, so utterly useless, that it strikes her right to the heart.
"Robinson?" she asked in a small voice.
His gray eyes swivel over to her, and a small smile is on his mouth. Jezzie can barely see it through the haze settling in around her eyes, looking and feeling like tears that refuse to stop.
Over what she recognizes as the sound of her sobbing, Herbert's feet walk away, back to where he had come. His work was done, destroying the computer with all of his precious plans and designs. Now, no one by Jezzie and Robinson knew the truth…
Robinson coughed, and Jezzie saw the red stain of blood in his mouth. "Jay…" he said in a small voice, not by choice but by necessity. "You have to stop them."
Jezzie nodded her head over and over, feeling like a fool for how she can't seem to control the twisting of her heart. She doesn't bother asking Robinson for his phone or any other way of contacting someone who can bring him help. From down here, there could be no good signals, and by the time they were found, he would already be gone.
By now there was barely any white left in his shirt.
He was struggling to speak, again, blood now coating his lips. He was slowly falling apart in Jezzie's arms, losing color and breath. "Jay, please…" he takes in a great big breath to carry out his full, unbroken plea, "Tell my wife she always came first. Tell Mitzi I love her…"
"I will, I will, oh, Mod, Robinson…"
…
"Robinson?"
…
"Robinson!"
…
"Robinson!"
…
"… I'm so sorry…"
Jezzie lays his head down onto the cold stone and is utterly, completely alone.
It is now 6:01.
Jezzie looks at the carnage around her, body, computer and phone. This was too much. This was beyond what she thought was in store for her when she accepted the mission from G.
She had to make it right.
She stood and tried to locate the memory storage component from her phone, and tucked it away in hope that it would still be intact enough to keep some information. She looked longingly at Robinson's body and banished all dreams of taking it with her out of her head, and knew that he would understand her choice.
And yet she couldn't leave him all behind. She needed something to remind herself why she was fighting, what was being risked every second that Herbert went free.
She picked up his fedora from the ground and placed it on her head, letting it sink into the perfect place above her eyebrows. It felt like she had always been meant to wear it; it felt almost natural, like she could easily forget that it was there.
With this final piece falling into place, she felt strong enough to face the outside sunlight and air, turning her face into the direction that would lead her to the cornfields outside of the mine shack.
There wasn't anyone guarding the transmitter, strangely enough, and all it took was a good kick to disarm and disable it. She left it in a slightly smoking heap and headed towards where she hoped the HQ still was.
Everything was pain, for one fraction of a moment.
Since he had turned his head, it wasn't full on in his face, and he was able to clearly see the way the air rippled for a fraction of s second before revealing a small blonde girl in a purple outfit, standing as calm as you please.
She took his hand, and all the pain was gone.
His teeth were vibrating, just as they had earlier when Jezzie had sent the pinch of transportation into his hand, and so he accurately deduced what had happened.
The strange young girl had transported him out, just in time, depositing both of them outside the Sport Shop, the perfect front row seats for the perfect matchstick bonfire.
She didn't get them quite so far away, however, that they were safe from the debris. Flaming bits of wood smolder around them, singing hair and clothes, and the boom is deafening.
Justin closes his eyes and feels the heat of the fire bake his skin like a long-lost friend. Burning inside, somewhere, are the remains of his PSA issue sunglasses.
He feels as though a part of him is burning with them.
Rookie followed along behind G worriedly, always checking over his shoulder to make sure that Herbert or Memory wasn't following evilly behind, laughing manically.
He had found G and the Director quickly enough, once inside the Night Club, and managed to blurt out a nearly cohesive amalgam of events up to that point, glossing over the part where he puked up his sleeping pill in the caverns, and awkwardly mentioning that Jetpack Guy and Jezzie had managed to "hide" from Memory when in the Pizza Parlor, but not going into detail.
Once he got to the part about Jetpack Guy going to diffuse the bomb, G's face drained of color. He jumped up, out of his barstool, and stormed through the crowd of PSA agents without so much as an excuse-me. It was a G that Rookie had never seen, and he followed along, only barely recognizing that the Director slinked off into the back rooms, probably to leave. Well, Rookie didn't care what the Director did. In his mind, everything was the Director's fault for showing up in the first place.
And so he shoved the thoughts of the Director out of his mind and ran to keep up with the quickly fleeing G.
He was nearly by his side when he heard the explosion.
He screams out Jetpack's name before he knows what he's doing, and suddenly he isn't behind G anymore. He is in front of him, running as fast as he can, with G struggling to keep pace, but similarly driven.
Once up at the Ski Village, the first thing they see is Jetpack.
Jezzie is in his arms.
The first thing she notices is the emptiness.
Where the Sports Shop had once stood, hiding the PSA HQ from prying eyes, there is only sky and a pile of smoking wood, bricks, and burning electrical equipment. She must have been too far away to hear the initial explosion.
She breaks into a run; his name is on her lips to scream, when she heaves a sigh of relief, seeing him sitting, completely intact on the ground, outside of the wreckage. His head is in his hands, however, and a strange little blonde woman in a purple outfit is standing over him, looking like she was trying to comfort him. She looks up and a spots Jezzie, and quickly taps Justin's arm, pointing his questioning look across the Ski Town square.
He stands quickly, inhaling sharply at the sight of her, wearing Robinson's fedora, of all things.
Time stretches out between them as they wait and observe, trying to find what they should do.
Then, the space between them breaks.
They rush at each other and embrace, holding each other close in an attempt to feel whether they are alright. Justin's heart is beating through his chest, and she can feel it pounding into her ribcage as she loops her arms around his neck and presses her face into it, not caring how the splinters caught in his shirt prick at her skin or the rough feeling of dried blood against her forehead.
They were safe, and that was all that mattered, for a moment. They were quiet; the only sounds the crackling of burning wood and their heavy, ragged breathing. They had had their fair share—more than their fair share—of near-death scrapes, but never had it seemed so close at hand as when they were apart. And being close was the only remedy for the fear they were feeling,
And so they stood together, arms holding each other tight, for one incredibly calming moment.
And then comes the fresh tears from Jezzie as she explains Robinson and the three bullets that were now in his lifeless chest, her vice cracking and breaking, and Justin's multiple cuts are opened fresh from how he moved into her embrace, and G and Rookie are running up the hill, yelling their names and gasping at the destruction.
As the approach, Jezzie and Justin part, regretting it the minute they separate but making no move towards each other.
G sees Dot, still standing awkwardly to one side, phone in hand, and immediately beelines towards her, looking painfully around at the scattered remains of his inventions and wares. "So…" he said, and adjusted his glasses. "Time to join up, right?"
She nods happily and quickly, and hands over her phone for him to tap codes and numbers into, alerting the entire remaining PSA that the HQ had been destroyed and they were all to be transferred over onto their sister corporation, the EPF.
"The EPF?" Jezzie asked in confusion, walking over with Justin at her side. They barely notice that they are holding hands, still silently assuring themselves that the other is still okay. "What's the EPF?"
G held up the young blonde girl's high-tech phone, which had a symbol different from the PSA's as a background. "The EPF is the underground, elite force for the PSA. They are only known to our administrators, or those who are already a part of it, such as myself."
From next to Jezzie, Justin muttered something that sounded like, "Great, more secrets."
"And me." Everyone looked in surprise at Rookie, who sheepishly pulled out his own high-tech phone. "Private Second Class Tyler Rochefield, Third Agent Brigade. Call sign Rookie," he listed off, and, like a voice code, it unlocked the image of a badge on his phone, which listed out his rank and clearance level, which was close to almost nothing.
Jezzie and Justin each exchanged surprised looks, and, heavily blushing, finally realized that they had been holding hands. They released each other quickly.
"Well," G continued, noting their separation, "I'm going to see if there's anything worth scavenging. You two need to rest, but stay on scene. I'll get you two into a briefing room as soon as we can find what's left of it." They both decided not to wonder about whether he was serious. He walked off across the ruins, searching and occasionally picking up a piece of twisted metal. Dot started chatting her the super-speedy way about EPF regulations to Rookie, who looked like all he wanted was a soft bed and a good night's sleep.
Justin stood off to one side, looking at it all. Jezzie is struck suddenly with her initial impression of him as a loner, someone who enjoyed his own company. Now, seeing him stand aside, she knows better. He is not content. He is lonely, and she can't help by feel that she needs to stands by him. She quickly joined him, a question festering in her mind.
"What happened with you and Memory?" She asked gently, hoping that it was not too soon to ask. "Did he stop you from diffusing the bomb?"
"…I'm not joining."
Jezzie's eyebrows came together beneath the shade of Robinson's fedora. That wasn't the answer that she had asked for, or expected. "What?" she asked.
"I'm not joining the EPF," Justin said. "I need some space from everything right now." His voice betrays how long he had thought and debated about this, and how he hoped, in some twisted, impossible way, for Jezzie's approval.
Jezzie tried to smile up at his battered and beaten face, holding onto the last few remnants of hope that she can find. "It's okay, you don't have to join. I'll still see you around, though, right?" she asked.
He seemed to think it over, looking into her eyes and then over her head, at the chaos that the explosion had left behind. A bright smile lit up his face, perhaps the happiest expression she had ever seen there.
His bright green eyes returned to hers.
"No," he said, placing his lips against her forehead for the briefest of touches before backing away, hands in his pockets. He chuckles wryly. "You won't."
He spins on his heels and walks down the trail in the snow, stretching out his arms to take in the warm sunlight. Jezzie likewise turns to survey the destruction, making plans and plotting tactics that would allow the EPF to keep the island safe against Memory and his army of brainwashed agents, his 'Moderators'.
The distance between them grows as they move farther apart, but something keeps between them, a strange, tangible piece of time that will always be there, connecting them across any space. She feels it, he feels it. They do not deny it.
However, neither looks back to acknowledge it, too busy looking for the bright future ahead.
The End.
And, so, I open the way for a possible sequel.
Thank you all for taking this journey with me.
I feel like I need to explain, though, that when Justin says "You won't," he means that, no, Jezzie will not see him. He will avoid her like the plague. Because if he sees her again... he knows that he would want to join the EPF, to be with her. And, he needs to find himself first. Soul-searching, if you will.
Yours Truly,
Illyria Lives