Debbie Kluge
Dedicated to NotLion 1
Who believes that the best Jonny Quest is
often a dead one.
Jessie Bannon
inserted her key into the front door of the main house at the Quest Compound
and let herself in. It was late and the
house was quiet. Her long gown rustled as she took off her evening coat and
hung it in the closet. She kicked off
her shoes and left them by the front door.
Her feet hurt.
Leaving her
evening bag and other miscellaneous items in the family room, she wandered into
the kitchen and peered into the refrigerator.
She supposed she should eat something.
What with one thing and another, she couldn't remember eating all
day. Not much there, though. After contemplating the empty refrigerator
for a few moments she reached in and pulled out a bottle of white wine. Food was overrated anyway.
She wandered
back into the family room and set the bottle and glass down on the table by the
big reading chair. She pulled the cork
on the bottle and filled the glass.
Setting the bottle on the end table, she crossed the room and picked up
the white box she had set down earlier.
Opening it, she removed the sculpted, bronze plate and carried it across
to the fireplace mantle. She set it in
the stand she had waiting and returned to her chair. She sat there drinking her wine and contemplating the award. Not
bad, Bannon, she thought. Your third Nobel prize in eight years. She refilled her glass and contemplated all
the certificates and awards spread across the wall that framed the
fireplace. Well, she had wanted to be a
world-renowned scientist. She had
worked at it to the exclusion of everything else for a long time. She guessed she had made it. It was too bad her parents hadn't lived to
see it.
She
frowned. She definitely could have done
without running into Francesca Quest at the awards ceremony, though. She still loathed the woman, even after all
these years. All three kids were there,
too. The boy looked so much like
Jonny. He was about ten now . . . about the same age she and Jonny had
been when they first met. How long had
Jonny been dead now? Must be about four
years. At that thought she snatched up
her wine glass, drained it in one long swallow, and filled it again. And Benton?
How long had he been dead? Ten
years? Eleven? She couldn't remember any more. Twenty-five years changes a lot of
things. Twenty-five years since she
first came to live in this house.
She sat
staring at the awards on the wall and drinking her wine for a long time, the
silence surrounding her. All of them were gone now. Even Hadji. She shook her
head, feeling a bit muzzy. And she was
a world-renowned scientist. She had
gotten everything she ever wanted, and achieved every goal she had ever
set. She thought of young Jonny Quest,
Jr. again, with his father's blonde hair and his mother's violet eyes and her
eyes suddenly burned.
She picked up
the bottle and drained the last of it into her glass. She held up the glass and saluted the wall full of awards.
"Here's
to you, Bannon. And all you've
accomplished in this life." She drained the glass and rose unsteadily to
her feet. She turned off the light and
staggered through the echoing silence of her empty house to her cold bed.
Tomorrow was
another day and the next award was still out there to be earned.
THE END
© 1997,
2001 Debbie Kluge
DISCLAIMER: The
Real Adventures of Jonny Quest and all characters, logos, and likenesses
therein, are trademarks of and copyrighted by Hanna-Barbera Productions, Inc.,
and Hanna-Barbera Cartoons, Inc., a Turner company. No copyright infringement
is intended by their use in this story. All other material, copyright 1997,
2001 by Deborah A. Kluge. All rights
reserved. Characters and stories are in
no way affiliated with, approved of or endorsed by Hanna Barbera or Turner
Productions. This is created by a fan for other fans out of love and respect
for the show, and is strictly a non-profit endeavor.
