The Next Generation

THE ANGST ADVENTURES OF JONNY QUEST

"The Next Generation"

by

Debbie Kluge

Race Bannon sat staring at the fire in the family room in the Quest Compound.  Nearby, Benton Quest sat staring hard at a technical journal on some esoteric subject that Race couldn't even begin to understand.  He had been staring at the same page for the last three hours.  Race knew he had a paper due for a conference and that he was supposed to be working on getting it ready for submission.  But he knew something else as well . . . that paper would never be finished.

Suddenly, from the back of the house, he heard the start of a long wailing cry.  He glanced at his watch.  Right on time.  With a sigh he rose from his chair and walked back to Jessie's . . . no, he corrected himself . . . Jonny's room.  He opened the door to the cheerful baby animals wallpaper, mobiles, crib and stuffed toys.  Young Jonny lay on his back yelling at the top of his lungs.  Feeding time again.  That boy couldn't seem to get enough to eat.  And he was wet . . . it figured.

He changed the baby's diaper and picked him up.  The child looked back at him from wide green eyes . . . his daughter's eyes . . . and suddenly the grief was so close and so real it made him physically ill.  And the images were so fresh it was like living through it all over again.

All of the pictures of the wedding were gone now.  Neither of them could stand to look at them.  There was too much joy reflected in them.  It was the same with all the pictures of the two subsequent years.  They had been so happy . . . so much in love . . . their entire life in front of them.  And the day they came home, grinning like smug cats after a successful hunting expedition, and asked he and Benton if they were ready to be grandparents . . .

Jonny wailed again and Race moved wearily to the kitchen where he heated up the baby's formula and carried it back to the family room.  He moved from the large reading chair by the fireplace to the rocking chair near the windows.  Settling the child in his lap he positioned the bottle and started to rock gently.  Young Jonny's tiny hand doubled up into a fist as he sucked on the bottle and stared at his grandfather.

Jessie had been four months pregnant when it happened.  A drunk driver on the coast road.  Jonny had died instantly.  Jessie had lived, barely, but things hadn't been right afterward.  She spent months in the hospital.  The doctors tried to talk her into terminating the pregnancy . . . told her they didn't think she was strong enough to carry to term.  Race had begged her.  But she wouldn't have any part of it.  It was Jonny's child and she would give it life, one way or the other.  Complications arose.  At the last, she knew she wasn't going to live through the delivery.

Two days before the end she had called him into the ICU ward and told him that she knew the child she carried was a boy.  She also told him she was sure she would never see him.  And she made her father promise that he would take the child and raise it just as he had raised she and Jonny.  The child was to be named Jonathan Roger Quest.  He kept trying to tell her it would be fine and she would make it.  But she knew better.  They had the best doctors in the world for her.  But it didn't help.  In the end, she had still bled to death trying to give life to her son.

And Race understood something else too . . . without Jonny, she hadn't really wanted to live anyway.

Benton had steadfastly refused to acknowledge the child.  Wouldn't even hold him.  He held the child responsible for his mother's death.  Race knew Jessie's death had been the final blow.  First his wife, then his son, and finally his daughter-in-law . . . he had loved them so much.  They had all come to Benton later in life and had all been taken away from him too soon.  He had withdrawn and wouldn't allow himself to become attached again.

Race looked down again at the child that was so much a combination of his dead daughter and son-in-law . . . a child that had become nothing more than a reminder of everything they had lost.

Children were supposed to be the joyous continuation of life . . . the next generation.  But now he knew the hard truth . . . they were also an eternal reminder of loss and a never-ending legacy of pain.

THE END

© 1997  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 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.