The late October wind gusted fitfully, sending the fallen leaves dancing around Jessie Bannon's ankles and tossing her hair as she moved easily along the quiet, residential streets. The weather was sunny and cool and she took a moment to just enjoy being back where she belonged. She'd returned to the States about a week ago, having stayed for several days after Hadji's arrival just to reassure herself that things were going smoothly and that neither Hadji nor Kefira were in any further danger. Her diligence was rewarded when, true to her word, Kefira had brought Captain Gupta before Hadji so that the man could express his views on Hadji's choice of a wife.
Jessie shook her head with a smile, remembering that interview. She didn't know if Captain Gupta didn't bother to keep up with the news or just deliberately ignored the fact that Hadji had already announced his decision to abdicate. But whichever it was, Gupta spent twenty minutes making an impassioned speech about the long and illustrious history of Bangalore, the sanctity of the Sultancy, and the need to keep the age-old traditions in their pure form in order to "maintain their national heritage". The man probably would have been all right if he'd kept to that theme. However, at the end, he used that point to launch into a litany of all of the traditions Kefira had violated and why that made her unfit to be the wife of Bangalore's Sultan. To Hadji's credit, he didn't order the man dragged off in chains, but there was little question that by the time Gupta was finished, his Sultan was furious. In a cold, rigidly controlled voice, he told the man that he appreciated his willingness to express his views, but that since the Sultancy was being disbanded, his point was moot. Gupta stood there, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, until the palace guards stepped forward and removed him. Later that day, Jessie heard that his rank had been stripped, not by Hadji, but by the senior commander of the Sipahi, and that he had been given the choice to either leave the service or be reassigned as a mere foot soldier. When Gupta chose to take the reassignment, the senior commander had placed him at a border guard station in the high mountains of Panjal Province. Jessie doubted he'd end up causing a problem up there.
The next morning, she had approached Hadji and Kefira and told them it was time for her to go home. She could tell that neither of them wanted her to leave, but that both had expected it. She had returned through Portland, wanting to see her new baby sister. As luck would have it, she ran into her parents at the hospital. Her mother had hugged her and then alternated between laughing, crying, and shaking her, all the while telling her that if she ever did anything like this again, she would permanently disown her. Jessie openly grinned at that memory, causing the man passing her on the street to look at her very strangely. Like that would ever happen, she thought happily.
Her smile disappeared and she bit her lip as she remembered her reunion with her father, however. He had hugged her tightly and for a long time, he wouldn't release her. When he finally loosened his grip, it was only enough to lean back so that he could look at her. He had searched her face for a long time and then, in the quietest voice she had ever heard from him, he asked, "How are you, Ponchita?" It had just about been her undoing. Through all of the fear, anger, pain, torment, misery, anguish, and horror, she had held firm, doing what she had to do to ensure Kefira's safety and the long-term welfare of the people of Bangalore. In the peace and quiet of her room in the palace while she awaited Hadji's return, she thought she had finally come to terms with the things she had seen and done. But at her father's simple question and the knowing look in his eyes, it had all slammed into her again like a freight train. She'd gasped, tears filling her eyes, and had begun to shake. Race had pulled her into a tight embrace once again, pressing her face into his shoulder and stroking her hair as he whispered over and over, "It's all right, baby. I promise . . . it will be all right." She'd fought against the breakdown and eventually she'd managed to get herself back under control again. She'd stepped away from him, wiping her face with her arm and conjuring up some semblance of a smile. She'd insisted that she was all right, and although she could tell he didn't believe her, he finally let the subject drop.
They'd visited the neonatal intensive care unit where she'd stood in awe and watched the tiny child that carried the same blood as she did. Emily had been asleep when they first arrived, but while they were there she had woken up, and Jessie was astonished that such a small little person could make so much noise. Both Race and Estella were allowed to hold her briefly and Jessie got the feeling that Emily recognized them. She would have loved to have held her, too, but the medical staff were still being very cautious and suggested that maybe next time she visited it might be possible. Jessie understood, but still regretted not being able to bond more fully with her new sibling.
As they left the hospital, Race tried to convince her to return to Quest Compound with them. He even offered to fly her to Boston the next morning. But Jessie adamantly refused, saying that she had been away too long and that she wanted to go home to Jon. In the same quiet tone he had used earlier, Race told her that Benton was seriously distressed about what had happened and wanted to talk with her about it. She met his eyes steadily and refused again. What he saw in her gaze, she wasn't entirely certain, but a look of infinite sadness darkened his eyes.
"It wasn't his fault, Ponchita. You have to know that by now."
"I know," she replied, but even to herself, the response sounded unconvinced. He stared at her for a long time and then sighed in defeat.
"Don't hate him, Jessica. He doesn't deserve it." When she didn't reply, he shook his head sadly. "Talk to Jonny," he told her finally. "Let his feelings on the matter be your guide. All right?"
"I'll talk to him," she agreed and with final hugs and kisses all around, she'd left Maine and headed for home.
She'd gotten into Boston around two in the afternoon and rather than going straight home, she swung by Blackman Communications. It was almost as if she was expected because the instant she gave the security guard in the lobby her name, he cleared her through and sent her on her way. She entered the I.S. department and the first person she spotted was Blake. A grin of unholy glee split his face at the sight of her, and he immediately yelled for Jonny, telling him he had a visitor. The minute he appeared at the far end of the room, she seemed to turn into a particularly dull plant, going mute and becoming rooted to the spot. He froze, seemingly as immobile as she, and they stared at each other down the length of the long room. From far away, she had heard someone snicker . . . probably Blake . . . and then Jonny dropped everything in his hands and crossed to her at a run. He caught her in his arms and kissed her like there was no tomorrow, regardless of the audience. She knew she melted into him like warm butter. Everything from then on was a kalidescope of blurred sounds and images, all overlaid by the sound of his voice in her ear, the feel of his body against hers, and the final, deep conviction that she was, indeed, home. She'd managed not to cry . . . she remembered that much. She also remembered Stan telling Jonny he was done for the day and to take her home. Oh yeah, and she also remembered the wolf whistles and cat calls . . . not that either one of them had really cared.
And now, slowly but surely, things were beginning to return to normal. With the help of Dr. Sikes and Mr. Blackman, she managed to get back into the good graces of the university administration and most of her professors following her precipitous and unexplained disappearance. She was drastically behind in all of her classes, but was determined to catch up and complete the term on time. All of her energy was devoted to that task, but it worked out because Jonny was back to spending 16 to 18 hours a day at the office. A smile flitted across her face, thinking of the feeling of contentment that had exuded from him ever since she returned from Bangalore. He might be working until he was ready to drop, but he was happy doing it and that was all that mattered.
She had one final task left to complete and then the Bangalore incident would truly be history. Looking both ways, she crossed the street at mid-block and entered the bank. Speaking pleasantly to the teller, she presented the woman with a key to a safety deposit box and then followed her into the deposit box vault. Once the woman had pulled the box, set it on a table, and left again, Jessie shrugged out of her backpack and flipped open the box. It was filled with an assortment of papers, documents, and other odds and ends. They were grouped into packets, and each set was carefully sealed in plastic pouches. Opening her backpack, she pulled out a cloth bag and dumped the contents out onto the table. Checking each item carefully, she dropped the credit cards, driver's license, passport, and other forms of identification back into the waiting plastic pouch. She checked her wallet, purse, and backpack to make certain she had everything and then carefully sealed Monica Leveck away once more. As she dropped the pouch back into the safety deposit box, she found herself fervently hoping that there would never again be a need for the woman to reappear.
Jessie started to close the safety deposit box again, but then paused. Slowly, she turned to her backpack and rummaged inside it once more. Finding what she wanted, she drew the item out and stared at it thoughtfully. A garbage can stood nearby and for a moment she contemplated throwing it in there and just being done with it. Finally, almost against her own will, she threw the answering machine tape into the safety deposit box, closed it firmly, and slid the box back into it's proper place in the vault.
Time will tell, she thought to herself, and then she closed and locked the box door and walked away.
"So is he down?"
"Yes," Race replied as he sank into the chair with a sigh. "You know, I don't know which is worse - Vassey clinging to me so desperately that he wouldn't go to bed if he had to be in another room, or Vassey refusing to go to bed simply because five-year-olds don't want to go to bed at a reasonable hour. But whichever one it is, I'm going to be really grateful when he grows out of it!"
Benton chuckled and then looked pointedly at Maia who lay sprawled on the floor near his feet reading a book. "And speaking of bed, don't you think it's time you were also there, young lady?"
She looked up at him with a pleading expression. "Do I have to? I wished to finish this tonight."
Benton leaned forward, checking the remaining pages and then shook his head. "I don't think so. It's a school night, and you still have too far to go. You're at the end of a chapter, which is a good stopping place. Go on and get ready for bed. I'll be up in a few minutes to tuck you in."
Maia gave a martyred sigh, but rose obediently and left the room.
"I don't ever remember it being that easy with Jonny," Race said with a grin, once they heard her footsteps in the upstairs hall.
"It never was. I'm just glad they both seem to have settled in so well."
"So am I. I think Hadji's decision to let them stay here rather than taking them back to Bangalore with him was a good one. Putting them back into that environment wouldn't have been a wise idea. And they really aren't any trouble."
"No, they aren't," Benton agreed. "Mrs. Evans even commented to me today that she might start taking a bit of time off because Maia's so diligent about picking up and cleaning that she's running out of things to do!"
Race laughed. "Give her time to get more involved in school and I bet that'll stop."
"So do I. And once little Emily gets here, she'll have other things to keep her occupied. She told me this evening that she can hardly wait. And speaking of that, what did Dr. Eftekari have to say today?"
"The first of the month," Race said happily and then jumped up to stir the fire and add another log to the grate. "The doctors say her lungs are almost fully formed now and there's no sign of congestion at all. She's also nursing willingly and barring any unforeseen complications, they'll let us bring her home the week after next."
"That's wonderful!" Benton said with a big grin. "It will be so good to finally have her home where she belongs."
Race's smile disappeared as he sat back down in the chair and looked at Benton seriously. "Are you sure you don't mind, Benton? It's an awful lot to ask of you, bringing a baby into the house again after we'd no more than gotten the first batch grown and out the door."
Benton laughed. "Of course I don't mind! I'm looking forward to it. With the boys gone, this place has seemed a bit like a tomb. It will be good to have it filled with children again."
"I'm not entirely sure Emily will exactly 'fill' it," Race replied dryly.
"You weren't around much when Jessie was a baby, were you?"
"Well, no . . ."
"Trust me, she'll fill it. I promise you."
Estella entered in the midst of their companionable laughter. "What's so funny?" she asked, taking a seat at the computer station near the door. "IRIS, load my artifact index, please."
"ACKNOWLEDGED. LOADING."
"We were talking about bringing Emily home," Benton replied. He grinned again. "And the soon-to-ensue chaos."
Estella looked a little worried. "You know, Benton, it's a lot to ask of you -"
"Would the two of you stop it? You're getting as bad as Jonny. 'Sorry' seems to be the most common word out of his mouth these days. This is ridiculous. If anyone should be apologizing, it ought to be me. I'm the one who made a total ass of himself."
"No you didn't," Estella protested. She backpedaled a bit under his amused stare. "Well okay, so maybe you were a bit difficult at times, but you had a good excuse." Benton just snorted.
"Do you remember any of it?" Race asked him.
The older man shrugged. "Some of it. It's coming back slowly, mainly in fits and starts. It seems to require a trigger, but it's tripped, the memories just sort of sweep over me. It's a little bit like being caught in a motion picture theater with the film running at triple time. It will flash across my mind's eye, and when I try to figure out what just happened, the memories will just be there . . . as if they always were and I simply hadn't thought about them recently."
"It sounds confusing," Estella said sympathetically.
"No, not so much confusing as it is disconcerting. Everything is crystal clear right up to the time Darcy's people put the chip on me. From there, everything is fragmented . . . there are big holes in my existence. And do you have any idea how hard it is to place a past event in context when you don't have the memories of the events leading up to or after it?" Benton shook his head. "It feels like someone put all of my memories onto a deck of playing cards, shuffled them and tossed them onto a table in random order. Some are face up and I can see them, but the ones that are face down are still non-existent to me. And every so often, some unseen player turns a new card face up and there it is. I suspect it's going to take me a while to sort it all out again."
"But Barbara thinks all of the memories will come back in time?" Race asked.
"She thinks it's likely. I've already got some things back that occurred when I was under the direct influence of the chip or its after effects. If those memories have come back, she sees no reason why the others won't return in time."
"Are all of the memories you've gotten back from that time period?"
"No. Some of them are quite recent. For example, I remember that last conversation with Jonny and Jessie." The silence that followed that statement was pained. After a moment, Benton shrugged. "To be fair, I probably triggered it myself since I pushed so hard to find out why Jonny reacted defensively to certain things I said."
"Have you talked to her yet?" Estella asked tentatively.
Benton shook his head. "No. She's still avoiding me."
"I'll talk to her again, Benton. There's no reason -"
"No, Race, leave her alone. She needs time, and I'm willing to give it to her. I owe her a great deal for the way she reacted to the entire situation. All of you have told me that she fought as hard as anyone to keep the situation between Jonny and I from becoming irreparable. But when the break came, she aligned herself with my son and defended him like a wildcat, and for that, I'll be eternally grateful." Benton sighed and laid his head back against the chair. "'The dumb one.' My God, how is it that I never realized he was developing that perception of himself? The signs were there, if I'd just paid closer attention." He rubbed his eyes and then smiled painfully. "Maybe something good has come out of this after all. I've talked to several people who know Garrett Blackman and they all say that he's the perfect man to mentor someone like Jonny. He'll probably be able to get my son to do things that I don't even dare bring up."
"I was certainly impressed with him," Estella agreed.
"And the way he went into Bangalore after the four of them?" Race added. "Paul says that Garrett came to him with the idea of going in as a weapon's dealer, and that if Paul hadn't agreed to help, Garrett was going to go in anyway."
"I take it Paul was the one who brought Jade in?" Estella asked.
"No, Jade was already in Delhi. She made it back after dropping Jessie and Kefira, but just barely. She ended up setting the plane down about 25 miles outside of the city, totally out of fuel. She got wind of Paul's return to India . . . God knows how . . . tracked him down, and dealt herself in on the play. I'm still in shock over that one."
"Jade's always had a soft spot for our kids," Benton commented.
"The soft spot of a woman who hoped to be a step-mother?" Estella murmured softly to herself, but the two men heard her.
"What?" Benton exclaimed, staring at her in astonishment while Race sighed.
"Stel, I've told you . . . that was one of Jade's little fabrications . . . a way to diffuse Jessie's antagonism the first time they met. There was no truth to it."
"So you've said," Estella replied, but privately, she added to herself, It may not have been real for you, my love, but I think it was pretty real for Jade.
The three of them sat quietly for a while, tied up in their own thoughts and activities. Finally, Benton ventured hesitantly, "Have you talked to Barbara recently, Estella?"
"Hmmm?" she replied vaguely. "What?"
"Barbara. Have you talked to her recently?"
Refocusing her attention on Benton, she said, "Well, I ran into her the day before yesterday. Why?"
"I was just wondering." He shrugged and shifted uncomfortably.
She tilted her head and eyed him curiously. "Something's bothering you. What is it?"
"I don't know. I just get the impression that she's avoiding me. Did I do something stupid with her, too?"
"Not that I know of. What makes you think she's avoiding you?"
"I don't know," he repeated. "It just seems like she's uncomfortable around me for some reason. And I called her yesterday to find out if she'd like to go to dinner. I got her machine and left a message but she's never called me back. I'd hate to think I'd done something that has undermined our friendship."
Estella shot a veiled look at her husband, who responded with an almost imperceptible shake of his head. "Well, I don't know about being uncomfortable around you," Estella replied smoothly, "but I can tell you why she hasn't called back about dinner. She's out of town."
"I hadn't heard that," Race said in surprise. "Where'd she go?"
"AMA convention. I was driving by her house on the way back from the grocery store and saw her loading luggage into her car, so I stopped. She was complaining that she really hated these formal medical conventions, but that she no choice but to attend this one. Her license is up for renewal and she needs the continuing education credit. I don't think she's due to be back until the middle of next week."
"Oh, that explains it then," Benton replied, sounding relieved.
"Personally, I think it's a good thing she had to go," Race commented. "She and Hadji worked day and night those last two weeks, and she was about ready to drop by the time it was over. And you know the kind of office hours she keeps. The only way she's going to get any rest is if she gets away from here."
"You're right about that," Estella agreed.
"Do you know where she went?" Benton asked.
"I have no idea. She didn't say. But I bet that wherever she is, she's having a good time."
Barbara stopped and stared at the sign. "Whale Overlook" it declared firmly and pointed to a dirt trail that wandered off across the headland to the south. A sudden gust of wind buffeted her, and she staggered slightly at the force of it. As the wind whipped her hair around her face and the brilliant sunshine caused her to squint against its diamond glint on the water, she turned to contemplate the nearby structure. With its crowning light, whitewashed walls, and picket fence, the lighthouse reminded her sharply of home and the reason she was so far from there. Another gust of wind slammed into her, and briefly she considered joining the others in the lee of the building. But then she changed her mind, preferring her own company to that of her companions. Turning her back on Old Point Loma Lighthouse, she followed a narrow path lined with buckwheat, sage and yucca until she reached another marked trail. About 15 feet from where she came out onto the trail was another sign. This one was emblazoned with the legend "Bayside Trail". Without thought, she turned onto it and headed away from the lighthouse. As she trudged along, she gazed at the glorious panorama of San Diego Bay, Coronado Island, and the Pacific Ocean. Below this high headland, boats plied the waters, the city spread out invitingly along the shore, and in the distance, the Cuyamaca Mountains framed the entire area. But the beauty of the scenery was lost on her. Instead, she was looking inward, knowing that it was time to face head-on the subject that had plagued her relentlessly for the last two weeks.
When Benton Quest had opened his eyes and spoken to his son, her first reaction was to cry. That impulse was followed quickly by tunnel vision, a flush of heat, and the certainty that she was going to faint. Somehow, she'd managed to stave off the encroaching darkness and gotten herself in hand. Luckily, everyone's attention was focused on Benton and no one noticed her total lapse of professionalism. When she stepped back in to take charge of his care once more, she was under control and acted like her usual self. She thought she had managed to pull it off, but as she found out later, Estella Velasquez-Bannon was no fool.
Over his protests, they carried Benton back to his room on the stretcher and made him rest while she did a thorough physical. When she'd been unable to find anything remotely wrong with him, he insisted on getting up again, and she was left with no choice but to let him. They managed to limit him to sitting in a chair in the family room for a couple of hours while they explained everything that had transpired, but eventually he grew restless again. At that point, Jonny suggested that they go back out to the lab and have IRIS run a scan to see if there was any sign of Smallwood's brainwave alteration, so they all trudged back out to the lighthouse, with Benton leading the way.
It was while the men were all concentrating on that activity, that Estella drew her to one side and gave her a long, hard inspection. "What are you going to do?" she finally demanded in a low voice.
"Do?" Barbara asked, confused.
"About the way you feel about him. Are you finally going to wise up and tell him?"
"Now, Estella, you know we're just -"
"There's no point in lying about it," she said sternly. "You love him and you need to tell him so."
"Now? I - I c-c-can't," she stuttered, startled into an oblique omission she probably wouldn't have made under other circumstances.
"Of course you can! He has the right to know."
"Estella, he doesn't even remember what happened to him during the last six months! He doesn't need to be hit with something like that, too. Just leave it, okay?"
She shook her head unhappily, but relented. "All right. But you need to think about it before it becomes any more obvious than it is now."
"Obvious? What do mean, obvious? Are you telling me that he knows?"
"Oh, Benton has no idea. Jonny has always claimed that when it comes to women, his father is totally clueless, and he's absolutely right. The rest of us already knew."
"How did Jonny and Hadji find out, anyway? They aren't even around that much!"
Estella grinned at her. "Those two are head-over-heels themselves. They recognize the vibes." Then her smile dimmed. "Barbara, the two of you are a good match, and I really believes that Benton needs you. Don't let fear cost you something you want so much."
On top of everything else, that was just more than Barbara could deal with. As soon as they confirmed that there was no sign of Smallwood's tampering, she had given Benton a stern lecture about taking it easy and going slowly and then she had fled.
For the next several days, it was all she could do to get up in the morning and drag herself into the office. Somehow, she managed to function throughout the day, but she went home at night to collapse onto her bed in exhaustion. Several times, she'd immediately fallen asleep and hadn't woken up again until her alarm went off the next morning. By the end of that week, even Kathy, her office nurse, was showing signs of concern, saying that Barbara appeared to be losing weight. It had been that comment that finally shook her into taking a good, hard look at herself. And what she saw terrified her.
Estella had been right. She loved him. Any possibility of lying to herself about her feelings for him had ended that lonely, dark night in his room as she was finally forced to accept that he was going to die. When Jonny managed to find a way to save him after all, she was left adrift. The feelings that had finally overwhelmed her were intense and almost uncontrollable and yet, the idea of admitting them to him when she had no idea if he felt the same was just more than she could do. So she had done her best to avoid him, praying that her emotional upheaval would stabilize. But he kept seeking her out, first for her medical opinion on his memory loss, then to thank her for her care of him and his family, and finally just as a friend and someone he could talk to. Every time she was beginning to feel like her world was steadying, he would appear again and her small corner of peace would shatter once more.
It wasn't his fault. She knew it. It was her. Finally, she decided that she had to get away . . . give herself some space . . . so that she could rebuild the walls around her heart and take the time to decide what she was going to do. So she called the temp service again, got the visiting physicians back, and fled to the medical convention in San Diego.
And here you are, she told herself as she plodded along against the wind. You've been here for four days, and during that time you've studiously avoided thinking about Benton Quest. How much longer are you going to keep this up? Or do you plan to just pull up roots and run from this for the rest of your life? She honestly didn't know what to do . . . all she did know for certain was that she couldn't go home until she figured it out.
"There is still some disagreement on the subdivision of the provinces into voting districts, but the various factions are much closer to an agreement than they were at the first of the week. I hope that by Saturday, we will have a workable compromise."
Hadji nodded in satisfaction as he skillfully dodged another pothole, bringing the big black sedan back onto the road surface from the shoulder without apparent effort. "You are an outstanding negotiator, Mr. Patel. I knew you could find a middle ground that would satisfy all parties."
Vijay grimaced. "Yes, well, it has not been easy."
Hadji laughed. "It never is," he agreed.
Vijay glanced at the young man beside him and then said tentatively, "I do wish you would reconsider, Excellency. The people all wish for you to run for the presidency, and your election would serve to solidify the new government."
"Yes, Excellency," Mahavir added, leaning forward from the back seat. "There are still those who are uncomfortable with the idea of the Sultancy being disbanded. Were you to serve as president for the first term, it would give people the chance to adjust to the idea and become more comfortable with the process."
Hadji grinned. "I said you are an outstanding negotiator, Mr. Patel, however you are not that good. We have discussed this before. Neither my wife nor I will run for the presidency. It is important that the new president and the members of the governing bodies be elected on the basis of those best suited for their roles. This would not happen if either Kefira or I were to step in and try to run. You know as well as I do that we would win anything we ran for, regardless of our qualifications, and that is not how the process is supposed to work. No, the best thing for us to do is exactly what we are doing . . . help to set up the system, aid in the initial transition, and then bow out gracefully and allow the people of this country to govern themselves."
"And you are still determined to leave Bangalore permanently?"
Hadji nodded. "Yes. My mother was right. We do not belong here. Too many years had passed between the time Pasha took me from the palace and the time I re-discovered my birthright. I changed, Mr. Patel, in ways even I could not understand. A wise man does not deny who he is just as a tiger does not try to eat soup."
Vijay did a double-take. "What?"
That caused Hadji to laugh again. "You looked just like my brother. Think about it, Mr. Patel. Given some time, I am sure it will make sense to you." Flipping down the visor, he glanced in the mirror at the fourth occupant of the vehicle. "You are very quiet, beloved. Is something concerning you?" Kefira didn't respond, continuing to stare out the window blindly while she chewed absently on her thumb.
Tentatively, Mahavir reached out and touched her arm lightly. "Excellency?"
She started violently. "What?" Her eyes met Hadji's concerned gaze in the mirror.
"I asked if you are all right. You are extremely quiet."
She gave him a half-hearted smile. "No, I am fine. I was just watching the scenery."
"Would you like to stop for a moment and look around? We have the time."
"No, that is -" She stopped, turning to look out the window again. "On second thought, yes, I believe I would." Her eyes met his in the mirror once more. "We are not far from our destination now. Would you mind if we were to ask Mr. Patel and his nephew to go on from here and we could walk? It should not take more than fifteen minutes to get there from here."
"Of course. That idea appeals to me, as well."
Over Vijay and Mahavir's protests, Hadji pulled over to one side of the road and got out of the car. Opening the back door, he offered his hand to his wife and she quickly joined him. For an instant, as they stood facing each other in the morning sunshine, time seemed to stand still and for the first time since the conflict began, they both experienced a brief moment of contentment. Then Hadji smiled and turned back to the two men, who had scrambled out of the car after the couple.
"Mr. Patel, you go on ahead with the car. We will join you shortly."
"But . . . but Sire! You are expected and should not be late." Then, gesturing at the their formal attire, he added, "Furthermore, you are not dressed to be walking this countryside."
"It will not be the first time," Hadji assured him.
Vijay tried again. "Excellency, this is wild country. It is not wise for you to be wandering around alone!"
Hadji smiled with good-natured patience. "Mr. Patel, this is my wife's land. She knows it better than anyone. I believe we will be safe enough. There is no need for you to worry."
"At the very least, Excellency, you must take this!" Mahavir exclaimed, holding out a pistol.
Hadji stepped back, a frown forming on his face. "Why do you have that?" he demanded. "There is no need for guns any longer!"
Before either Vijay or Mahavir could answer, Kefira stepped forward and laid a hand on Mahavir's arm. "It is all right." She smiled slightly. "I am my father's daughter, after all. We will be fine. Please, go on and we will join you soon." Turning, she gestured to Hadji. "We will go this way, beloved." Hadji waved cheerfully to the Patels and then the two young people disappeared into the rugged countryside.
Vijay sat, staring at the empty land for a long minute and then sighed. "How is it that we ended up with the job of trying to protect those two, nephew? What god did we offend?"
Mahavir chuckled. "It must be karma, uncle. And as the Sultan's brother is fond of saying, we are earning a mountain of points for our next life." He gestured to the car. "Do you wish to drive, or shall I?"
Not far away, but out of sight of the two men, Hadji and Kefira stood listening until the sound of the car faded into the distance. Then with a relieved sigh, Hadji turned and smiled at his wife. "Alone at last," he joked.
She smiled at him tolerantly and then gestured to her right. "We will go this way." For a time, the two moved in silence, angling across an uphill slope. It was wild, empty country filled with intermittent scrub, rocks, and the remnants of annual plants that were now shriveled and browned from the first freezes in the high mountain valleys. The light breeze that blew down off of the surrounding peaks was chill, carrying the taste snow, but the sun was still warm and neither of them was uncomfortable.
"It is very beautiful here," Hadji said to her after a time.
Her expression was sad as she paused, looking around. "My father loved this land. He was born here and knew every rock, plant, and creature in it. All of us used to walk its valleys with him, listening to his stories of the history of our family and the legends that are part of our heritage. She bowed her head and said painfully, "It is not right that he should be dead . . . for no better reason than another man's greed."
"No, it is not right." He reached out and gently cupped her cheek, turning her head so she had to look at him. "Answer me honestly, Kefira. Would you prefer to live here rather than returning to the United States?"
Kefira scanned the countryside again, allowing the memories of her earlier life to fully surface for the first time since learning of the murder of her parents. Like a rising tide, they engulfed her, their images in her mind as crystal clear as if they had happened earlier that day. The grief, held back out of necessity through days of fear, frustration, fighting, and the first stages of healing, finally couldn't be suppressed any longer. She buried her face in her hands and began to cry in deep, wracking sobs. Hadji gathered her into his arms, pressing her face into his chest, and allowed the grief to rage just as his father had held him and allowed his grief over his mother's death to spend itself.
Finally, when the storm had passed, Hadji caught her chin and tilted her head back to he could meet her eyes. "We will stay here, if that is what you wish. There are ways that I can continue to work with my father from here. We can rebuild your home and you can run your family's mines . . ."
Gently, she withdrew from his embrace and turned to look around her once more. The land hadn't changed. It was still filled with the wild beauty she had always known. But as she turned slowly, allowing her gaze to sweep the panorama, she realized that for all that she loved this place, it was no longer enough. Just as Benton Quest had done for Hadji so many years before, Hadji had now shown her a bigger world . . . a world where she could learn and grow and make a difference. Her roots were here, as they always would be, but it was not where she belonged any more.
There was an aura of acceptance and peace about her as she turned back to him. "No," she said with quiet conviction, "this is not our place any longer. It is more fitting that the site of my parents' home becomes a national monument dedicated to the memory of their fight for the rights of our people, and that the lands once held by my family be turned over to the people who have worked them for generations." She gazed up into his eyes, her love for him a living thing he could both see and feel. "We will do what must be done here in the coming months. And when we are finished . . . then, husband, we will do as our hearts and tradition dictate . . . we will return to the home of our father and build our own life there."
He gazed down at her for a long moment, too choked up to respond. Finally, he reached out and caressed her cheek lovingly. "I love you very much, Kefira Singh," he whispered.
"And I, you, husband."
He leaned down and kissed her deeply, and then in silent accord, they turned and walked hand-in-hand into the countryside.
It was 7:30 p.m. on the evening before Halloween when Jonny ran his company I.D. card through the swipe reader on the employee access door, entered the Garrett J. Blackman Corporate Plaza, and crossed the huge marble reception area to greet the middle-aged man at the main reception desk. "Evening, Marco," he said, as he reached for the pen to sign in. The man grinned back at him.
"Back to old times again, Jon . . . you here at all hours. For a while, I'd wondered if you'd left us."
Jonny's answering smile held a shade of sadness. "For a while, I wondered if I had." At the man's slightly bewildered look, he shook his head. "Some days I don't quite know if I'm coming or going."
"With the hours you keep? I don't doubt it. Go on, I'll unlock the elevator for you. Those hooligans of yours are already here and waiting."
"Thanks, Marco. You have a good night," he said with a wave and walked toward the elevator. When it arrived, he stepped onto it and pushed the button for the 27th floor. As it rose smoothly, Jonny thought about what Marco had said. In some indefinable way, he had almost lost himself . . . in more ways than one. Certainly, during the last month, he'd come incredibly close to getting himself killed. Not that that was such an unusual situation really, but still . . .
He'd probably come even closer to losing Jess . . . a thought that didn't even bear consideration. She was still refusing to talk about what happened to her and Kefira while they were all in Bangalore, but Jonny knew it was haunting her. Not a night went by that he didn't wake to find her tossing and turning, locked into a nightmare she couldn't seem to put to rest. Some nights she quieted without ever waking, while others she woke screaming. On those nights, she would rise from their bed and not return. When he went looking for her, he would usually find her huddled in some darkened corner of their apartment, her knees to her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs, and her forehead resting on her knees, as though she was trying to hide from her dreams. He had tried to make her talk to him, but she rarely said a word. All he could do was to coax her out of her tight little ball, pick her up, carry her back to their bed, and hold her close until the ghosts seemed to pass and she fell asleep once more. At least this morning she had finally admitted she needed help and as he left the house, he heard her talking to her dad. That knowledge gave Jonny a little bit of peace. Race would know what to do to help her.
He'd almost lost Hadji, too, and not only to his enemies in Bangalore. The memory of the fury and disgust on his brother's face when he supported Race's decision to enforce the terms of his father's will was indelibly imprinted on his memory. Jonny wasn't sure if the damage would ever have been fixable if their father had died in that fashion. And the thought of losing his brother terrified him almost as much as the idea of losing Jess.
And then there was his father. Jonny leaned against the elevator wall, thinking about his dad. He had talked to him every day since leaving the Compound a little over two weeks ago. Sometimes it was just a quick phone call to check in and to be sure he was doing okay. Other times, they talked for an hour or more. And during those conversations, Jonny had found that the man he had known and loved all of his life was back. Things weren't the same between them, certainly, and they probably never would be, but when he made that comment to his father a few days before, Benton had simply chuckled and told him that it was all part of growing up. Jonny supposed that was true, but that knowledge didn't prevent him from wishing that the events of the last seven months had never happened.
Jonny still found himself getting defensive sometimes. Certain subjects were almost guaranteed to bring it out in him. His father learned what those were very quickly, and for a while he steered clear of them. But in the last day or two, he'd begun to return to them again. He was very careful not to be critical or sound judgmental when he brought them up, but he did insist on talking about them. Jonny wasn't entirely sure he knew what his father was trying to accomplish, but he was finally to the point where he was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. He supposed that was a step in the right direction.
The benefit of the doubt . . . that was more than Jess was willing to grant him right now. Jonny frowned, thinking about the relationship between his father and girlfriend. Jessie was avoiding his dad like a plague and she still had a lot of anger and resentment simmering very near the surface. He could feel it. He'd tried to talk to her about it, but all she did was encourage him to continue trying to rebuild his relationship with his father and then found an excuse to end the conversation. Jonny wished he knew what had happened to alienate her so totally. Hadji had said that his last fight with his father had angered her, but then she generally was angry after the two of them fought, so there was nothing terribly unusual in that. He simply couldn't figure out what had been different this time. But whatever it was, it had triggered a confrontation between them. He asked both of them what happened, but neither offered much. His father's reply was that Jessie had a right to be angry and that he should leave it alone. And all Jessie would say was, "Time will tell."
Jonny sighed in frustration as the elevator came to a stop. Life never seems to get any easier, he thought to himself as he stepped out and turned toward the big glass doors that led into the main office. But as he pushed them open and headed for his cubicle, he grinned reluctantly. Maybe things didn't get any easier as you got older, but he wouldn't trade his life for anything. This too shall pass, he thought philosophically as he tossed his jacket into the chair and then headed for the back of the office complex. As he rounded the corner, he saw four expectant faces look up, relief lightening their expressions. Contentment filled him as he grinned back at them.
"Okay, you outlaws, what have you done to it now?"
(for now)
(c) 2001-2002 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 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.
