Author's note: poem incorporated in the story is by Dylan Thomas

The One and Only Jessie Bannon – A Jonny Quest: The Real Adventures Fanfiction

by Akane-Rei


Chapter Four: Coping With the Memories Part 2


"Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay . . ."

Dr. Benton Quest found his son lying down in the living room sofa, fast asleep. The dark circles under his eyes attested to the fact that Jon had not been getting the much needed sleep his doctor had advised him of. Benton began massaging his temple with his right hand. He wondered what time slumber finally overtook Jon's body.

Not wanting to disturb Jon, he slowly crept back out of the room and headed for the study, wishing for a time when he and his son could talk about anything under the sun.

He sat down on the armchair and stared unseeingly at the ledge by the fireplace in front of him while he reflected the past thirteen years of their lives. First of all, he found it amazing that it had been thirteen years since that incident that caused them all so much grief. Whenever he looked at his son, or his adopted son for that matter, it always seems like the memory of that night is just below the surface, as if it happened yesterday instead.

Not that he, himself, did not feel the loss of Jessie as acutely as everyone else did. Jessie was like a daughter to him. However, at that time, there didn't seem to be any time for him to express his own grieving. His family needed a rock to hold on to while they struggled to cope and he . . . he took on the role of holding everything together because, the truth of the matter is, someone needed to. At the wake of Jessie's death, everyone fell apart.

Jonny had . . . he took a deep breath, not wanting to remember the stranger that was his son during those first couple of years. And Hadji . . . Hadji had shocked him. He had thought that Hadji, more than anyone, would be able to cope better, but he had been wrong. Thinking back through it all, he really shouldn't have been surprised. Those three were closer to each other than any other set of friends he knew. What's more, Jessie had been the sole feminine influence those boys had during their years of growing up. According to the psychiatrist, in Jonny's case at least, losing Jessie had been as traumatic as losing his mother. Perhaps even more so since he was already almost sixteen at that time.

Yes, he was the one that finally pushed Jonny and Hadji to see a . . . professional. He didn't know what else to do. The Compound had resembled a mausoleum during those days. And he . . . he couldn't stand the silence. He missed the exuberant laughter that used to echo the walls. He missed the constant bickering between his son and a certain red-head. He missed seeing Hadji's attempts to mediate and stay neutral. He missed nearly getting knocked over by a hover board. Hell, he even missed the occasional explosion that inevitably resulted from their attempts to upgrade Quest World.

Of course, an explosion did occur. This explosion, however, was not the kind which he missed, nor was it the one he expected. It was an explosion between his two sons.

Perhaps that was what triggered his determination that they see a psychiatrist. The scene which he witnessed when he got home that day was something he would never like to see again. He remembered walking in the middle of their scuffle. Jonny was doing his best to pound his friend -- brother really -- while Hadji was doing an admirable job of holding his own. However, it wasn't the physical abuse which they were giving each other that sent chills down his spine. It was the looks they gave each other and the words that came out of their mouths . . . It wasn't even the fact that they were swearing quite fluently to each other. No, it was more than that. It was the bitterness which laced each sentence. It was the hidden message behind what they said.

That was one of those times when he would have really appreciated Race's presence. Before that time, he never knew how hard it was to separate two young adults from inflicting more pain to each other. He could have really used Race's help in doing that. But then, Race had his own issues to deal with.

Benton had fought tooth and nail to get both of them to agree to take up counseling. And in the end, he used guilt and the memory of Jessie to get them to reluctantly consent. It was probably the best thing which he could have done for them. Genius that he is in things which concerns phenomenology, he was an absolute idiot when it came to dealing with teenage boys and their emotional problems.

He sighed. He remembered the doctor asking if he also wanted to talk about the incident. He also remembered laughingly declining. He was fine. He was dealing with his grief on his own. In fact, compared to the rest, he was alright. He was great. He couldn't be better, given the circumstances. For some reason, that did not seem to reassure the doctor and she looked pityingly at him. He had turned away then and headed back home.

He looked up at the mantle by the fireplace and saw what he was staring at all this time. It was a picture, an old one really. It had Jonny, Jessie, and Hadji, all smiling -- no, laughing -- at the camera, their arms around each other. It was taken in Bangalore by Pasha with his old camera and given to Hadji as a present. Hadji, in turn, placed it in a frame and put it in the study room. Benton chuckled. The house used to be full of pictures of the three of them in one adventure or the other. One by one, however, they disappeared. He didn't know which one of his sons -- and he was sure it was one or both of them -- was responsible for taking them away. He never tried to find out.

He got up from his chair and walked over the fireplace. Taking the picture frame, he stared at the laughing, innocent faces of youth. He looked at Jessie, in particular. She would have been, what? Twenty-nine years old by now. Who knows what she could have accomplished. Who knows what discoveries are left undiscovered or what inventions are left uninvented because of her premature death. Jessie had always taken after him more so than Jonny when it came to intellectual pursuits.

What a waste, he thought.

His vision became a little bleary when he saw a drop of water drop on the glass of the frame.

Tears?

Must have gotten something in my eye, he thought. Why, I haven't shed a tear since --

- - FLASHBACK - -

"Rage . . ."

Damn it all to hell! he thought, running towards the cliff where he saw two figures disappear. Oh God, Jessie!

Once he reached near the edge, all he could do was stare at the sea. The tides were high that night and the waves crashed the shores with more emphasis than usual. Everything else became muted.

He tried to block out the one thought that persisted in imbedding itself in his head, but to no avail. This was reality. He slowly walked towards the edge of the cliff, to peer down, hoping against hope that it wasn't as high as all of them thought. Hoping that he'll somehow see Jessie hanging at the edge, holding on to some tree root that could possibly be sticking out, holding out for her dear life, waiting for him or anyone else to extend a hand out to help her. As the logic of his mind told him, his hopes were in vain.

The cliff was higher than they thought it was. What's more, jagged rocks jutted out at the bottom. Jessie, wasn't hanging on for her dear life onto some nonexistent root. In fact, if he recalled correctly, she wasn't even conscious of this whole ordeal. No. From his vantage point, all he could see was the waves crashing into those jagged rocks.

"Rage against the dying of the light . . ."

A blackness threatened to overwhelm him when he felt a touch in his leg and looked at the source. To his surprise, he saw Jonny trying to break free of Hadji's hold. One look in his eyes was enough to tell him why exactly Hadji was holding him back. Crouching down to help, he was surprised to find out how hard it was to restrain his own son. Because he was afraid of hurting him, Benton tried to be gentle, but that doesn't seem to be working.

In some level of consciousness, he could hear Hadji trying to reach Jonny in some way, trying to talk to Jonny. He supposed he could have told him to save his breath. He saw that look Jonny had in his eyes. It was very close to the look he had in his own when he lost Rachel. No amount of reasoning will be able to reach him. Not right now at least. So instead, Benton tried harder to drag Jonny off the edge.

Unfortunately for him and Hadji, Jonny seemed to be endowed with a remarkable staying power at that time.

"You. Cannot. Follow. Her," he heard Hadji say vaguely.

He froze, his mind trying to assimilate the fact that the laughing girl he was talking to awhile ago was somewhere down there. Beyond their reach. Forever.

"I am sorry," he heard Hadji say calmly.

He watched as his adopted son delivered a blow that knocked Jonny unconscious. He looked at Jonny's prone figure and relaxed his hold.

That moment, he realized how close he was to losing his son, too.

He stood up, staring at his son, at the sea, at Hadji's shocked face. He stared back at the sea, knowing it had her, knowing it wasn't about to give her back.

He stood there, wanting to shout, wanting to pound something, wanting to break something. Behind him, he could hear someone screaming over and over the word "NO!"

He wanted to do that, too. He wanted to vent his anger his frustration. But he couldn't. A stone has landed in his chest and refused to budge. The lump in his throat refused to be swallowed. All he could do was stare at the sea and watch the foam the waves made when they hit the shore. He stood there, a closed bottle of unexpressed frustration and felt his eyes begin to water.

He tasted the salt of his silent tears and knew that that was all he was capable of releasing.

Jessie, he thought. I'm sorry.

- - END FLASHBACK - -

Revised October 10, 2004