Chapter Five: Something Fishy

Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters from The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest. They all belong to Hanna-Barbara. However, this story is mine, as are all the characters seen here that did not appear on the show.

Hadji tapped on Jessie's bedroom door. He waited a few beats, then called her name softly. There was no answer. Removing his baseball cap, he leaned his forehead against the door and sighed. His mother had said that Jesse would most likely be asleep, but he did not want to wait to see her.

He'd wanted to cancel his meetings and go straight to the police station after his mother had informed him that Jessie had been found, but she had gently, yet stubbornly, insisted that he keep his appointments because Jessie would need time to rest after all she'd been through. Neela had told him that his friend might be overwrought, but Hadji had seen Jessie keep her head in more than one life-or-death situation; he could not imagine that one street scuffle would send her over the edge. Hadji suspected that what his mother had really intended to do was give him a chance to regain his composure. He had to admit that he felt much better that Jessie was safe in Neela's care. That was why he'd sat through the Minister of Transportation's hour-long lament about the amount of funding required to repave residential streets, examined statistics presented to him by the head of the Ministry of Education, and had spoken with the police commissioner about a proposal to build a new jail.

On his way home, he had paid a visit to Detective Ravindra. The officer had agreed to wait at the station until the Sultan arrived in order to discuss the specifics of the attack against Jessie. The detective's report was meticulously detailed, and Hadji realized that his mother may have had another motive for wanting to be the first to see Jessie. Although Ravindra assured him that Jessie had won the battle, she could not have come out unscathed from a street fight against three men. Neela would have wanted to give his friend time to clean up afterward and had probably had her examined by a doctor as well. As he read about the damage Jessie had inflicted on the thugs, all of whom had priors for theft, he felt a surge of pride. She was certainly her father's daughter. After reading the statement made by the old man who'd called the police and witnessed the fight, Hadji resolved to find a way to repay him and his wife for their kindness.

The sultan tapped on Jessie's door again, a little harder this time. There was still no answer. He knew she was asleep, but he did not want to wait until she woke up. He just wanted to see her, to make sure she was all in one piece, even though, logically, he knew she was fine. He'd seen her sleeping before since he had shared a tent with her and Jonny on more than one camping trip, but actually going into her bedroom while she was sleeping seemed…presumptuous, somehow. He did it anyway.

He opened the door and entered the room, closing it behind him quietly. Jessie lay on the bed. The mosquito netting was tied back, and he could see her clearly. She was on her side, only half covered by the ivory silk sheet she was clutching to her chest. She'd thrown one slim leg was thrown over the sheet, and Hadji noticed that her skin was only slightly darker than the fabric. Her toenails had been painted a shimmering grass green, he noted with a smile. The smile faded when he saw her scraped and bruised knee. He began to frown when he saw the ring of fingerprint bruises that circled her exposed thigh. The white cut-off sweats she wore rode low on her hips, exposing a band of pale flesh between her waistband and the hem of the little pink—pink?—t-shirt she wore. Her lovely face looked serene in sleep, contrasting with the long, fiery hair that streamed over the pillows.

The sultan sat down on the upholstered stool that doubled as a step for the high bed. It wouldn't hurt to sit with her for a few minutes, he told himself. He propped his chin on his hand and watched her sleep.

Jessie's eyes fluttered open, and she gave a start when she realized she wasn't alone in the room. Hadji was sitting on the footstool by her bed. His folded arms rested on the mattress, and his head lay on them. The hat he'd worn that morning was hanging from the bronze statuette on the small table next to him. He was asleep, and she couldn't blame him—He'd only had about two hours of sleep that morning. I wonder what time it is, she thought. She rolled over to look at the clock on the nightstand beside her, then gasped as her bruised abdomen protested.

Hadji's head popped up. Apparently he had only been dozing. "What is the matter?" There was concern in his voice.

Jessie pressed her hands against her belly with a grimace. "One of those guys gut-punched me—knocked the wind out of me…" She trailed off when she saw the angry look on the sultan's face. "It's okay, Hadj. Your mom's doctor said I'd be fine in a couple days."

Hadji was glaring at the large purple-and-grey contusion that spread across her stomach, partially exposed by her t-shirt. Without thinking, he leaned over and pushed her shirt higher so that he could see the entire bruise.

Jessie held her breath as Hadji brushed his hand over the mark on her belly. What—? was the only coherent thought her mind could form. Their gazes locked and held, and Jessie felt as though she was falling into his dark eyes.

Suddenly, Hadji looked away, his face filling with dusky color. Jessie could feel her own cheeks heating up. Carefully he pulled her shirt back down, tugging a little on the hem, although it stopped about an inch above her navel.

"I-I beg…your pardon," he began haltingly. His voice was husky.

"It's okay," she whispered. "You didn't hurt me." She didn't know why she'd said that, once it was out of her mouth. They both knew that wasn't the reason he'd apologized.

He stared at her shirt because he could not look at her face. The pale pink baby doll shirt had a white cartoon rabbit on it, and beneath the character was the caption 'Kiss My Butt.' "Kiss my—?" he began.

Jessie laughed at the look on his face. Hadji's expression had gone from embarrassment to confusion so quickly it was comical. It made her forget to be embarrassed herself. "This was my Christmas present from Jonny last year," she informed him. "He thought it would make me mad, and it did, until I realized that when I wore it, I would be telling him to kiss my butt. I thought it was a fitting revenge."

Hadji had a tiny smile on his face. "The rivalry between the two of you never ceases to amuse me. I do wonder at your choice of ammunition, however." His smile widened. "Does this mean you would also like me to kiss y—"

"No!" She shouted, shocked as the image popped into her head. "I can't believe you just said that!" Her stomach ached as she laughed hysterically, but she could not stop. It was a welcome release for the earlier tension. Hadji laughed too, until tears filled his eyes. They finally calmed down but still grinned madly at each other. Jessie turned her head away from him and threw one arm across her face. She kept her other hand pressed against her belly. "I can't…look…at you! I'll…start…laughing again…and it…hurts too much," she panted.

The happy glow the sultan was feeling dimmed abruptly as he remembered exactly why his friend was laying in bed so early in the evening. "When the doctor came, did she give you anything to dull the pain?"

"Yeah," Jessie replied. "It's on the bathroom counter. What time is it?" She wasn't going to bother trying to look at the clock again.

"Almost seven o'clock. Would you like me to get it for you?"

"Sure, if you don't mind. It's almost time for another dose."

Hadji went to the bathroom and found the small white bottle sitting to one side, slightly away from Jessie's collection of the various feminine accoutrements that so many women felt they needed to make themselves presentable. I do not even want to know what that is for, he thought, eyen a device that had handles like a pair of tongs on one end and two parallel half-circles on the other. Picking up the bottle, he read that she was to take one tablet at a time. He tipped a single light blue pill into his hand, then replaced the lid. He filled the green-and-gold glazed porcelain cup from the faucet and stepped back into the bedroom, only to run directly into Madhu, who had just entered the room with Jessie's dinner.

Water sloshed out of the cup onto the maid, and the tray she was carrying hit the floor with a crash. She stood staring at Hadji, both hands over her mouth in shock. Behind her, wearing an equally surprised expression, was Neela. Hadji's mother recovered first, speaking firmly to Madhu in Hindi. The young woman immediately knelt and began to pick up the food and broken dishes that littered the floor.

Neela took in her son's appearance and saw why Madhu had stared at him. This was the first she had seen of him since meeting him and Jessie in the hall that morning, and she was a little surprised at how he looked. He was bareheaded and dresses in western clothing, and too her knowledge, none of the servants had ever seen him so attired. She had not seen him without a turban since he was a small child, and she was startled by how different he looked without it. It was akin to the feeling one has when seeing a person who wears eyeglasses regularly take them off. The accessory was part of what made them who they were.

"I had not realized you were home, my son. Were your meetings satisfactory?" Neela asked politely, although there were a few other questions for which she would have liked answers. For example: Why was her son dressed in such a manner? Had he come here as soon as he had gotten home? How long had he been here? What was he doing in here? However, she was polite enough not to ask such things aloud.

"I returned home only a short while ago, Mother. I wanted to see that Jessie was alright." He gave her an inquiring look as he answered her second question. "My meetings went much as I expected. I have some paperwork to do this evening, as usual."

"Was no one upset that you were late?"

"I received no complaints, so I offered no excuses. It is not as though I make a habit of being tardy."

"Certainly not," Neela replied in a soothing voice. It was unusual to see her son on the defensive, and she did not want him to feel like she was interrogating him—although she was, and not nearly as thoroughly as she would like. She changed the subject. "Have you eaten supper?"

"No, I have not," the sultan replied. "I thought to dine with Jessie, although it appears that I knocked her supper to the floor." He bent and took the tray, one-handed, from Madhu, who was trying to get up from the floor and lift the heavy tray at the same time. Once she was standing, he handed it back to her with a nod.

"That can be resolved with little trouble." Neela paused and looked toward the bed. "Unless you are too tired, Jessie?"

As Jessie struggled to sit up, she replied, "No, I'm not tired at all." Hadji hurried over and helped her up, propping a few brightly-colored pillows behind her for support. She smiled up at him as she said, "And really, I'd love the company."

Hadji's mother did not miss the look that passed between the two young people, and a sidelong glance at Madhu told her that the maid had not missed it either. The wheels in Neela's head were turning. It was becoming more apparent to her that Jessie's interest in her son had not died over the years (no matter how she had denied that it had even existed). And Hadji no longer appeared to be ignorant of her charms, as he had been so long ago. Neela resolved to give the matter greater attention. In the meantime, it would be necessary to keep the maid from carrying tales to the rest of the staff.

"I will have supper for two sent here, Neela announced. "Perhaps you would like to refresh yourself before it arrives, my son." She left the room, shooing Madhu out before her.

Hadji looked down at Jessie as the bedroom door closed behind his mother. "Actually, that is an excellent suggestion. I believe I will do so."

"I'll await your return with bated breath," she replied melodramatically, fluttering her eyelashes at him as she held her clasped hands to her chest. Smiling at her silliness, the young man leaned forward to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. "Do not hold your breath too long," he teased, "for I do not believe that a blue face would compliment your orange hair."

"My hair is not orange," she said indignantly as Hadji moved toward the door.

"I would not have it any other way," he replied, more to himself than to her, then left the room before Jessie hade a chance to reply.

Jessie sat for a moment, contemplating the possible meaning of his parting shot. The dynamics of their relationship were changing so quickly she wasn't sure what to think about it. They had known each other for years, but the vibes she felt around Hadji weren't "old buddy, old pal" feelings. She'd considered her old high school crush on him long over, so were these new feelings a result of the fact that they hadn't seen each other in so long? Her visit was going to be a short one, and she couldn't see any point in pursuing what appeared to be developing between them when she knew she wouldn't have another chance to see him for several months. She was startled out of her thoughts by a knock on the door.

Without bother to leave her bed, she invited whomever it was to enter. Neela came in, followed by two servant men who quickly assembled a beautifully inlaid wooden folding table and two matching chairs.

"Wow," Jessie commented as she watched the process. "I wasn't exactly expecting this. It seems like a lot of trouble."

"We cannot have the sultan sitting on the floor to eat his supper," Hadji's mother replied with a smile, "and it is certainly no trouble for a treasured guest such as you are."

Jessie was a little embarrassed and couldn't think of anything to say, so she said nothing.

The men left, and a pretty young servant woman entered, carrying a bundle under one arm and a small bouquet of dainty white roses in one hand. Neela watched as the maid spread a bright red tablecloth over the table and set out crisp white napkins. When the maid left the room, the sultan's mother arranged the flowers herself, placing them the short cut-crystal vase that had been bundled inside the tablecloth. Once she was satisfied, she turned back to Jessie.

"Madhu will be here soon with supper. Let me help you to your chair."

Jessie declined the older woman's offer of aid and gingerly climbed out of the big bed herself. Neela shook her head at Jessie's stubbornness and excused herself to go and discover what was delaying Madhu.

Jessie spent a few minutes fidgeting in the quiet room before deciding she had to do something besides sit there and wait. Just as she was about to shove her chair away from the table with her feet, there was yet another knock on the door. "Come in," Jessie called, thinking it was probably Neela. It was Hadji instead. He'd changed his clothes and was once again wearing his customary white turban. He extended a cell phone out to her.

"It is Jonny," he said with a smile.

A grin spread over Jessie's face as she took the phone from Hadji. "Hey, Hotshot! How's it going?" Hadji sat in the chair across from her and watched her talk to his adopted brother.

"How's it going yourself?" Eighteen-year-old Jonny replied.

"Not bad. I'm just getting ready to have dinner."

"Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"You aren't going to believe this, but a cow stepped on it!"

In a disbelieving voice, Jonny asked, "you're kidding, right?"

"You can't imagine how much I wish I were!" She exclaimed, then she gave him an abbreviated and censored version of how her cell phone had ended up in the path of the bull cart earlier that day.

They both laughed, and Jonny said, "Wait 'til I tell my dad he has to invent cow-proof cell phones! But anyway," he continued, "what else did you do today?"

"Hadji took me shopping. It was pretty exciting."

"Shopping?" Jonny sounded dubious.

"Well, you had to be there," she said with a chuckle.

"Did you buy me anything?" He teased.

"Why would I do that? Don't you have enough junk in your room already?"

"Hey, you can never have enough junk, as long as someone else is paying for it!"

Jessie laughed at that, then asked him about his day. They talked for about twenty minutes before saying goodbye. "Take care, Hotshot. Give my love to my dad and the doc." She offered the phone to Hadji, who'd gotten up to let Madhu into the room but was now off to the side while the maid set out the dishes.

Jessie ended the phone call as the sultan explained, "I spoke to him before I brought the phone to you."

"Did you say anything about what happened today?" She asked him.

"No. I thought it should be your story to tell." He paused. "I notice you did not."

"I don't think I will, at least not anytime soon. I'm okay, relatively speaking, and I don't want my dad to think I can't take care of myself when I'm away from home. I'm trying to be more independent, and if he knew what had happened, you know as well as I do that he'd be on a plane and heading here quicker than you could blink."

Hadji nodded. "I think you did an excellent job of taking care of yourself under the circumstances." He thanked Madhu as she left the room, then he took his place at the table.

"Why, thank you," she said with a smile. She unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap, then lifted the cover of her dish and dug in. The adrenaline rush caused by the day's events had left her famished, and she wasn't shy about eating when she was hungry.

"Jessie…" Hadji's somber tone brought the young woman's attention back to him as he sat on the other side of the table. He had not touched his plate. "I am sorry for the ordeal you went through this afternoon. I regret that I was not able to prevent what happened."

Her expression became as serious as his. "I won't lie to you, Hadj. I was scared, but more than that, I was angry. I hated that I felt helpless, and I was angry with myself for my lack of foresight. Whether or not anyone could have prevented what happened, I should have been better prepared. I should have put money somewhere other than my purse so that I could have taken a taxi. I could have carried a map of the city. There were so many things I could have, and probably should have, done. I definitely don't blame you, and I don't want you to blame yourself." She sighed and plucked at the bright tablecloth. "It was just one of those things. You know how I seem to be a trouble magnet—although nowhere near the magnitude Jonny is."

Her last comment brought a small smile to his face, and the young sultan reached across the table to still her restless hand with his own. "I am sure that what you say is true, my friend, and yet I feel as though I am missing something important." He paused, thinking. "I cannot quite 'put my finger on it,' as they say."

Jessie looked him in the eyes, frowning a bit. "You know, I did get the impression that Tungesh was trying to ditch me…he—hmmm..." She fell silent and sat back in her chair, clasping her hands in front of her mouth thoughtfully. Her supper lay on the table, forgotten for the moment.

Hadji sipped from his water goblet and waited patiently for her to decide what she wanted to say. At last, she spoke.

"He said something to the effect that he resented having to deal with me because I didn't act or dress the way a—I believe the term he used was "well-bred"—woman should. I know there are some cultural differences here, but he was trying to insult me. I hate to admit it, but it worked. While I was yelling at him, he dashed, and the next thing I knew, I'd been knocked down and robbed."

The sultan set his glass down carefully in an effort to control his temper. "It appears that further conversation with Tungesh is in order," he said quietly. "I felt sure that he was hiding something from me when we encountered him alone this afternoon."

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. Instead, each processed the information they had just received.

Jessie broke the silence. "Maybe we should finish dinner while we let whatever's going on just stew in the backs of our minds for a while. Sometimes it's easier to come up with an answer when you aren't looking for it."

Hadji agreed, and they passed a pleasant hour talking about anything except what really on their minds. When they finished, the sultan summoned servants to remove the remains of supper.

After the room was cleared, Hadji observed Jessie's careful attempt to climb back in bed without causing herself too much discomfort. Rather than give her a chance to refuse an offer of help, he merely scooped her up in his arms and deposited her gently on the bed.

Jessie yelped in surprise when she felt him catch her under her knees and shoulders. By the time she realized what was happening, she was already lying on the mattress. "That wasn't necessary," she said with a small, self-conscious laugh.

"I know," he replied, still standing over her, "but I enjoyed doing it."

"I'll just bet you did," she said, but her smile softened the sarcasm in her voice. On impulse, she put her arms around his neck and gave him a quick squeeze. "Goodnight."

He returned the gesture, pressing his cheek against hers in the process. He paused a moment to take in the scent of her hair and the softness of her skin, then straightened as her arms fell away. "Goodnight," he replied. He released the mosquito netting from its tiebacks, then left the room, turning off the light as he went.

Instead of heading to his own bed, the sultan went to his office. It was still early enough for him to spend some time with the seemingly endless amount of paperwork that his position afforded him.

Hadji clicked the 'Save' button, then printed three copies of his suggestions form improvement of the police commissioner's proposal. Tomorrow, he would have one copy delivered to the commissioner and one to Minister Hiranya. The last one would go into his files. As much as he depended on computers, he had enough experience with hackers—and had even been one himself—to know that a hard copy was the best backup file. Thinking of his primary advisor reminded him that he needed to pay a visit to the man's son.

To give him the benefit of the doubt, Tungesh probably had no idea how dangerous Jessie's situation had been that afternoon. He could not know what she had endured. Although he most likely does not care, the sultan thought wryly. However, there was something about the way things had unfolded earlier that made him wonder about how much of Jessie's ordeal was an accident. He wanted to be sure that the younger man knew what had occurred because of his carelessness. It was too much to hope that he might be upset by what had happened. Hadji did not like to throw his power around, but if it became necessary to impress upon the young man the foolishness of his actions, he would use what he had at his disposal—even if he had to go to his primary advisor to do so.

The tall clock against the wall chimed once, and Hadji glanced over to see that it was indeed one o'clock in the morning. He rubbed his temples and pushed his chair away from the desk with his feet. He had promised his mother that they would meditate together at dawn, so he had better get some sleep. He shut down the computer and headed for his rooms.

Hadji's suite of three rooms was large and consisted of a sitting room where he infrequently watched television, a huge bedroom, and a luxuriously appointed bathroom. It was still smaller than the Sultan's Apartment, which was the five-room suite his mother kept as she had during her marriage to his father. Hadji had encouraged her to remain there, where she could be surrounded by memories of the man she had loved so much—and still loved, if the truth were known.

He removed his turban, changed into soft cotton pajamas, then climbed into his bed, which was even larger and more ornate than the one in Jessie's room. Before he lay down, he picked up the photograph of his family that he'd brought with him when he'd moved here for good, and looked at the smiling faces in it. The picture was about four years old, and everyone in it seemed so young, even Mrs. Evans, who'd had to be cajoled into posing with them. He placed the photo back on the night stand where it had been for two years, switched of the lights using the switch next to the headboard, then lay down and closed his eyes. Jessie, he thought as an image of her laughing face popped into his head, what is it about you? This sudden and fierce urge he had to keep her safe and by his side was beginning to disturb him. Even as he attempted to rationalize it with a variety of reasons—she was a good friend and he could not stand by and see her harmed, as her host it was his responsibility to protect her, etc.—he recognized that there was some other truth that he was not yet willing to consider. He made certain his alarm clock was set then shut off the light and went to sleep.

!Thank You! To everyone who reviewed Chapter Four: Palin1, Wildxtreme, Makotostar, Echo, and Chihuahua.

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Author's Note: This is a revision of the original Chapter Five. Some things are the same, but much of it has been edited or deleted, and quite a bit has been added. I chose to rewrite this chapter because I was unhappy with the first version I posted; I no longer felt that it was appropriate to the story that I am trying to tell. In any case, I like this version much better, and I hope you do, too.

I still want to thank those who took the time to review the original Chapter Five: Makotostar, Wildxtreme, Kris Davis, Palin1, Echo, and Renisanz. I really appreciate your encouragement!

If you like it, let me know—if you don't like it, tell me why!