Disclaimer: Jonny Quest, The Matrix, and Penney Memorial Church are not mine. However the Iverson Assembly, Garman the scientist, and Sanjana are all products of my own imagination. Additionally, I do not own 'Stonewall Farm Bed & Breakfast.' But Ryan, Daniel, and Naomi came straight from my own head.
A/N: Descriptions/information on the bed and breakfast are mostly of my own making. I'm pretty sure the actual bed and breakfast is much more savvy than my fictional one. The bed and breakfast has five bedrooms, but I couldn't find the name of the fifth room so I made it up (Dewhurst).
Chapter 2: Time
Only vague recognition settled in Jonny's eyes as he traveled through city after city, having absolutely no idea where he would be going or what he would do when he got there. Waldoboro, Wiscasset, Bath, Brunswick, Yarmouth, Portland, Saco, Kennebunk... Even then, he'd detoured from Saco over to Springvale and then over to Kennebunk, just because it seemed a unique way to reach North Berwick and then the border.
Every mile marker that passed Jonny on his new path offered both a sense of freedom and a feeling of dread he could neither shake off nor separate from each other. The two mixed together so deeply that they seemed to create their own feeling as he traversed any road but the expressway.
The blond-haired adventurer's only reason for not giving into his emotions was the note Jessie had sneakily left in his pocket when she hugged him. At least, he had not noticed it being there before that moment. Distracted though he was at the church, he expected it would have been easy to feel a note crunching in his pocket. Trust Jessie to know what he planned before he even decided himself.
The words of the message were metaphorically worn from his eyes gazing over and over them, if not faded in actual print from running his fingers over it in silent appreciation when he felt a little lost.
Waiting for your phone call, Hot-Shot.
Don't be a stranger and please, please call mom if you need anything!
She's counting on it.
Love, Jess
P.S. – The loft is a little careworn, but fairly livable.
On the opposite side of the country from both Maine and Florida, Estella Velasquez's loft had been her getaway whenever Jessie visited the compound with Race and archaeological work was exceptionally slow. Except for Jessie and Jonny, no one knew about the little place, which was perfect for the young man's needs at the present time.
No one would come banging on the door, wondering if Estella knew where Jonathan Benton Quest had run off to. No one would come asking why Jonny had avoided his father's extravagant and highly-publicized second wedding. Nor why he had failed to deliver a heartfelt speech at the equally extravagant and highly-publicized reception, to bless the union of his father and stepmother – the most brilliant scientific mind of the last thirty years and the rising starlet of social politics, respectively.
Guilt plagued Jonny's senses as he thought about the latter, though it was harshly restrained by a formidable feeling of righteousness and hurt. Vague acceptance might not have been amiss, but the entire wedding – hell, the whole interlude between Benton and Alena for the past few years – just seemed to be wrong in oh-so-many ways when Jonny really thought about it. How could his father even hope to make the relationship work if there was no love between them? But such thoughts made Jonny's head pound and it took little self-persuasion to stop thinking about it for a while.
Approaching Somersworth, New Hampshire with a decidedly unhappy air, Jonny reluctantly stopped for gas. Briefly, he wondered about heading right up to Skyhaven Airport and taking a plane across the country to the loft. It would shorten the trip and his new life, such as it was, could start as soon as possible.
Feeling lost and confused about the direction of his entire life, however, he swiftly decided to continue on via the highway. If there was anything the young adventurer needed so vitally, so assuredly... it was time.
Time to plan, for one thing. Time to consider all his options in a level-headed and patient way, for another.
More than anything, Jonny could only say he needed time to heal. Sitting around a loft where he had no company, no purpose, and no roots was painful enough without adding in the loss of the one person who had always seemed to be his greatest supporter.
Somewhere along the way through Newmarket, Jonny came to the heavy conclusion that he must think long and hard over the ramifications of everything he was contemplating. Emotional whiplash had taken a firm hold of him in the silent car ride. Sure, it had seemed great while Jess acted so supportive, but what would it feel like to finally settle in a new place and walk away from his family – blood or otherwise – to be totally alone?
Oh, he was used to isolation; had come to understand it quite well, up until Race Bannon arrived on their doorstep so many years prior.
But this was different because while he had been alone so often in his early youth, it was a mutual isolation with his father. Now, in this moment, Jonny could see the drastic difference between the two situations and he had to admit it frightened him immensely. Even though he and Benton had kept to themselves enough to be considered emotional hermits, as a rule Jonathan had never been alone like this before. His father had always been his fail-safe.
Shouldn't he, Jonny, have waited to leave until after the wedding and the honeymoon were over and both Benton and Alena had to return to normal activities? So that his father wouldn't be so stressed and might reconsider their hard parting? So that, just maybe, Benton would let him back in and Jonny wouldn't have to leave at all...
Even as he thought about it, certain words floated in and out of his thoughts; they were painful words that struck a difficult chord.
There's nothing more for us to discuss, Jonathan…
Thank you for your opinion, although it wasn't necessary…
…this is rather disappointing…
The phrases stung; they put salt in his open wounds. But it cleared his mind also.
No, there was no sense in waiting. Whatever had made his father decide to react the way he did, Jonny knew it was not something that had formed purely out of the stress of Benton's relationship with Alena. Leaving was the only way to get out honestly, unless Jonny was willing to face a cold, forced, bitter relationship with his dad for the rest of their lives. And that was one thing he simply could not face.
Instead of wondering what he would do with his life now that he was totally on his own, Jonny decided to check out the local scenery with more clarity as it passed his window. For a little while after passing Manchester, there was really no indication of his exact location, though he knew he was still in New Hampshire. Then a sign directing him to Hawthorne-Feather Airpark cleared it all up; he was very close to Hillsborough, New Hampshire.
Being decently acquainted with the town that boasted Franklin Pierce's homestead, Jonny wondered if he should stop for the night. It seemed unlikely that anything would be gained by driving for hours without any sleep, anyway. Not willing to risk a car accident or running out of gas in the middle of a less-familiar place, the young man pulled into a gas station just outside of town and went in to inquire about lodgings and – as he quickly saw was necessary – fill up the near-empty tank.
Paying for the fuel led him to asking about local lodgings, to which he was offered a booklet on the subject, and a specific recommendation for a bed-and-breakfast down the way.
While waiting for the gauge to eventually hit full, Jonny abruptly remembered his promise to call Jessie once he got settled somewhere. Figuring that Hillsborough was about as 'settled' as he was going to get until he reached the west coast, the young man sat inside the car, pulled out his cell phone and pressed the speed dial button for one of his favorite redheads.
The ringing seemed to go on forever, but Jonny supposed it was because of his restlessness more than anything else. As soon as he had stretched his legs, he felt a desire to get right back in the car and drive off again. Yet if he learned one thing in his life so far, it was that running was only a good response when you were facing death or bodily harm, not when what you were running from was yourself.
When the phone was at last answered, it was not by Jessie at all, but Estella.
"You're all right, then."
That rich, dignified voice, weighted by the slight return of her Colombian accent, was so strongly rooted in relief, worry, and understanding that Jonny felt a strong surge of affection for the mother of his best friend.
"Yeah, I'm pretty good," he concluded untruthfully, doubting if he would ever be completely all right unless and until he fixed the damaged relationship with his father. But that was a matter for another time, when he was less likely to break down over the whole situation.
"In the physical sense only, of course," Estella replied dryly. Jonny could imagine the wry, exasperated look on her face as if she were standing directly before him. Somehow, it made him feel better to think like that.
"We can't have it all, now can we?" he remarked with quite a liberal amount of sarcasm.
"I suppose not," was her sad conclusion, accompanied by a heavy sigh. "Where are you? Or is that considered an adventurer's foremost trade secret and completely off limits to a nosy old woman?"
"Old woman," Jonny found himself teasing her, a tiny smile covering his face as he rolled his eyes at her exaggeration. Smiling was a rare luxury after the kind of day he'd had and it grounded him in the present without the added pressure of the emotions that had been cascading over him the entire drive.
Something heavy weighed down his stomach now, but he suddenly found himself capable of living past it. "As if. You look nearer to your daughter's age than your own. As to my whereabouts, I'll have to decide if I can trust you with such sensitive information before I reveal the answer."
Chuckling was her only response, leaving Jonny to fill the mildly awkward silence that ensued between them. "So, where's Jess right now?"
This time, Estella groaned outright, though extremely quietly. The sound was recognizable as the sort of noise she often made when trouble started brewing for either her daughter or for Jonny. Gauging the situation from a more objective point of view, the young adventurer guessed it was him facing the trouble this time. Not that it was such an unusual phenomenon, but still...
"You will not like it," she informed him with a short, irritated sigh. "I am warning you right now, you just will not like it."
"What's going on this time, then?" he sighed resignedly, knowing it would be far better to hear the news now than to find out while caught in some random notoriety scene at a grocery store or a gas station like the one he sat in front of at that very moment. From the way the attendant had eyed the back AmEx card and now kept shooting surreptitious looks at Jonny's pricey red Mercedes, suspicions appeared to be high enough in the first place.
"The press is... in an uproar, to say the very least," Estella admitted tiredly, at which point Jonny knew without asking she was rubbing her temples to ward off the growing headache. Forestalling such a reaction himself, Jonny instead jumped out just as the indicator began to rise towards full and waited until he could remove the nozzle from the tank to replace it in its holding. "At the worst, they're downright fanatical. Your disappearance from the wedding initiated a whole host of rumors, obviously."
"The least of which would be...?" he prompted with curiosity and a raised brow, getting back into the car absentmindedly. The range of stories would allow him to determine his plans with some vague solidity. If the higher end of the range went dark enough and personal enough to cause him pains in moving quietly forward, then a change of name, hair color, and car was in order as soon as humanly possible.
"That you and your father are having a fiery family feud over who should be running Quest companies and stocks," Estella answered easily. "Apparently, The Washington Post is printing an early edition about–"
"Uh oh!" Jonny interceded with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. The Washington Post had been a thorn in the Quest family's side for years, but particularly in Jonny's. They just loved to make him out as the rebellious teen who thought he could run his father's enterprises better than Benton himself could.
"Wait for it..." Estella went to say, a slight laugh in her voice, "about your – and I quote – 'stormy anticipation of overtaking the major holdings of a worn-down company for controversial revitalization.' End quote."
"Considering my experiences with the press in the last decade, that's actually kind of friendly," confessed Jonny sincerely, relaxing further in his seat as he drove away from the station and its nosy attendant. Honestly, the particular quote Estella mentioned was altogether boring. How much more clichéd could the rumors get? Nevermind the fact there really was a feud; the subject of that debate was nowhere near about the enormous Quest industries and its current owner. "What else have they got to throw at me?"
"The National Enquirer is saying that you and Jessie are eloping, thanks to Benton's disapproval of having a less-than-socially-acceptable match for his only son and heir."
"Irina started that one," Jonny stated knowledgeably, rolling his eyes at the musical starlet's attempts to sabotage whatever relationship she still believed Jessie and Jonny were engrossed in – 'behind her back,' as she put it. The day that Irina Kafka got truly clued in about Jonny's real (non-existent) love life, he would leap from a cliffside in utter joy.
"How on earth do you know that?" asked Estella incredulously. Jonny had to remind himself how little Estella knew of Irina.
"Well, how many tabloids are going to draw the conclusion of elopement simply because I missed the wedding? Add in the bit about Jess not being 'socially-acceptable'... That's totally Irina's handiwork. She has this thing about social status now, and she keeps accusing me of backstabbing her with Jessie. Honestly, it has been driving us nuts."
"That is a good point," Estella agreed a bit sheepishly. "And Jessie did put in an appearance at the reception, so..."
"She did?" Although Jonny was surprised, he could see that it made sense. Jessie had probably imagined this rumor could be passed around if she didn't show herself at the wedding events at all.
"Yes, we sat together at the back of the reception hall." Mischief littered Estella's voice.
"Why does that leave me feeling so uneasy?" Jonny breathed a small laugh, relieved at how easily it came to him.
Estella had a difficult time speaking through her own laughter, "We may have made fun of the decorations... and the groomsmen's ties... and a certain bridesmaid."
Jonny truly laughed at the embarrassed confession.
"Hey, before I forget," he added suddenly, "why do you have Jess' phone?"
"She's so busy with damage control," Estella explained with another sigh. "I'm afraid to imagine how little sleep she'll be getting this week."
"Maybe if she knows I'm safely away, she'll sleep a little more," he suggested hopefully.
"It will help, I know that much," the archaeologist assured him.
A sign for the bed and breakfast on the packet Jonny had gotten came into sight just then, a vision the young man felt rather wary about the closer he came to it. What if they recognized him? What if someone got word back to the compound or the press? Peace would be nonexistent if that happened, he was sure. The thoughts swirled dangerously in his mind, steadily increasing his tension.
"Are you even listening, Nathy?" Estella's voice cut through Jonny's reminiscence sharply, the use of that nickname spurring him to indignation. Only Estella had ever used it. To be blunt, it was something she had done to irritate him whenever he seemed to be either too proud or too reckless to listen to her instructions.
"Not that name!" he half-shouted into the cell phone. The woman's chuckling was a welcome sound in spite of his exceptional agitation.
"I figured it might wake you up a little bit," she slyly responded. Jonny scowled at the dashboard, but did not say a word in reply. "Now, where are you staying?"
"Stonewall Farm Bed and Breakfast," he said plainly. He figured it would be simpler to just tell her and let her decide what her next actions would be.
"What are you going to do?" The seriousness in her tone struck Jonny a bit senseless for a moment. He remained clueless as ever about his future. Not only did he not feel entirely certain about heading to the loft, he also did not feel completely sure of his ability to live on his own like that. He had become so used to the company at the compound that he had never considered doing an independent venture.
"I just don't know yet," he finally shrugged as nonchalantly as possible, turning into the bed and breakfast which was situated at an angle facing vaguely in the direction he'd come from, with the driveway on the side leading off into the back – and presumably to a parking lot. Jonny stopped just beside the front walkway. He was not going to park way in the back if there were no rooms available.
Estella took a deep breath; whether for patience or to keep emotions at bay, Jonny didn't know. "Hm. I guess that is all I can expect after what happened. Just... take care of yourself, will you? Contrary to the view of some, I do not wish you harm or to have a deeper falling out with your family."
"Who said that?" he asked – no, more like demanded. What a load of tripe.
"Irina," came the predictable sigh. "She claims I've been pushing you further and further from the family because I only want Jessie and her 'boyfriend' to be near me as much as possible. Jade did not help any, as you can guess."
"I hope you smacked them both," he bit out with unexpected fury. Normally he did not condone hitting women, but what right did that – Jonny had to refrain from using one of Jessie's less peaceable names – woman have to accuse Estella of that?
"Jessie nearly did, if it makes you feel any better." Amusement graced her voice, but Jonny could hear the hurt beneath it. Estella had made such an effort to be civil with Alena and Irina, but it had been thoroughly ignored. To top it all off, Race's love interest instantly became a close friend instead. Despite her strength, Jessie's mother could be quite sensitive.
"Not really, seeing as she didn't follow through all the way," he remarked, but rapidly changed the subject to spare her a tiny amount of upset if it was at all possible. "Tell Jess I miss her temper already, okay?"
"I will," Estella replied, a smile in her voice. "Oh, and she said she will call you to let you know if a change of name and appearance is at all necessary."
"I'll hold off until she calls, then," he agreed with some amusement. "Thank you, Estella."
"You are very welcome, Jonny. Call me for anything you need to, all right? Anytime, anywhere."
"Don't I always?" he laughed genuinely, thinking of the many times he had phoned Estella for advice. Particularly during the times he and Jessie had attempted dating. To put it mildly, their period of dating would have been an unqualified disaster without Estella's coaching. Saving their deep friendship rested entirely on the redheaded mother's shoulders.
"True," was all she said, laughing herself as she hung up. Still smiling mildly, the pale-haired youth put away the cell phone in his coat pocket, stepped out of his car, and headed up to the front door of the farm slowly and thoughtfully.
Well-maintained and old-fashioned in style, the large building was solid white with dozens of windows and a huge spot of land in the back. Trees and plants were everywhere, of course; he could see them all around the house, even in the darkness, thanks to the moon and the light hung up on the left front wall of the house beside a sign reading 'Stonewall Farm.' Jessie would have called the place enchanting, were she there with him at that moment.
Luckily for Jonny, the bed and breakfast accepted visitors at any time after five in the morning and before midnight. From what the station attendant said, it was originally meant as a courtesy for those who might have gotten lost trying to find the farm in the first place. For the time being, it was helpful for Jonny's late night visit.
Reaching the door at last, he looked through its multi-paned window before heading inside. What he found seemed to be the great room; a space that somehow reminded him of the many adventures he and his family had encountered over the years. Perhaps it was because of the many low-maintenance places he'd stayed in before and the effect of homemade furnishings and décor. Whatever the reason, the familiarity eased his mind enough to step inside the homey atmosphere.
Chancing a skeptical glance at his surroundings, he definitely began to feel right at home. Country and cozy described the room to a tee. Dozens of colorful quilts laid out on old but sturdy chairs and two comfortable couches, one white with blue flowers and the other a tan and yellow plaid. Through the open door on other side of the room, Jonny could just make out an equally old-looking dining table and several wooden chairs settled around it. Every single one of them had a different design carved into it and they were all of varying pale colors. Mismatched was definitely the perfect word for them.
Everything was mismatched, actually. There was no obvious theme visible at any point in the room, except for comfort and relaxation. Although he did notice a pair of matching lavender ottomans. Well, he thought they matched... until he spied the opposing colors of the feet and trim. To say the least, interesting simply wasn't a good enough word to describe the place.
"Can I help you, son?" came a deep, gravelly voice from his left.
Jonny jumped, inwardly cursing his own absentmindedness. That was the kind of move that would have gotten him killed in adventures past.
Turning around, he found himself looking at a middle-aged man in dark khakis and a brown button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His face was friendly enough and his eyes beheld a certain warmth despite the fact they were the color of a steel gray cloud. Remarkably, the man had a full head of obsidian hair to offset his unusual eyes. He stared at his latest visitor with a cautious look, however, and the silence became a bit thick. Jonny could only assume him to be the owner.
"Uh, I'm sorry," Jonny replied sheepishly, a nervous shrug betraying his tension. "The place kind of reminded me of home and I got a bit lost in thought..."
It was true enough, Jonny supposed, except for the fact he didn't feel like mentioning that the 'home' he compared it to was a combination of every travel spot he'd ever had occasion to stay at. This only deepened the man's suspicious expression, so Jonny kept on in the hopes of redeeming his stupidity. "Anyway, I was hoping to stay in area for a few days. The attendant at the gas station back in town recommended you to me."
Much to Jonny's surprise, mentioning the equally cautious attendant immediately put the black-haired man at ease.
"You must mean Ryan," he commented casually, waving Jonny over to a small counter space far on the left side of the room. "No one else likes to work the station this time of night or on a weekend."
"Oh, right," Jonny replied, following his host tentatively to the aforementioned counter. "Ryan. I'm sorry to say I didn't pay attention to his name tag while I was there."
"Ah, most people don't," said the man carelessly, waving away the apologetic words as he rounded the end of the counter and began clicking away at an old IBM computer. As far as Jonny was concerned, the thing was a virtual dinosaur. "They just take his advice and come over to see what we have going on here at the farm. Business is always a little slow this time of year, so Ryan tries to help us out where he can... April in New Hampshire can be a little tricky for most vacationers. The weather can be somewhat unpredictable, I'd say. You must be out for some peace and quiet, rather than recreation."
As the man rambled on about his business and the weather, Jonny found himself relaxing completely and easily responding, "I just needed some time to think. Family troubles, you know?"
"Yes. I might know a little something about that..." The man chuckled somewhat grimly, unless it was Jonny's imagination going into overdrive. "How long do you plan on staying, son?"
"I'm not really sure," Jonny hedged. He had no idea, really. All he knew was that he'd have to take enough time to plan out his immediate future. If he was going to drive all the way to the coast, he needed a game plan before he moved even one suburb past Hillsborough. "How much per night? Oh, and do you have many other lodgers right now?"
"Base charge of one-hundred-and-thirty dollars a night. Meals are another fifteen dollars each. If you decide you want that at a later time, then you can just add it onto your bill and pay at the end of your stay... As far as lodgers are concerned, we've only got one other reservation so far this week, but they won't be arriving until Monday. Taking that into consideration, I can show you around and you can choose your room, if you like."
"Sure," Jonny agreed with another shrug. "That would be great. And... I guess I'll stay for a week, but no meals as of yet."
"A week?" was the man's surprised question.
"Yeah, a week," Jonny absently confirmed, paying more attention to rifling through a black leather wallet he had dug out of his back pocket.
"That's pretty pricey," the man offered up warily, some suspicion creeping back onto his face. "Not too many visitors come around with that much cash in hand. Especially when they don't even know how long they're going to be staying."
Ignoring the question and the growing suspicion, Jonny instead held up his black AmEx card for the man to goggle at. Blinking as though the card might disappear from his sight, the owner finally shook himself from a near stupor, accepting the card and the week-long stay without any further questions.
Once it was all settled and the man came around the counter waving at him to follow, Jonny could only feel relieved the man had not recognized his name or picture.
"Glad to meet you..." Here the man glanced down at the driver's license for a name as he passed it back. "Jonathan."
"Jon," the young man quickly corrected, stuffing the license and credit card back in his full wallet. He obviously couldn't go specifically by Jonny, in case someone else was able to put it together with his appearance, which was not as unlikely as he'd once believed.
"Jon, then," the man smiled a bit grimly again, something Jonny found quite odd. "My name's Daniel. Tomorrow you'll probably see my wife working around the house, as well. But don't worry, she doesn't bite. Much."
Jonny laughed uncertainly, not quite sure how to take Daniel as of yet. The man seemed serious for the most part, but half of the comments he made were some of the driest the young man had ever heard. Hoping very much that Daniel was the kind of person who grew on people after a day or so, Jonny followed him quietly towards the stairs.
Each step through the house led the twenty-one-year-old past the most intriguing little knick-knacks. Aged books lay in every nook and cranny possible, the covers worn and peeling half the time, and a lot of the ornaments were chipped and faded in places. Passing these lackluster bits of history made Jonny feel both exceedingly young and obsessively overdressed. His dark jeans were brand new – a pair Jessie had insisted he buy on their last shopping excursion before the wedding – and his sweater and coat were nearly so.
Four rooms were shown to him, each one different enough to warrant a little bit of decision-making on Jonny's part. Simple black, white, and gray varieties of toile adorned the Kingswood room. The Sarah Bickford Room made a dramatic statement with deep blues, slight hints of violet, and stark white. Sage green and ivory clothed the Dewhurst room in peacefulness. Draped in white gauzy fabrics and outfitted with red-patterned chairs was the Stonewall room, also the room where the other guest would be staying. And the last room, the one that hit Jonny a bit uncomfortably, was the Franklin Pierce room. Goldenrod and muddy brown were much too reminiscent of the warm but neutral colors Benton Quest always favored in his clothing and his home.
Turning swiftly away from the sight and the reminder, Jonny made his way back to the room that had seemed the most inviting, Daniel close on his heels.
"You'll certainly feel peaceful and quiet in the Dewhurst room," Daniel commented, nodding knowledgeably. "Why don't you bring in your luggage while I put together a welcome packet for you."
"Oh, please don't trouble yourself," Jonny interceded quickly. "I don't need it. I'll probably just be staying close at the farm anyway."
"No trouble at all, son," said Daniel assuredly. "We ran out today, so I was going to get started on some more anyhow."
"Oh, okay," the young adventurer conceded, relaxing slightly. "Uh... do you have closets in the rooms?"
Daniel nodded once. "Certainly do. Decent enough to fit a whole wardrobe, so Naomi says. Every room has a private bathroom, too."
"Ah. Right." Lacking anything original to say, Jonny edged his way to the stairs under the scrutinizing gaze of his strange host, until he couldn't stand it anymore and finally rushed down the steps and out to the car.
Fearing what might happen to his luggage if he left any of it outside, Jonny sighed resignedly and set about dragging two or three pieces at a time into the white house and up to his new room. Time-consuming though it was, the young man felt a certain satisfaction when every single suitcase and bag lay innocuously on the floor of the bedroom. Now fairly exhausted, Jonny began to feel every minute he'd been driving that day as if he'd walked rather than drove. Still he moved sluggishly to take out the basic necessities he would use in the morning. It was downright annoying to wake up and have to start unpacking your morning essentials through sleep-clouded senses.
Looking into the pack, however, Jonny abruptly came to conclusion that he might just as well not unpack the bag at all. The only thing in it was a new toothbrush, two packs of mint dental floss, a pack of opened tissues, and a half-empty first aid kit.
"Lovely," he muttered irritably. A shopping trip was the last thing he needed at the moment.
A knock at the open door interrupted his agitated thoughts and he turned from his crouched position as Daniel said, "Got your packet here, son. All the keys you might need are in there with labels."
"Thanks." Jonny remarked with a forced smile. "Listen, could you tell me where I can buy stuff like shampoo, soap, toothpaste, and whatnot around here?"
"Right in the packet," Daniel smiled a bit, tapping the thick pack in his hand. "We put all you might need in here. Clothing, health, food, cars, banks... All of it's there. If you don't find what you need in the packet, you'd have to go outside of Hillsborough to get it."
"Wonderful," Jonny responded sincerely, reaching out for the little bundle with honest gratitude. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," said Daniel. "Have a nice night."
"You too," called the despondent young man as his host left the room and stumped noisily downstairs.
Jonny meant to go and unpack everything, he really did. He meant to change out of his sweater, jeans, coat, and shoes. He meant to brush his teeth with water at the very least, and he certainly meant to shut the door and lock it. Whatever he meant, however, when Jonathan Quest rested for just one moment on the amazingly comfortable bed, he soon found himself nodding off where he sat. After almost unseating himself and knocking his skull on the headboard, Jonny eventually dragged his body to lay across the ivory covers and swiftly fell fast asleep with his arm thrown over his face, the door wide open and the keys still stuck in their little, labeled packets.
A/N: Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed Chapter 1: Left Behind!