Part Four-- Well, it can't be all romance and roses, can it?

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The Future (Real?) Adventures of Jonny Quest

Stormy Weather
a sequel to "Where Do You Start?"
by Winnie Lim

    "We make this work."

    Her voice was sure, her gaze steady.  No more doubts.

    Not for the first time, Jon realized just what a fortunate man he was.  He couldn't think of anything to say, so he simply gathered her into his arms and held her close.  She leaned into him, her arms tight around his back.

    For one while, irrational moment, Jon wished they could live in that moment forever; that it would always be twilight on the beach, and that they didn't have to leave the next morning.

    He felt Jessica sigh against his chest.  "I miss you already," she said, as if she had read his thoughts.

    "Me too," he replied, feeling his throat tighten.  Tomorrow they would depart for their separate  homes.  A thousand miles would stand between them.

    He sighed again, running one hand down his back.  Then she stopped, her eyes looking startled.

    "What?" he said, confused.

    "What's that?" she asked, running two fingers over his shoulderblade.

    "What's what?" he answered.

    She didn't answer, instead moving out of his arms around to his back, and pulled up his shirt.  He heard her take a sharp breath.

    "Jonny, what's this?"  There was horror in her voice.

    He grimaced as she ran gentle fingers over the raised scars, not because they hurt, but because of what had caused them; what he hadn't told her.

    "A scar?" he said, knowing full well that she wouldn't accept that as an answer, but hoping that she would take his brevity as a hint.

    "I meant, how did you get it?" she said patiently, but he heard the edge in her voice.

    He sighed.  "Beirut."

    "Beirut?" she repeated.  "But they've been at peace for the past two years.  This looks fresh."

    "Yeah," he admitted.  "But there were still a few mines here and there.  We were called in to find and defuse them ..."  His voice trailed off.  "I kinda found one that the robot sweepers missed."

    "*Kinda* found one," she said.

    "It caught me in the back," he explained.

    She came around to face him.  "Why didn't you tell me?"

    He sighed.  "Jess, there's a good reason why I don't tell you these things."

    She folded her arms.  *Tell me.  And it better be good.*

    "Because --"  Jon stopped.  "Because I don't want you to worry --"

    She interrupted him.  "But I'm going to worry even more if I know you've been getting hurt and aren't telling me."  Her eyes were troubled.  "It makes me feel like you don't trust me."

    "Don't say that," Jon said, his throat tightening.  "I trust you more than anyone else I've ever known."

    "Well, it doesn't feel that way when you keep things like this from me," Jessica retorted.

    "Jess...I couldn't tell you."

    "Why not?"

    He spoke slowly, choosing each word with care.  "Because I've been -- leaning on you so much over the past ten years that I didn't want you to feel -- obliged -- to care."

    "I don't think of our friendship as an obligation," she told him.  "You're my best friend and I care about you, that's all there is to it."  She looked deeply into his eyes.  "There's something more, isn't there?"

    He felt like she was looking into his soul. That all his secrets were laid bare before her.  He had to tell her the truth.

    "Because... I thought that you could never care for me as much as I  care for you."

    "What?"  Her voice was quiet, weighed down with shock, anger, confusion, pain.  "How could you even think that?"

    "I never had any reason to believe otherwise."  Jon tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but a trace remained at the edges.  He knew she heard it, and her eyes flared.

    "I was always there for you!" Jessica cried. A scattering of raindrops had begun to fall, but she ignored them.  She had thought she understood, but this was -- he had actually -- how dared he think that she didn't care?   "I've always cared about you!"

    "I know you cared!" he replied,  raising his voice as lightning cracked loudly across the sky.  "But you never cared for me the way I wanted you to."

    "You didn't tell me!"  she yelled as the rain grew heavier.  "How was I supposed to know?"

    "How was *I* supposed to know?  You were always mooning after someone else!   First Hadji, and then Sam, and then Charles --"

    "What about Irina?  And Clarice?  And Linda?!" she cut him off angrily.

    "I thought I had no chance with you!"  he shouted above the thunder.  "Do you know how I felt when every week someone told me that you were practically engaged to Sam?"  Water was streaming down his face, and he didn't know if it was rain or tears.

    "I was never engaged to Sam!"  she screamed, partly to drown out the rain, mostly out of anger.

    Jon went on as if he hadn't heard her.  "Or when you told me that Chuck was 'the one'?"

    "You said you were happy for me!"

    "I lied!"

    "There you go again!"  Jessica threw her hands up.

    They glared at each other, ignoring the rain as it poured down on them, soaking them both.

    Jessica screwed up her face, and made a strange sound.  Then another.  Then she lowered her head and wrapped her arms around herself.

    Immediately concerned, Jon placed a hand on her shoulder.  "Jessie, are you okay?  I'm sorry -- I -" Then she raised her head, and he realized she was laughing.

    "What's so funny?" he asked, slightly annoyed.

    "This is the first time in 20 years that we've been completely honest with each other, and we're fighting about it," she replied between gasps of laughter.

    Jon stared at her as if she had gone nuts.  Then the full ludicrousness of their conversation -- fight?  -- dawned on him, and he began to laugh as well.

    The rain had turned the sand to mud, and he stumbled forward.  Jessica caught him, but then her feet slipped as well.  He reached out to steady her.

    She looked up at him.  His eyes locked on hers.  They stared at each other for a long moment.

    She reached up to him as he bent down to her, and they met halfway.

    "I'm sorry," Jon said when they finally drew apart.  "I should have had more faith in you."

    "That's right, you should have," she told him heartlessly.  "And now we know, let's forget it."

    He nodded, and asked sheepishly, "Friends?" holding out a hand.

    She shook it firmly, and then pressed their linked hands to his chest.   "Friends."  She smiled, and leaned forward.  "Maybe a little more than friends..."

    He smiled back, and bent down to her again.

    The rain continued to pour.

    "From one friend to another," Jessica said at last, "it's raining."

     "You know, you're right," Jon said, smiling.  "We'd better get back to thehouse."

    As they started to walk back through the downpour, Jessica said, "...and then you can show me exactly where all the rest of your scars are..."

    Jessica pulled on her robe and rubbed the steam off the bathroom mirror.  Jon had insisted that she take a hot shower before anything else; he didn't want her catching cold, and wouldn't take her most insistent "It can wait"s for an answer.  *He can be so protective,*  she thought, squeezing the water from her hair.  But why was she surprised?  He had always been good at looking out for her, since they were children -- *it's watching out for himself he has trouble with,* she thought, smiling at herself in the mirror.

    She wrapped her hair in a towel, and went downstairs to the living-room.  He was sitting on the floor, looking out the French windows at the still-falling rain.  She stood in the doorway for a moment, just looking at him.  He was also in a bathrobe, and his wet hair stuck out in all directions.  For a moment he looked almost like a boy again.  *Some things never change.*

    At her footfall, Jon turned, and smiled.  She padded towards him and knelt down, draping her arms around his shoulders.  He held her arms for a long moment, and then shifted around, pulling her down to him.  The towel fell from her hair.

    Presently Jon picked up the towel.  Draping it over her head, he began to rub her hair dry, slowly, almost thoughtfully.  She leaned against him, enjoying his gentle touch.

    At length he stopped, and simply held her, resting his cheek on top of her head.

    "Thank you," he said at last.

    She smiled.  "You're welcome.  For what?"

    He shifted to face her.  "For ..."  For feeling the same way.  For your friendship.  For saving my life.  For letting me save yours. For understanding.

    "For being there.

    "For being you."

    "You sound like a greeting card," she told him, her cheeks flushing.

    "Get used to it," he said, "'cos  there's twenty-five years of material where that came from."

    "Twenty-five years?"

    He nodded.

    "That long?"

    He nodded, looking sheepish.

    Jessica opened her mouth, prepared to ask "Why didn't you tell me?" but realized it would be redundant.  Instead, she let the corners of her mouth turn up, and murmured, "For someone with a mouth as big as yours, you can sure keep a secret."

    Jon rolled his eyes.  "Already you slight me."

    She grinned.  "Get used to it."

    "Oh, I already am," he sighed with mock resignation.  She chuckled, and kissed him lightly.  He returned her kiss, with interest.

    Then he grew serious.  "It won't be easy."

    "I know.  We'll handle it," she reminded him.

    "And we'll have to be careful," he said.  "It could get dangerous..."  His voice trailed off.  She knew what he meant.

    "Since when has that ever stopped us before?" she asked.  Her tone was flippant, but her eyes were serious.

    He smiled, and said, "I love you."

    "I know," she said.

    Something in the back of his mind reminded him that she hadn't replied in kind, but then he looked into her eyes again and decided that it wasn't important.  She knew that he loved her.  That was all he had ever wanted, and he was content for now.  He gathered her into his arms and held her close, and they watched the rain fall.

...to be continued...

© 1997 Winnie Lim