No song this time. The title is from the fifth line of William 
Shakespeare's Sonnet #116 (Let me not to the marriage of true 
minds Admit impediments., etc.).  As usual, comments, flames, pies 
and falafel are all welcome.  You know the disclaimer spiel, so I'll 
spare you.

--------

The Future (Real?) Adventures of Jonny Quest

"An Ever-Fixed Mark"
Another sequel to "Where Do You Start" and "For The First Time"
by Winnie Lim


"So what do we do now?"

Jessica opened her mouth to reply, but stopped. She closed her mouth 
instead, and allowed herself to drown in his eyes as they studied her 
intently.  In them, she saw a swirling maelstrom of emotions - joy, 
wonder, shyness, doubt, hope, and many more that she couldn't identify 
-- but above them all, love.

She wished she had an answer.

In spite of everything, she was happy in Houston.  She had a good career -
her consultant firm was finally taking off and getting the big contracts -
a beautiful apartment, and a circle of friends. True, the nights were 
sometimes lonely, but she took them in stride.

She also knew that he would never ask her to give it up for him.  He 
had been her biggest supporter when she'd decided to break away from 
the stifling confines of a multinational communications technology 
corporation.  He knew how much work she had put into building up her 
business from the few clients who had followed her.  Heaven knew 
they'd spent enough long hours on the phone over the past four years, 
talking into the wee hours of the morning as she shared her frustrations, 
her doubt, and her small triumphs with him.

She could talk with him about anything.  That was the facet of their 
relationship that she held most dear.  That was how she knew that 
this was right, that this was meant to be.  There was nothing that 
they couldn't handle as long as they were together.

And then there was the nature of his work.  He was the brains behind 
the anti-terrorism think tank he had founded six years before, and 
she knew he had single-handedly foiled more than a dozen terrorist 
threats over those six years -- a record that had placed him on the 
hit list of several terrorist organizations. Half the time she didn't 
know where he was, and she knew he couldn't tell her, but he always 
called her regularly by audiophone, no matter where he was.  They 
couldn't talk by videophone -- it was impossible to have a totally 
secure line on those things - but she could sense the fatigue in his 
voice as he talked nonchalantly about such minor inconveniences as 
having to take a different route to work every day.

It was the very same thing that had - saved her?  no, that wasn't fair -
kept her from having Jezebel Jade as a stepmother.  Over the years, 
she and Jade had kept in contact, and she had come to know a side of 
the older woman that wasn't immediately evident.  She knew that Jade 
was often very lonely, though the woman would never admit it.  The
one time they'd actually talked about it - around it, rather - Jade had 
said that emotional involvements brought "too much trouble" to all 
concerned, and that the lack of them was a small price to pay for being 
the best in the business.  She had then quickly changed the subject.  But 
Jessica hadn't missed the wistful note in the older woman's voice.

Jon wasn't like Jade. He was ruthless when it came to tracing and 
tracking the terrorists he had sworn to eradicate.  But underneath the 
determination, he was sensitive and giving, always putting others 
ahead of himself.  That was why, Jessica knew, he had not told her
about the attempt on his life in Madagascar.

She recalled the night before she left for Florida, just 48 hours before.  
She'd called her father to tell him that she'd be out of town for the 
weekend.  When he'd heard where she was going and who she would 
meet there, he had fallen silent.  She saw him bite his lip.

Then he'd spoken again, slowly.  "Jessie, try not to be too shocked 
when you see him."

"What do you mean?" she'd asked.  Her father had a strange look on his 
face.

"Do you remember -- a few weeks ago?   When Jonny was out of contact 
for a while?"  Her father still called them by their childhood names, 
and it was unlikely that he'd ever be broken of the habit.

"Yes.  He told me he was at a Buddhist temple in Tibet.  Rearranging 
his karma, he said," she'd replied, smiling.

Another long pause.  Then, "Jessie, he wasn't in Tibet.  He was in the 
hospital."

"What?" Her knees were suddenly weak, and she had had to sit down.  
"Why?"

"He was in Madagascar, consulting on a terrorism case.  Someone put 
a bomb in his car."

"Oh my God..."

"He wasn't in it when it went up," her father had said quickly.  "But he 
was pretty close.  They didn't think he was going to make it at first, 
so they called his grandfather."

"Yes.  Of course," Jessica said numbly.  Doug Wildey was Jon's sole 
surviving relative and therefore his next-of-kin.

"It was touch and go for a while, but he pulled through," Race went on.  
"He got pretty banged up, though.  So he might not be in the best of 
shape when you see him."

"I understand," she said.  "Thanks for telling me, Dad."

"Try not to be too hard on him, honey.  He asked me not to tell you. 
Even Hadji doesn't know."

She'd nodded, and they moved on to other subjects.  But she was deeply 
shaken.  And not for the first time, she'd wondered why Jon had chosen 
such a dangerous line of work.

It certainly wasn't for the money;  Benton Quest had invested wisely, 
and Jon was a billionaire several times over.  He could easily have 
chosen to live a life of idle luxury.  But he had dedicated his life -
literally -- to helping to keep the world safe for others.

She had no doubt that becoming involved with him would put her own 
life at risk.  And she knew he realized that too; that was why he had 
held off from telling her how he felt for so long.  Once again, as usual, 
he'd put her ahead of himself.

That was typical Jonny Quest.  That was how he was different from 
people like Jade.  That was why he often reminded her of her own father.

That was why, she realized for the first time, she had always loved 
him.

All of which brought her back to where they stood now.  She was a 
little surprised to realize that only a few seconds had passed since 
he'd asked her the question.

And she finally had an answer for him.

"We make this work."


Not Yet The End

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© 1997 Winnie Lim