From: raoul1@advant.com (Kluge, Deborah)

This story is a vignette that goes with my Jealousy series.  It occurs
during the time of the main action for the sequel to "Battlefield" and
was written for one simple reason . . . I love this song.


March 18, 1999

Disclaimer:  See Below
Category:  A, HR (sort of), M, V, F (I think that's all of them)
Rating:  PG
Archivers:  Please contact me directly first.
Synopsis:  We all have our choices to make . . .

THE REAL ADVENTURES OF JONNY QUEST

Full of Grace
by
Debbie Kluge


"Well, well.  Isn't this a surprise?" It required an almost superhuman
effort for Jade Kenyon to keep her voice even and the expression on her
face pleasant.  "I suppose I should say 'congratulations'."  But in all
the years she had known him, she'd never been able to fool this man
easily.  Now, Race Bannon eyed her with an uncertain expression.

"I know this is unexpected, Jade, but I had hoped you would be happy for
me."

Jade gazed at the white-haired man sitting across from her for a long
moment before she responded, "Of course I'm happy for you, Race.  What
makes you think I'm not?"

Race returned her look evenly and replied, "Because I know you, Jade.
I've known you for a long time.  And I can tell that you're upset."

Don't be ridiculous!" she said, a trifle sharply.  Then she laughed and
relaxed back into her chair.  She was in control, the devil-may-care
mask firmly in place once again.  "I will admit that you surprised me.
I would have thought once was enough.  You really must be a glutton for
punishment."

"This isn't funny."

"Of course it is, darling!"  That old, taunting tone was back in her
voice . . . the one that used to just drive him to distraction.  "I find
it absolutely hilarious."

"Why?"

Jade eyed the man for a moment, disconcerted.  It wasn't the question
she had been expecting.  Finally, she said, "You forget.  I was around
the last time everything went to hell."

"It's not going to go to hell this time."

"Of course it isn't, darling," she replied in that mocking tone.  "This
time everything is going to be absolutely perfect."  She rose leisurely
and stretched.  Race was sharply reminded of a cat.  "Well, I should be
on my way."

"Stick around," Race urged her, suddenly reluctant to see her leave.
"We haven't talked in a long time, and I know Estella would be pleased
to see you again."

Jade laughed once, a short, sharp sound that contained very little
humor, and shook her head.  "I very much doubt it.  Your blushing
bride-to-be doesn't like me very much.  I think it's better for both of
us if I'm good and far away from here before she arrives."  Jade picked
up her coat and shrugged into it as she continued, "It was pure chance
that I saw you sitting in the window.  I was here on business and was
taking one final stroll through New York before heading to the airport
to return home again.  But, somehow, I don't think Estella would buy
that."

Race looked at her with a frown on his face, but let the comment go.
"Where's home these days, Jade?"

"Bangkok" she replied shortly as she buttoned her long, black leather
coat.

"Still in Bangkok, huh?  After your house was destroyed the last time we
were there, I figured you had probably moved on."

"Whatever for?  Business was still good, and they never did pin anything
on me for the theft of that artifact."  She shrugged eloquently.
"Climate was still good for business, so I stuck around."  She reached
into her pockets and pulled out a pair of black leather gloves and began
to pull them on.

"Don't you ever get tired of it all, Jade?  Of having to watch your back
all of the time?  Of all of the wheeling and dealing?  Don't you ever
just want to call it quits?"

Jade Kenyon gave Race that seductive, secretive smile that had been her
sole legacy to him over more years than he cared to count and replied,
"Quit?  But, darling, what fun would that be?  You have a nice life,
lover boy."  She turned and began to walk away, tossing one more comment
over her shoulder as she opened the door, "You know how to find me . . .
if you ever want to."  The door closed with a quiet finality and Race
Bannon watched the black-hair woman dart across the busy street and
disappear into the gathering darkness.  He stared after her for a while,
thinking about the many years he had known her, and yet how very little
he actually knew.

Jade was a complete mystery.  Over the years, he had talked with a lot
of people who knew her . . other agents, government leaders, street
thugs, business associates, neighbors, and even small children.  All of
them had things to say . . . some kind, some not.  And there were as
many stories about her background as there were people who had met her.
But no one ever knew where she came from or who she really was.  Race
snorted softly to himself.  Hell, he didn't even know if "Kenyon" was
her real name or one she took for herself.

He knew agents that had refused to work with her . . . a few had even
tried to have her jailed.  But Race never saw the point in that.  Jade
was too valuable as an information resource to be locked up.  Those same
agents had called her dangerous and unreliable.  Race disagreed.
Dealing with Jade was simple . . . you just had to remember one thing.
In any situation, Jade would always go in the direction that served her
own best interests.  As long as you saw to it that your interests ran
with hers, she was wholly reliable.  But let her interests cross
purposes with yours, and you could guarantee that she would be gone.

Finally, he shook his head.  No, Jade Kenyon would never change. Jade
was Jade.  It was the only thing you could say for certain.  She was a
free spirit . . . a wild thing that could never be pinned down.  He
supposed that for a long time it was her wildness that he found
attractive.  Not that it mattered now.  The soft jingling of a bell cut
across his reveries.  He looked up to see Estella come through the
door.  Her face was flushed from the cold and her flaming red hair wind
blown.  Across the room, their eyes met and she smiled.

"Have a nice life, Jade," he murmured softly, and then put her out of
his mind completely.

*******

Across the street, sheltered in the darkness of a nearby alley, Jade
watched as Race helped Estella remove her coat and settle into the seat
Jade had recently occupied.  They laughed and talked easily, their
attention totally focused on the other.  Once, she saw him laugh and say
something to her.  For an instant, her smile faltered and her head bowed
slightly.  Race leaned forward instantly, frowning in concern.  He
caught her hand in his and spoke to her urgently.  She shook her head
slightly and murmured something back.  Race spoke to her again and then
used his free hand to reach out and touch her cheek gently.  Jade
watched as he placed his fingers under her chin and tilted the red head
up until their gazes locked.  Race said something else to her softly,
and then raised the hand to his lips and kissed it gently.  She smiled
at him again, a bit shakily, and then drew his hand to her and caressed
the back of it gently with her cheek.

Abruptly, Jade turned from the scene and fled down the alley.  She moved
instinctively in the blackness, avoiding obstacles without even
realizing she was doing so.  At the opposite end of the alley, she
emerged and turned to her right, moving down the street and blending in
with the crowds on the sidewalk.  For a while, she moved with apparent
determination, as though late to an appointment, winding her way deeper
into the city center and darting easily among the throng.  Finally,
something caught her eye and she faltered.  After a quick look around
her, she darted to her right, and descended a short flight of narrow
stairs.  The old building had a wrought iron fence along the edge of the
well that formed the landing for the entrance to the establishment.  In
the window to the right of the door, a subdued sign read "Midnight
Blues".  She checked fractionally, staring blindly at the sign, then
turned and pushed open the door.  Cold, winter air followed her in.

Jade stopped just inside the door and surveyed her surroundings.  The
place was long and somewhat narrow.  To her left, a long bar with stools
lined one wall.  Behind the bar, a huge mirror hung, making the room
feel both bigger and more crowded.  Out from the bar there were tables
scattered in random patterns throughout the room.  At the far end, was a
stage.  Sitting on the platform, Jade could see a drum kit, a couple of
guitars, a three-tiered keyboard, and miscellaneous sound equipment.
Currently, there were no people on the stage, and it was brightly
illuminated by overhead lights.  Squinting against the glare, she could
just see the sound station.  It, too, was empty.  Even at this
relatively early hour, there were a fair number of people seated at
tables scattered throughout the rest of the room, but they all ignored
her as she scanned the crowd.  A veil of smoke hung in the air.  As she
inhaled, she caught familiar odors . . . the acrid smell of cigarettes,
the sour smell of alcohol, the sweet, distinctive smell of marijuana,
and the cloying scent that said opium.  She knew there would be other
substances here, as well . . . many of them more deadly than the ones
she could readily identify . . . heroin . . . cocaine . . . angel dust .
. .  She knew places like this . . . she'd seen too many of them in her
life . . . and some part of her felt at home here.  Her mind suddenly
reeled as it attempted to adjust from the scene in the café to this
murky den.

Turning, she strode to the bar.  She pulled off her gloves and coat and
tossed them onto a nearby chair and climbed onto a barstool facing the
mirror.  She avoided looking at the reflection there, not entire sure
she would recognize the person she would see.  The bartender shambled
over to her, flipping his bar towel over one shoulder as he came up.

"What'll ya have?'

"Whiskey . . . straight up."

The man turned and snared a bottle from among the many sitting in front
of the mirror.  Deftly, he upended it and allowed the golden liquid to
splash into a glass.  Setting it down on the bar in front of her, he
said,

"Three bucks."

Jade tossed a twenty dollar bill on the bar without a word, picked up
the glass, and drained it in one long draught.  She smacked it down on
the bar, gasping as the raw alcohol carved a river of fire down her
throat and into her stomach.

"Again."

Her voice sounded strange in her own ears.  The bartender raised an
eyebrow, but didn't say a word.  Turning, he reached for the bottle.

"And make it something other than rotgut this time."

The man hesitated, then moved down the bar and picked up a new bottle.
He broke the seal on it, picked up her old glass, tossed it into the
nearby sink, and filled a new one.

Jade took it from him and downed the contents neatly.  She shuddered as
the fumes filled her head.

"Better.  Again."

He refilled the glass and, in a neutral tone, said,

"It's gonna be a hard morning, lady, you keep that up all night."

Jade laughed harshly.

"Yeah, well, the nighttime ain't so great, either.  You just keep them
coming, my friend, and let me worry about tomorrow morning."

Behind her, she heard movement and turned sharply.  She saw a man with
long shaggy hair move to the sound console and settle down behind it.
Three men had taken their places on stage.  One picked up a guitar and
plucked the strings idly, his head turned to better hear the sounds it
produced.  He fiddled with a tuning knob briefly and then plucked the
strings again experimentally.  Another man tapped an impatient rhythm on
the head of one of his drums, fidgeting.  The last one settled down in
front of the keyboards and waited patiently.  After a few minutes, a
fourth man suddenly appeared from a door behind the stage carrying a
large string bass with him.  He crossed the stage easily and settled
comfortably onto a high stool.  As the lights dimmed, the four men began
to play.  The sound was slow and melancholy with a complex rhythm.

Jade turned back to the bar, watching them in the mirror.  She chuckled
to herself softly and without much humor.  A band that played jazz and
blues . . . how fitting.  It suited her mood tonight.

Time seemed to fade as she sat at that bar, drinking and brooding.  On
occasion, someone would approach her, but she brushed them off.  She
wasn't in the mood to be social.  Some part of her mind knew that this
was dangerous.  She was drinking to get seriously drunk . . . to
obliterate her past . . . the pain . . . the loneliness . . .   And she
knew that this wasn't a luxury she could afford.  It could get her dead,
very easily.  But she did it all the same.  The bar was chosen at random
and on a split second decision.  And she was sure she hadn't been
followed.  Those safeguards would have to be enough.



        The winter here's cold and bitter,
        it's chilled us to the bone.


Some part of her mind registered the words . . . a change in her
surroundings.  She lifted her eyes to the mirror.  A woman stood in the
center of the stage in front of a microphone.  Her dark hair framed a
pale face that was bathed in blue light, but the rest of her body seemed
to disappear, lost in the shadows of this murky place . . . almost as
though she was a ghost.  Jade was suddenly confused, unsure whether the
image was real or a reflection of herself.

Cold.  Yes, she was cold.  Her eyes fell again to the glass in her
hand.  It was empty.  Empty, like the way she felt.  She signaled the
bartender for a refill again and saw him hesitate.  Then, reluctantly,
he approached and refilled her glass.  But she didn't drink from it.
She just sat, staring into the amber liquid.


        We haven't seen the sun for weeks,
        too long, too far from home.


Her mouth twisted in a bitter smile.  She had lied to Race.  It hadn't
been chance that she had run into him.  She had been looking for him . .
. had gone hunting, had found he was going to be in New York, and had
tracked him down to that café.  She had planned to tell him about what
was going on with her.  Tell him that she wasn't living in Bangkok any
longer.  At least not for the last two or three months.  Things had
gotten too hot for her there.  She got out, just one step ahead of the
cops.  She lifted the glass and took a swallow.  Always just one step
ahead . . . of the cops, of the people she scammed, sometimes even of
those people she'd allied herself to.


        I feel just like I'm sinking,
        and I claw for solid ground.


But always one step ahead.  That was the name of the game, right?  It's
how you stayed on top.  But this time it had been too close.  She'd
almost been caught and she needed a place she could go for a while . . .
somewhere she could feel safe.  She was so tired.  And she had thought
of Race Bannon.


        I'm pulled down by the undertow,
        I never thought I could feel so low,
        and, oh, darkness, I feel like letting go.


She closed her eyes at the sudden wash of pain.  She had never been able
to understand how he could be so good at seeing through her.  To know
what she was thinking.  How had he known she was thinking of quitting?
Or had it been a lucky guess?


        If all of the strength and all of the courage
        come and lift me from this place.


The memories she tried so hard to suppress kept coming back to her.
Those devil-may-care blue eyes that would darken almost to sapphire when
he was concerned or angry.  The confidence that kept you from doubting
that you would survive the worst situation.  The unconscious sensuality
of the way he moved.  The feel of his hands and mouth . . . Damn, damn,
damn, damn. She snatched up the glass and drained it.  Don't think about
him.  He won't ever come again.


        I know I can love you much better than this
        Full of grace, Full of grace, my love.


She did love him.  She knew that . . . had known it for a long time.  In
some part of her mind, she thought that she always considered him her
final salvation.  The one man that probably could have changed her.  She
used to laugh at his high moral principles . . . told him he was in the
wrong line of work.  She never really expected that he would take the
analysis to heart and quit.  But he had.

She remembered the last time she had seen him before he had quit at
I-1.  He had come looking for her . . . not on business . . . just
looking for her.  As a woman.  And he had stayed for a couple of weeks.
Said he was coming up for an assignment and life had been a bit rough
for him recently so they had given him some time off before sending him
in again.  He hadn't wanted to talk about it . . . had just needed a
place to stay and a sympathetic companion.


        It's better this way,
        I said,
        having seen this place before.


She had known he was married . . . or thought she did.  It took her a
while to get it out of him . . . that the marriage had crumbled, leaving
behind not only an ex-wife, but a daughter, as well.  He was hurting and
vulnerable.  She could have had him then.  She had known it then and she
knew it now.  It wouldn't have taken much to have bonded him to her.


        Where everything we say and do,
        hurts us all the more.


But something had stopped her . . . some instinctive knowledge that told
her that it was wrong to do that to him.  She had seen it happen before
and knew how tragic the results could be.  So, in the end, she had told
him that it was better that he return, and had sent him back to I-1.

But today she found herself wondering if she had been wrong about that
decision.  She could fight for him now.  Their past could provide the
weapon she needed to shatter his relationship with Estella for good.
And she also knew she could do it in such a way, that he would turn back
to her again.  And this time, she could see to it that she held him.


        It's just that we stayed too long
        in the same old sickly skin,


She raised her head and stared at her reflection in the mirror, as the
lyrics to the song echoed in her alcohol-soaked brain.  Yes, too long.
She had been who she was for too long to change.  And she knew the man
well enough to know that he could never live the kind of life she
lived.  There were just too many skeletons in her past . . . skeletons
that even he knew nothing about.  And one day, they would catch up with
her.  She knew that, too.  It was inevitable.  And if they were
together, those skeletons would pull him down with her.


        and I'm pulled down by the undertow,
        I never thought I could feel so low,
        and, oh, darkness, I feel like letting go.


She closed her eyes on the woman in the mirror.  Slowly, she looked
inward at that revelation.  It was time to let it go.  It was a child's
dream . . . the age-old idea of the knight in shining armor.


        If all of the strength and all of the courage
        come and lift me from this place.


It would probably be the hardest thing she would ever do, but she knew
it was right.  Walk away now . . . with grace . . . as friends . . . and
leave him to a woman who loved him and didn't live in the shadows.


        I know I can love you much better than this
        Full of grace, Full of grace, my love.


She loved him with all of her heart.  And she would let him go.  It was
her wedding gift to him.


        I know I can love you much better than this,



She opened her eyes and smiled at the woman in the mirror.  Yes, she
could live with this choice.

The bartender approached her with the bottle, but she shook her head at
him.

"I've had enough."

She almost laughed at his look of relief.

"How about a cup of coffee, then?"

She glanced in the mirror, taking in the smoky atmosphere, dim light,
and clandestine feel of the place.  Yes, this was her place . . . the
life she was born to.  She looked again at the bartender standing in
front of her.  He was young . . . younger than she had thought at first
glance.  And not bad looking.  Jade cocked her head and smiled at him
slowly.

"Sure.  I think I'd like that.  What's your name, anyway?"

"Joe," he replied, setting a large brown mug in front of her and filling
it from a steaming pot.

"So, tell me, Joe, what do you do for entertainment around here?"

Behind her, the dying sound of the song filled her head, confirming her
choice.


        it's better this way.



THE END

"Full of Grace", Sarah McLachlan, 1997, Sony/ATV Songs LLC/Tyler Music,
from Surfacing by Sarah McLachlan.

(c) 1999  Debbie Kluge


DISCLAIMER: The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest and all characters,
logos, and likenesses therein, are trademarks of and copyrighted by
Hanna-Barbera Productions, Inc., and Hanna-Barbera Cartoons, Inc., a
Turner company. No copyright infringement is intended by their use on
this page. I and this story are in no way affiliated with, approved of
or endorsed by Hanna Barbera or Turner Productions. This story is
created by a fan for other fans out of love and respect for the show,
and is strictly a non-profit endeavor.
--
Debbie Kluge

If the women don't find you handsome, at least they'll find you handy.

  ***** Red Green



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