From: "Nova C. M." Disclaimer: The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest and all related names, places, people, junk, etc, do not belong to me and are properties of HB. Please do not sue because I am still striving to raise enough money to pay for a chocolate bar... Categories: V, F, A, JQ/JB HR, JQ/Other HR Rating: G Authors note- In a futile attempt to get rid of the massive case of Mike Green in my cluttered brain, I wrote this short fic. Its inspired by a real life situation, and since this real life situation is really, really depressing, I thought maybe I should write something similar to it, but less depressing, to get it out of my system. Also, I know some people out there dislike first-person stories, and I totally understand, but please note that it is much easier to get inside a persons head that way. Finally, due to the potential in this particular universe I have created, watch out for sequels to Sacrifice. Good reading to yall! Sacrifice -by Nova He has absolutely no idea. No clue at all. Its never going to change. The simple hello. The curt goodbye. Unnecessary, for I have already lost him spiritually, and yet necessary, so as not to lose him physically as well. He greets me as cheerfully as possible every day, always placing a lingering hand on my arm, then always moving on, his newfound happiness showing plainly on his boyish face, in his sparkling blue eyes, glowing around him like a heavenly light. I am happy for his happiness, but unhappy for myself, for my sadness. How can I be happy for myself if his joy does not include me? Am I selfish in the sense that I want his happiness to be mine? No. Im not jealous of his contentment. Im jealous and hateful and contemplating suicide because Im not the one who gave him the precious gift of happiness. Im not the one who puts the smile on his face whenever he sees me. Im not the one who has the ability to cheer him up on a bad day just by making a phone call. Im not the one he chooses for a shoulder to cry on. Im not the one who makes him happy. Im just not the one. Salutations in the mornings and adieux in the evenings are a perpetual routine that he has unknowingly established, and in making this routine, he has unconsciously urged the creation of an impenetrable barrier between him, the diligent businessman, and me, his ambitious, stone-faced colleague. The asphyxiating repetition of short, meaningless conversations between us in the workplace has become the only portion, an infinitesimal fraction, of my universe that involves him. And though I realize that it will eventually destroy me, I cannot let it go. For in doing so, I must also let him go, out of my life. But I cant live without the other half of my soul. I have no other option, none but silent suffering. He is my best friend after all. My best friend since childhood, my best friend in life, my best friend in existence. How can someone let go of her best friend? He still greets me every day, out of a habit, of course. He says hello, not knowing the effect that his smooth voice has on my fragile heart. Not knowing how one simple smile from him could drive me crazy. Not knowing that a casual touch of his hand on my shoulder could shock more than a hundred thousand volts of electricity. I do know what he thinks and how he feels. I can read him like an open book; its an asset that I never will forget. He believes I dont care about him anymore. He believes I blame him for the bad things that happened to me. He believes that I hold him responsible for the death of my father, nine years ago. I was only seventeen then. But even at the time of the unfortunate mishap that finally finished off the great Race Bannon, I didnt have the heart to blame him. Cant he see? Doesnt he know? Its as obvious as the sky is blue. I do love him. I do care. I dont blame him for what he could not have prevented. That incident nine years ago was the time when I realized that maybe, just maybe, I had fallen for my best friend. Its one of those feelings that a person holds inside, unaware that its even there, until it grows so strong that suddenly the person identifies what that nagging feeling in the back of her head was. I am that person. I dont know when that feeling had planted itself within me, but by the time I figured it was there, one of the most painful things that could happen to a person in love found its way to ruin my life. He was in love with someone else. On the night that I first acted out my confession to him in the mirror, on the night that he suddenly came home from Prague, he broke my heart and was unable to repair it. He hadnt known it was broken, and he still doesnt know that he had broken it in the first place. It was unfortunate that I hadnt had time to dress up fashionably; all my clothes save a few were in the washer. But his arrival was quite the unexpected- impressing him with looks was out of the question. Wearing an impromptu outfit consisting of torn jeans and a simple, green T-shirt, I excitedly rushed to greet him on the first floor of the Quest Compound, a small smile of disquietude on my face. I was actually the first to reach the door. Hadji, as if cautious, made little attempt to open the door when he heard the announcement of Jonnys arrival. Dr. Quests actions were almost identical to his adopted sons, and for a moment, I felt as if they knew something that I didnt. I felt as if I was an outcast, as if my dad had been my only connection to the Quests, as if I wasnt a part of the group anymore, and never was a part of it. The room seemed to grow dimmer as I neared the front door. I was in the dark, all right. God, it hurt. Flinging the door open and preparing to give Jonny the hug of his life, I came to a screeching halt. Jonathan Benton Quest stood on the front porch, tall, gorgeous as ever, in an Armani. Jonny and Armani could never have been in the same equation, and yet here he was. His arm was around that girl from Eastern Europe, wearing a sophisticated outfit that made me look like a rag doll in comparison. Irena pianowhatserface whom wed met years ago. In the arms of the one man who was beginning to have a reputation as the next Race Bannon. Its depressing, but time nullifies the sadness that comes with painful revelations involving the fickle human heart. He had spent one week in Prague. Could he have fallen that fast? I was praying that my eyes had deceived me, or perhaps she was actually one of the Zin twins disguised as Irena. There is no such luck. There is nothing good in this world, my world. It hurts so much. Perhaps I had mulled over the possibility that I was in love with Jonny, so much that I had somehow brainwashed myself into believing the lie. Perhaps I had fooled myself into seeing things in his actions that were not really there. Saving my life did not necessarily mean he was crazy about me. Jonny, the macho hero that he has become, would do the same for anyone and everyone whose life was in danger. Perhaps I had created a fantasy so believable that it was actually palpable. Perhaps I had distorted every piece of reality to make it fit into the spaces of the jigsaw puzzle within the depths of my mind. The jigsaw puzzle that was quite far from the truth. Nightmares are bad. But dreams are usually nice. Calming. Enjoyable. Often hilariously twisted. But still containing some truthful aspect of the real thing. I had never thought that there was a side to dreams that could cause pain, because if dreams were good, why would I feel bad? Now I knew there was a different side to dreams. If you dont get what you want, youll feel bad too. Its a normal human reaction. God, it hurt. I always read too much into things anyway. I dreamed of a happy life, not necessarily the usual two- story house, two-car garage, 2.5 children, 1 dog, average American life. This was a life filled with action, adventure, romance, and danger, but we would face this danger together. Together we could triumph over anything. Dad always said Jonny and I made a great team. Not just good. *Great*. Dad, I wish Jonny had heard what you said. I wish Jonny had heard what I had to say that fateful night. But that night, my heart was crushed. I had never felt physical pain as intense or as life-altering. I dont blame Jonny. He had nothing to do with my silly girlish whims, and he had no idea they even included him. He didnt even know that he was breaking my heart because he was smiling at me, grinning like a Cheshire cat, declaring his engagement to Irena. Pain. So much pain that it still throbs within my chest until now. He was only seventeen! He couldnt be engaged already. But good old pertinacious Jonny Quest had made up his mind and he was not going to budge for an earthquake. And I had previously believed that men were unable to make solid decisions! Of course, Jonny isnt exactly the typical man whos into power tools and football and the backyard grill with a chef hat and a kiss-the-cook apron. Jonny is unique, special, the only one of his kind. But I felt that we were kindred spirits. The connection had always been there, and though Jonny is forever bonded with someone else, the connection between us is still there. Between us. It is so strong that any onlooker could practically see the link. But between Jonny and his wife? Nothing. Empty air. A whole lot of hydrogen and oxygen and chlorofluorocarbons and a mixture of other gases, perhaps, but nothing more. The connection between them is physical attraction, and both Jonny and Irena are trying to form a real, spiritual link between them. It took Jonny and me three seconds to achieve the goal he is presently striving for, and he wont admit that it was ever there. Not even to Hadji, who had asked Jonny how he felt about me. It was a generous favor that the sultan of Bangalore had done for me, though it yielded no result. And now that I think of it, Hadji, always the anchor, has steadily held me on firm ground throughout all these years. He has kept me from going over the edge. If I were to lose Hadji, then I would probably look to Dr. Quest as the last person to have a grip on me before I topple over the cliff of sanity. Jonny has no idea. None whatsoever. I can hear the results of my own autopsy being uttered by a nameless, faceless doctor.  Im sorry, Mr. Quest, but your best friend has gone mad for no apparent reason, unless you count Cupids arrow and your actions breaking her heart, and then she threw herself off Sears Tower so she could have time to say her last prayers. Its funny, but close to the truth. The connection that Jonny and I share is slowly being hidden by work, by pain, by guilt. It is a sad loss, because this connection is one of the rarest things on this earth, and we are throwing it away for no good reason. Other people take a lifetime to find their other half, and in our case, it was handed to us on a silver platter. We rejected the offer. Actually, I rejected it by not telling him how I feel, and he rejected it by having an infatuation with Irena, then tricking himself into marrying her. To be honest, Irena Quest doesnt sound so pretty. It sounds like  I ran a quest. Jessica Quest sounds good. Ive said it so many times in the recesses of my mind that it has become music to my ears. Jonny seems to be happy, however. Extremely happy. True, he doesnt have as many adventures as he once did, but by the spring in his step and the relentless lopsided grin on his face, I can tell his mood is soaring into new heights. I can conclude that he is content based on the five minutes I see him at work every day. I can conclude that he is happy based on a grin and a hello and a goodbye. Based on how are you, Dr. Bannon and hows life, Jessica. I would tell him that life sucks, even though Im free of my adolescent years. I would tell him that I have endless moments in which I would like to drink some poison and lie down and sleep and wait for the effects of the poison to take place. I would tell him that I love him and I want him to ride off with me into the sunset, and that Irena would be fine with that Miloch guy who died years ago, and we and they were made for each other. But no. Its not fair to sacrifice his happiness for mine. Im not even sure what he would say or do in light of what I truly feel. But since he is happy, then I suppose I should be happy too. And since five minutes is all I will ever have to look forward to every day, then I suppose I will have to cherish those priceless few moments as much as possible. No matter how much it hurts, I suppose ten years of my grief is worth one minute of his happiness. The sacrifice is worth it. The End? All feedback is appreciated. VERY appreciated, VERY needed. *Essential* for the survival of the writers mind. Please??? Just send comments to nova247@hotmail.com _______________________________________________________________ Get Free Email and Do More On The Web. Visit http://www.msn.com ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Have you visited the new ONElist home page lately? http://www.ONElist.com ONElist: The Leading e-mail list and community service on the Internet!