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The Misadventures of Jonny Quest	By : RoseOSharon Category: +M through R > New Adventures of Jonny Quest, The Views: 2466 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Nothing associated with Jonny Quest or the Real Adventures thereof is mine, nor likely to ever be so. I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
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He put the book onto the pile with the other books, and took out the loose photos, whose number could be counted on one hand. One by one, he looked through them, and frowned. There were four pictures of Jonny and another man. He was just a hair taller than Jonny, though he was very muscular, as if he worked out as a body builder of some sort, and very tan -- almost too tan for it to be real. He had a shock of bright red hair that seemed to be as fake as the tan, and a smile that, for some reason, put Benton’s teeth on edge.

Benton had dealt with enough phony politicians to recognize the man as one, and being a very observant man of a scientific nature; he placed the four pictures side by side, and studied them carefully.

The first picture was seemingly innocuous, though the stalker-like quality had returned, and Benton knew that Artemis had, once more, taken pictures of Jonny without him knowing it. The taller, red-headed male and Jonny were at a dinner party of some kind, and Jonny was seated beside the man, listening to him speak. However, Benton frowned slightly, and noted the immobile rigidity of Jonny’s back and shoulders, as well as the almost insanely intense focus that Jonny kept on the other man’s face as he spoke.

Benton knew, with everything in him, even if he hadn’t seen the other pictures in the other books, that the posture and the focus that Jonny held, was not normal, nor was it anywhere near anything that could have even remotely been termed ‘natural’.

Benton moved on to the second photo, and his scowl deepened. It was pretty clear, from the way the man held tightly to Jonny’s shoulders, pulled him about as forcefully against him as he could, without actually pushing him into his clothing, and had his head tilted what had to be painfully backward as he kissed him, that Jonny had left Artemis, and gone to the other man. Again, Benton’s mind went back to the pictures he’d seen of Jonny and Artemis as they’d kissed, and knew that what he saw in that picture was not the passionate kiss of love, but a hard, to the point of being painful, kiss of possession. It was also clear, due to Artemis’ talent as a photographer that the red-head was not in love with Jonny; so much as he was in love with having him. In fact, Benton would have gone as far as saying owning Jonny.

Benton turned the picture over, and read the name on the back, ‘Roger’. He then looked at the third picture, and scowled until his eyebrows almost came together. Jonny was still clearly with the man, and though the gesture seemed to be a loving one, Benton could see that though Jonny’s head was on ‘Roger’s’ shoulder, his body pressed into his side, Jonny’s shoulders were slumped forward, his head down. His hands were wrapped loosely around the man’s muscular forearm, and he looked nothing less than, well, the only word Benton could think of, was ‘defeated’.

And then his blood boiled, and he almost threw the coffee cup across the room.

The fourth picture was a close-up of the previous one, and taken only of Jonny’s face. There was no joy in Jonny’s expression, only sadness, though he looked up into Roger’s face, but it was what was on Jonny’s face that made Benton hate, and though he hesitated to use such a strong word, he couldn’t do anything but hate the man he knew only as ‘Roger’. There was a mostly faded bruise on Jonny’s cheek, his lower lip had a slightly raw looking split in it, and his eye was blackened and puffy.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened to his son’s face, and since Benton was a genius, he knew exactly what had happened.

Benton let the pictures fall to the floor from his suddenly nerveless fingers, put his head in his hands, and all but wept for his son.

Jonny had been a victim of what was obviously some long term, domestic violence, and there was nothing Benton could do about it. Even though he wanted to track down that Roger and beat the hell out of him and see how much he liked it, he knew he couldn’t. Not only had that happened over two years ago, it wouldn’t help his son, and that was the one thing he wanted . . . no, needed, to do.

He needed his son to be back in his own home. He needed his son to be where he was safe. He needed his son to be where Benton could try and make up for the last five years, almost ten if one included Jonny’s time at the boarding school, of not being there for him. He needed his son to be where Benton could protect Jonny, as he hadn’t done before.

There was only one way to do that, though, and that was to find Jonny. He looked up and raised his eyebrows in surprise as he realized that the sun had been up for almost three hours. He knew that he probably should get some sleep, but he was too hyped, not only from all the coffee he’d drank all night, but also by the thought that his son had needed him and he hadn’t been there . . . and that was going to end.

“IRIS!” He yelled as he ran up the stairs to his room.

“Yes, Dr. Quest,” the automated computer answered as calmly as always, and he took the steps two at a time.

“Ready the Dragonfly and inform Hadji I’m on my way to Bangalore!”

“Yes, Dr. Quest,” the computer answered, and without bothering to change, he grabbed the duffel bag he always kept packed for emergencies. On his way out of the house, he stopped by the box, picked up the bloody, battered, charred camera with a handkerchief and dropped it into a plastic bag.

Within fifteen minutes, Dr. Quest was in the Dragonfly, had the autopilot set with the course he needed, radioed his course to the necessary people, and was in the sky, winging his way to Bangalore, India to see the one person he was sure who could help him find Jonny in the absolute shortest amount of time.

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The Misadventures of Jonny Quest