Hello there readers! I hope you enjoy this oneshot of one of my favorite childhood films. I often wonder what kind of character Jonathon was, and so I wrote this. If this story gets enough love, I can try to make an entire re-adaptation of the movie. But only if enough people ask. Otherwise It will be left a oneshot.

Enjoy, The Secret of NIMH: Jonathon Alive.

Jonathon Brisby was wounded today, helping out with the Plan. It's been four years since our departure from NIMH, and our world is changing... we cannot stay here much longer. Jonathon is a dear friend to the rats of NIMH. But your wife, she knows nothing of us. Perhaps it is best I do nothing at the present moment... but watch.

"Oh Jonathon! How could you have done something so stupid!" Elizabeth cried. "Dragon could have killed you today!"

The grey mouse with brown spots chortled uneasily. "Tis but a scratch, my dear!" Jonathon said in a mock-cocky tone. He laughed at the ire in his wife's eyes. She was a sweet and timid creature, but even she another side to her. He loved her for it.

Elizabeth gaped. "A scratch - you call this a scratch! Jonathon Brisby, so help me, if you ever go into that house ever again,"

Jonathon hushed her with a finger. "Now, now dear," he tried.

She swatted his hand away. "Oh, don't you say a thing to me, Jonathon! You are staying in bed until that 'scratch' heals. By god, he could have taken your leg off!" She shook her head, wrapping the bandages tightly.

Jonathon flinched. "A-ah! That's a bit tight!"

The lovely mouse turned a deaf ear to her whining husband. "Mm-hm. It's for your own good, my dear."

Jonathon pouted and crossed his arms. "I feel like like my opinion has suddenly lost credit in this house." He blew some hair strands out of his face in his hissy-fit.

Elizabeth reached her arm and brushed his hair to the side in one sweeping motion. "Well, if maybe you didn't act like Martin's age, I'd be more inclined to listen to reasoning. Why did you go into that house? You know the dangers of it."

The male shrugged. "Oh you know, just wanted to get more food for the kids. And with Timothy so sick, I wanted to see if I could find something that could help." Jonathon expertly lied. He didn't like doing it, at least not to his wife of all people. 'If I want to protect her, I must do all I can to keep my other life a secret.' He thought sadly.

Elizabeth Brisby shook her head. "Oh Jonathon. I know you care about this family, but what if you actually died today? What do you think would happen to us? We would be so lost without you." She said grievously. It was evident in her voice, she was still shaken by the possible alternate outcome.

Jonathon couldn't help but feel guilt swell up inside him. 'Oh Jonathon, now looks what you've done.' He scolded himself harshly. 'Damn NIMH, making this so difficult.' His eyes softened. 'But it is also my fault as well...' He opened his mouth to try to create sentiments with his wife, but found she was already across the block, wrapping her cloak around herself. His mouth floundered like a fish out of water. "H-h-honey! Wh-where are you going, deary?"

"I'm going to see Mr. Ages. He knows how to make medicine." She said briskly. "Jonathon, don't you dare leave this house." She said in a warning tone. "I don't want you more hurt than you are now. And it doesn't help, Timothy is getting worse."

He saluted her. "Yes ma'am!" He quickly replaced his complacent attitude, with a more demure one, when she put her hands on her hips irascibly. He quickly laid down on the bed, pulling the covers over himself. He coughed. "I mean - uh - Yes ma'am..." he said, his eyes swiftly meeting hers, then looking away fearfully.

Mrs. Brisby gave a stern nod before facing away and leaving their cinder-block-house.