Nothing much to say other than it was nearly a tearjerker to write the last part.

Enjoy and critique!


Chapter Three:

New York's Second Jojo!

Jonathan looked at the selection of clothing in wonder as Alvaro tried to haggle with the shopkeeper. While he had mentioned to the boy how what little currency he had would more than likely be useless in this country, the caramel colored teen told him not to worry and that he would take care of it. Despite the vagueness of that statement, Jonathan agreed and they went inside.

It was difficult for him to pick what he wanted as they did not have a lot of things in his size, but what little he did find suited him just fine. He hoped Erina would like them, anyway. He picked out a tan, casual suit with a blue tie along with some matching tan slacks. He decided to just keep the shoes he had on and went to the counter with his purchases.

"Good timing Jonathan. Just schmoozed things over with this jackass," Alvaro said, pointing at the angry looking man "Don't bring up exchange rates and we'll be alright." He whispered, making Jonathan raise an eyebrow.

"What do you-"

A quick shove toward the counter shut him up, making him sheepishly apologize for the teen's actions and pay for his things. The man seemed rather happy when Jonathan emptied his small coin purse into his hands.

"Gracias." he said, counting the coins eagerly. Before Jonathan could give his own thanks, he was dragged out of the shop by Alvaro and down a couple of shady looking alleys.

"Alright, I think we're in the clear." The young boy said, looking over his shoulder to make sure they were far enough away from the shop.

"Clear from what?" the gentleman asked, prompting the teen to wave him off.

"Nothing, don't worry about it." He replied, making Jonathan's suspicions only grow.

"Why are you helping me, Alvaro? I don't mean to be suspicious, but something is rather odd here." He inquired, making the young teen shrug.

"What? You looked like a guy that needed help is all; you stuck out like a sore thumb and were standing around like a confused puppy. I don't know who wouldn't help you." He said, sticking his hands in his pockets. Suddenly, a loud gasp erupted from Jonathan and he dropped the bag that held his previous clothes, making him stare in the direction of the blue haired man's finger. "What's wrong?"

"What in Heaven's name is that!?" he exclaimed, pointing toward a yellow car heading down the street toward them. Alvaro's eyebrow rose dubiously as he turned toward the shocked looking man.

"It's just a taxi, amigo." He deadpanned, the man's expression not changing.

"A taxi?" he asked, his mind racing to try and understand the giant hunk of metal currently heading toward him. He then began to observe his surroundings, seeing more of the taxis, but in different colors than the original and of different shapes and sizes. Sure he had heard of this invention, or at least one that was similar to what he was looking at now, during a meeting his father made him and Dio attend to meet the elites of London. But the one he had seen had only three wheels and was powered by electricity. Not to mention it was slower than a horse and buggy and seemed to only be a trophy the higher class would show off.

His mouth went dry and his spine froze when he realized he hadn't even thought to ask anyone how long he had really been unconscious, as opposed to when he was found by Daniel and his crew. With his neck seeming to creak like a rusty door hinge, he turned toward the perplexed teenager beside him.

"Alvaro, what year is it?"

As he predicted, the boy met him with a look of confusion before answering.

"It's 1938, man. Where have you been, the countryside?"

Upon hearing this, he broke out into a cold sweat and stumbled backward, hitting a brick wall. Fifty years, had it really been that long? As much as he didn't want to believe it, the evidence was staring him right in the face everywhere he dared to look. His hands were shaking, his heart was thumping in his chest and he could feel his face go pale. His bran could not keep up with all the thoughts he tried to register all at once, the most common of all being about his beautiful wife. Where was she now?

Did she go to America after the ship exploded?

Did she head back to Britain?

Was she alive?

The urge to cry was overpowering but he shook his head in defiance, scolding himself for wanting to break down at a time like this. She would not want him to cry and Zeppeli had told him that she was fine in that dream he had. Or was it a vision? Was it even true? It didn't matter, he had to believe she was fine or he would be breaking a very important rule of his gentleman code: A true gentleman must remain resolute and optimistic, even in the face of hardship.

Reminding himself of this gave him the strength to regain his composure and come up with a plan. It was not a sure plan, but it was the best one he could come up with. He had to go to America; he had to believe she was there. One deep breath later and he looked back down at the concerned teenager with a stern expression.

"Alvaro, do you know of a ship that is heading for America?" he asked but it sounded more like a demand.

"Uh, yeah. I was actually planning on stowing away on it later today, now that you mention it. Why?"

Despite the obvious legality issues he had with that, he decided for the first time in his life that it didn't matter.

"Do you know where it is headed exactly, New York perhaps?"

The boy nodded slowly, starting to catch on to his plan.

"Yeah, that's right. You want to tag along?"

Jonathan nodded, picking up the bag of his clothes.

"Yes. Although I am wondering, are your parents alright with this?" he asked, his concern shining through his determination. Alvaro went silent for a moment before nodding.

"Si, they left for America about a month ago and didn't have enough money to take me with them. I've been waiting for this shot for a while."

Jonathan smiled down at the boy and reached down to pat his head.

"You'll see them again; I'll make sure of that." He slung the bag over his shoulder and put his free hand on his hip "Now, let's board that ship." He declared, making the boy smile and pose with him.

"Alright, follow me!"


Even though the gentleman of the Joestars had convinced himself to go through with this plan, he still could not shake pain of guilt in his chest over breaking the law. It was overbearing and it made him feel nervous, but his body had decided long before his heart did as he crawled into a large crate with the mischievous boy.

"Alright, now we just wait for them to load us up in the ship and we're home free." The boy said, taking a bite of bread he had packed in a medium sized bag along with other supplies. Jonathan's stomach let out a long, deep growl when he saw the food and he chuckled in embarrassment.

"Sorry, I haven't eaten in a while."

"It's fine amigo, here." Alvaro split the small loaf in half and handed it to him. Normally he would have refused politely, but the grumbling of his stomach may attract attention to them if someone listened closely enough, so he took it.

"Thank you, Alvaro."

He quietly said grace and devoured the bread in less than a second, wiping his mouth of crumbs shortly afterwards. He could not imagine his father being too happy with his lack of manners, but the boy just laughed it off.

"So what's your story, Jonathan? What brings a well dressed Brit to a backwater city in Spain?"

Jonathan bit his tongue for a moment, thinking of what he could possibly tell the boy without coming off as insane.

"It's a long, bizarre story Alvaro. I am sure you would not believe me." He replied, looking down at the wooden planks of the crate in remiss. The teen tilted his head in confusion at the answer but decided not to pry.

"Alright, so why do you want to go to America?"

Jonathan looked back up and smiled, happy for the easier question.

"I got separated from my wife for-"he paused "-quite some time. I only now learned of where she might have gone." He explained, Alvaro nodding after he finished.

"Well, happy to hear that."

The box suddenly shook, making both of them pause their breath as footsteps echoed from outside on the docks.

"Alright, this is the last one, should have the same copper wires and shit in it." A man grumbled from outside, his voice reminding Jonathan of Victor's.

"You're not going to make sure?" A second higher pitched voice inquired, being met with a raspberry.

"What, you think this one's going to have a leprechaun or some shit in it, maybe a vampire's coffin?" the deeper voiced man teased, making ghost noises with his mouth.

"Alright, you made your point jackass. Load her up boys."

The box shook even more as a forklift proceeded to pick it up, carrying the box into the interior of the ship before slowly setting it down atop the other boxes. Both stowaways remained silent for another minute before they were sure they were alone.

"We made it." Alvaro whispered, the excitement making him bounce a bit in the tight space. Jonathan smiled and looked at the single hole that provided them both air and light.

"How long will it take before we reach New York?"

At this, Alvaro's expression went a little sour before he answered.

"Well, I timed it when I was eyeing this ship up. It took them two weeks to get back, meaning that it probably will take us a week to get there."

Upon seeing Jonathan's dire expression, he waved his hands reassuringly.

"Hey, don't worry! I just barely had enough money saved up to get enough food and water for both us, as long we ration it." He then reached into the bottom of the bag "But I only had enough for two rolls of toilet paper." The boy said, smiling sheepishly at the sighing man.

"How wearisome."


December 9th, 1938

It had been the second hardest week of the young gentleman's life, being only second to his battle with Dio, but the two made it through without being caught and with only half a bottle of water and a loaf of bread to spare. After the ship had docked, they quietly snuck out and jumped into the cold, evening ocean so as to avoid bumping into the dock workers and swam around to the coast. In their weakened state, this was easier said than done.

"We finally made, Jojo!" Alvaro declared through his gasp, his smile being almost as wide as his outstretched arms at the moment. Jonathan looked on in disbelief, the city looking like a beautiful glowing jewel in the middle of the darkest night. Hopefully, if fate favored him once more, he find Erina here and maybe even his stalwart companion Speedwagon.

"It's so beautiful." The tall gentleman said, his hand reaching out to seemingly caress the magnificent sight.

"I know, right?" Alvaro responded, walking up the shore toward the mainland "Well, this is where we part ways Jonathan. I hope you find your wife!"

Jonathan nodded "And I wish you the best of luck in finding your parents, Alvaro. Do not be afraid to come and find me if you need any more help."

With that, the young boy nodded and took off into the city, leaving the gentleman behind to contemplate his next move as he too walked toward the glowing city.

"I'm coming, Erina."

His goal set but his course still muddled with uncertainty, he took to the still busy streets to ask around for guidance. Some did not pay him any mind, dismissing him by saying he smelled, or they just ignored him completely. However, a young woman was kind enough to give him the time of day.

"Yes, I believe Ms. Erina Joestar is staying at that hotel at the moment." The red head said, pointing toward a rather exuberant hotel a few blocks away. Jonathan's smile could not grow any wider as he repeatedly bowed toward the woman.

"Thank you so much madam, I'll repay you someday!" he declared, running until his legs nearly buckled beneath him. He quickly rushed into the hotel when he arrived and questioned the man behind the counter.

"Ah yes, Erina Joestar is currently in room 213."

With another series of thanks, the blue haired man ran up the stairs as if he was floating on air. His mind was still trying to make sense of everything that had happened so far, how he ended up fifty years in the future being the most concerning thought. But right now, that did not matter. He was going to meet with the woman he loved more than anything, who he last saw shrouded in the flames of a burning boat that had been taking them to their honeymoon. He did not care how much time had passed; she would forever be the light in his life.

When he arrived at the door, as much as he wanted to barge in, his manners did not allow him to do so and he slowly knocked and stood back, his heart racing.

"Yo Uncle, someone's at the door!" a voice from inside yelled. In response, an older sounding voice groaned.

"Alright, I'll get it Joseph."

A set of footsteps approached and for a moment, Jonathan thought he recognized the voice but dismissed it. Then he had a more unsettling thought. Was Erina seeing another man? That could explain the other male voices but he was still trying to piece together everything else at the moment, putting that mystery aside for later.

"Lazy boy." The deep voice said, undoing the lock and twisting the knob "Hello, how may I-"

The very air itself went still when the Jonathan's eyes met the older man's. Not even a breath escaped as they analyzed each other, the blue haired gentleman's eyes moving first to a series of bandages wrapped around the man's head to a very prominent scar that started from the man's cheek and went up to the bridge of his nose. It was within that moment that he recognized the man and he breathlessly said his name.

"S-Speedwagon?"

In response, the man backed away, bumping into the wall across from the door as he gasped for air at his name being uttered. Tears made their way down Speedwagons face as he recovered and looked into a pair of eyes he hadn't seen in fifty years as he responded back with shaking lips and tear soaked eyes.

"M-M-Mr. Joestar."

The now aged Speedwagon fainted, falling into the arms of the still shocked gentleman as he tried his best to hold back his own tears.

"Who was it, Uncle?" the voice from earlier called out as another set of footsteps came toward the door. Jonathan looked up and saw the young, muscular man. At first, he thought he was looking into a mirror as the man looked almost exactly like him except with spiky brown hair. The two stared at each other for a while before the younger man got into a fighting stance.

"Who the hell are you? Another dumbass vampire here to kill me!?" he yelled, his anger growing when he saw the passed out Speedwagon in the man's arms "Let him go you piece of shit!" he yelled, pulling Speedwagon to the floor.

"Joseph! I said watch your language!" an older, female voice said from inside. Jonathan's heart raced as he guessed who it was. There was only one person it could have been.

"Stay back granny, some piece of shit hurt Speedwagon!" he then began to breath in, a familiar yellow energy beginning to run up his arm before an umbrella hit him in the head, breaking his focus. He knew hamon as well? Then, was this his…son?

"I said watch your-"

Jonathan's blue eyes grew even wider when met a familiar pair of aged, yet still beautiful lighter blue eyes which held an equal amount of surprise. The staring contest between them did not last as long as the previous one with Speedwagon, but it still felt like an eternity as they danced with one another in their eyes.

"E-Erina, is that you?" he asked, his held back tears releasing themselves at the sight of his older wife. The woman's eyes filled with an equal amount of sadness and joy as she covered her mouth, one word being the only thing that left her lips.

"Jonathan?"

The older woman rushed passed the other man who previously had his arms out to protect her and she jumped into Jonathan's arms.

The hotel hall filled with years of built up sobs from both parties, not wanting to part for even a second, lest the other disappeared forever.