It's time to meet Jonathan Smith and all his crazy world ;)
Notes:Okay, let's be honest, first chapter had been an epic fail
Chapter II: Jonathan Smith
His gaze was mostly fixed on the road, like that of any responsible driver.
However, in moments of straight and deserted stretches, he allowed himself the luxury of dedicating himself to completing his latest invention, as any other addicted to that passion would do.
The sudden braking he was forced to do, almost at the risk of swallowing the screws he held in his mouth, to prevent his camper from colliding with a car that seemed to come out of nowhere, convinced him that perhaps it was appropriate to send that prototype back to a more proper moment.
Ironically, he was just working on a device that was supposed to prevent people from being distracted while driving.
If it had been up to Jonathan Smith, he would have spent his entire life inventing something or fixing an existing one, at any moment.
Born in Glasgow, he had started dismantling his own toys from the tender age of three, not because he was a violent child.
No, Jonathan was simply a curious child: gears, bolts, pieces to assemble and all sorts of mechanisms fascinated him.
His parents had immediately indulged this passion of his and while they were alive they had given him all possible stimuli.
They were proud of their little genius.
Unfortunately, Jonathan had already found himself an orphan at the age of twenty.
He had been a much craved baby but he had arrived very late and life expectancy in 1926 was what it was, there was no invention that could counter it.
Jonathan soon realized how Glasgow and its overly closed-minded inhabitants, unlike his beloved parents, were suffocating him.
The desire to leave was great, but he didn't have the money to do it.
One day by chance, while walking, he came across an unattended blue camper.
He hadn't thought twice about it: he had stolen it, had replaced the original plate with another one, had started it without any difficulty and had crossed the border undisturbed.
That was where Jonathan's life as a nomad had begun, John to his friends, because during his travels he had met tons of friends.
He never stayed in the same place for more than a few weeks.
There had been an exception, about five years later, a major exception named Martha Jones.
Jonathan had just arrived in Exeter and, as was his custom, had gone to the first available bar for breakfast.
Martha was the waitress on duty and with a sunny smile she had approached him to take his order.
Returning the smile, he had replied, even flirting a little.
She was a beautiful girl with milky-brown skin, black hair, as well as her lively and curious eyes, and Jonathan was certainly not insensitive to feminine charm.
While he waited for what he asked for, Jonathan had taken the opportunity to pull out his latest project and continue working on it.
"How cool, what is it?" Martha had asked, appearing behind him with his breakfast.
People rarely expressed enthusiasm for his inventions.
Martha was quickly earning points in Jonathan's eyes.
"It's a sensor to be applied to any pot or pan: it detects if the food is heating up beyond the necessary temperature, thus preventing it from burning ... or at least I hope it does!" he had laughed nervously.
"But it's brilliant! It would be very useful in our kitchens, "she had commended him.
"Wait before saying it, I don't even know if it will work," he had humbly replied, starting to eat.
"I'm sure it will," she had insisted. "Let's do this, if I'm right, you'll be entitled to a free meal."
"But it will take me at least weeks to finish this invention ..." he had muttered between bites.
"That's even better, it means that you will show up here every day until you are entitled to your reward," she had winked at him, before leaving.
And he had accepted that obvious invitation gladly.
"Tell me, Jonathan, do you just invent things or do you fix them as well?" Martha had asked him on the fifth day he showed up there.
He had flashed a toothy grin and his big dark chocolate eyes had lit up with enthusiasm.
"Ooooh, I love fixing things!"
"That's exactly what I was hoping you would say: tomorrow I know what to bring you."
Martha had been up to her word and the next day had shown him a silver pocket watch with a strange engraving on it.
"It's not precious, but it has a great emotional value, it's a family heirloom, only it broke a couple of years ago, but I don't want to part from it anyway."
"Ohhh, what a fascinating object, give it to me, I'll take good care of it!" he had offered himself and within a quarter of an hour, with a screwdriver and pliers, he had fixed it with great ease.
"That's it, now it's healed!" he had smiled smugly, handing it back to a joyful Martha.
"I don't know how to thank you!" she was excited, before reflecting on his words. "What do you mean with 'healed'? Do you think it was 'sick' before? "
"Of course, it was."
"So you would be ... some kind of Doctor?"
"If you want to call me that."
And since that day, Jonathan had earned a new nickname.
Martha then had approached him winking, running her tongue slowly over her upper lip.
"And tell me, Doctor, is there anything else you do so well?"
Needless to say, the two ended up in bed together that night.
Jonathan loved Martha's resourcefulness and curiosity, she loved following him for some adventure aboard his camper, all over Devon.
Little outings, they were always back within a day, he tried to be content with that and she enjoyed everything that he brought her to know.
However, as much in love as they were, their differences were too obvious and a little over a year later they all emerged.
"Jonathan, I know it's a pain for you to stay still here, even more so now that I can follow you with less and less frequency, now that with the money earned at work I can begin my studies to become a Doctor, a real one, I mean," she had made fun of him, without any malice.
She had confided to him for some time that it was her dream and how many sacrifices she was making to achieve it.
He had just smiled at her, but it was more of an uncertain grimace, because he knew what she was going to tell him: if she didn't do it he would do it.
"I need more normality, John, being with you is beautiful, but it makes me lose too much contact with reality: you are like a fire and if you stand too close to fire, you get burned."
"I would never want to burn you, I'll let you shine in all your light, brilliant Martha Jones." he had greeted her with a last goodbye kiss, before boarding his camper, this time for a longer journey, as had not happened for some time.
Another thing Jonathan loved was saving people.
He got the chance about a year later, walking through the pristine green spaces of Malahide, Ireland, when he saw a crowd of men rising up against a woman.
He parked the camper, joined the crowd, and pushed his way to the woman, a red-haired young woman.
"Trust me and do as I tell you: run to my three." he whispered to her, pulling a kind of strange candle out of his jacket pocket.
"One. Two. Three!" he had counted aloud, before smashing the strange candle to the ground, which was nothing more than a smoke bomb, which temporarily blocked the view of the rest of the crowd.
Jonathan grabbed the woman's hand and ran with her in the opposite direction, where the camper was waiting for them.
"Jump on!" he had told her.
"Hey, I don't take orders from you, Martian, but I can figure out by myself that I'd better go away with you, before the smoke clears and they find me!" she had spoken to him for the first time.
"I'm not a Martian!" he was offended, as he started the engine.
"Well, you are so weird and you certainly don't look like you're from this town, or even from this planet, to be honest," she had retorted. "Thank you, for your intervention, but don't expect me to pay you back with sex, you are too thin and edgy to be my type."
Jonathan had nearly skidded with the camper.
"Whaaaat ?! Blimey, I'm beginning to understand why the crowd wanted to attack you, it's because of your forked tongue! " he had glared at her, shocked.
"Naah, it's more for the money that I tapped them for a séance ... which wasn't very real, they must have noticed the thread that moved the crystal ball ... oh well, not really crystal, more bottle bottom!" she had explained, making herself comfortable on the sofa.
"For Einstein's sake! I should have saved those poor men from you! " he had muttered.
"You're so exaggerated. I'm a real medium, I just don't always feel like opening all the chakras for real, connecting with my third eye, being assisted by Karma, do you know how much energy you have to waste on that stuff if you really do it? "
"Oh, poor little thing!" he had rolled his eyes.
"Let's do this ... what's your name?"
"Jonathan Smith. John, for friends. "
"Listen, John ..."
"I said 'for friends'!" he had pointed out, grumpy.
"You're oh-so-rude, Johnny Boy!"
"Nobody calls me that!" he had turned to her, annoyed, and then returned to focus on the road.
"I said, Johnny, let's do this: you give me a lift to Dublin so I can join my caravan there." she had suggested.
"Caravan?" he had asked, intrigued.
"Donna Noble, my darling, proud gypsy for fifteen generations, the blood of true mediums flows in me, that's why I am one, as well. And to prove it to you, I'll read your hand when we reach our destination. "
"Dublin is a stone's throw away from here, I don't want anything in return, I'll just be pleased to get rid of you!" he had shrugged, who as a good man of science was a bit skeptical about certain topics.
"Then you have the courage to say that I have a forked tongue!" she had snorted, lifting her bangs. "And, anyway, I insist."
They had reached Dublin quickly, her caravan was there waiting for her, but before joining her people, Donna had kept her word.
She had taken Jonathan's right hand and had begun to peer at it, really concentrating.
"You have lost some people who are very dear to you: first your parents, when you were a little younger ... six, seven years ago?" she had asked, and Jonathan's astonished expression had been more eloquent than any answer.
"And then there was a young woman who was important ..." she continued, looking at him with her little blue eyes, a bit close together, but very inquisitive.
"Yes, it's true, she always will be ..." he had murmured, with a smile halfway between melancholy and sad.
"But she wasn't meant to be. If you want to be happy, you have to find your mirror." she had informed him.
"My what?!" he had looked at her in confusion.
"Your mirror. You have to figure out what it means on your own. " she had left him, with those words so enigmatic.
After a few months, Jonathan no longer even remembered that advice, until in Berlin during a reception someone had not caught his attention: handsome, young like him, blond, with dark eyes, like his soul, but Jonathan couldn't know it yet.
The stranger among his positive aspects had a strong charisma, a magnetic personality, an excellent dialectic and a strong sex appeal.
Jonathan had never had problems with sexuality: for him the human body was always fascinating, in all its forms and did not want to close himself in mental constraints dictated by public opinion.
The blond had to think so too because he was fascinated by that tall, slightly disheveled man who seemed unable to take his eyes off him, eyes made even bigger by the glasses he wore.
"Maybe this boring party is about to spice up a little?" the stranger had broken the ice, revealing himself to be English, despite the country that was hosting them.
"Perhaps." the brunet had smiled, shaking his hand "Smith. Jonathan Smith. "
"Saxon. Harold Saxon. And make sure you remember it well, when tonight I will make you shout my name. " the blond had replied, with marked arrogance.
"But... whaaat?!" Jonathan had backed away, shocked.
In a few strides, Harold had him again within inches from him.
"I've just patented a sexual tension detector and you and I, my dear, are going to blow it up." he had smiled mockingly, taking from the pocket of his black tuxedo a strange device, like a compass.
Just the fuse that was missing to ignite the bomb.
"Are you an inventor, too?" Jonathan had widened his eyes, intrigued even more.
Harold's predictions for that night were fully confirmed.
The first of a long series of nights. And days.
Donna's speech now seemed to make sense to him: Jonathan was convinced he had found his mirror: an inventor like him, who loved to travel the world, even if Harold had no vehicles of his own, he hitched a ride to anyone with persuasive arts, but Jonathan had been more than happy to accommodate him in his camper and even more so in the bedroom inside.
"Blimey, Har, you eat all the time." Jonathan had commented upon seeing the amount of food Harold had poured onto his plate at a buffet in Madrid.
"So what? You always have to be hungry. For knowledge. For supremacy. For power." his partner had replied, devouring yet another sandwich with voracity.
"Mostly you have for food .. and you don't put on a single gram!" Jonathan had teased him.
"That's because you take care of making me burn my energy, cutie!" Harold had made him blush before kissing him, heedless of the crowd watching them. "You and I will conquer the world one day ." he had whispered to him.
Not that it was Jonathan's favorite kind of speech.
"Love, look what I've just invented!" Harold had called him, during a stop in Paris, just before returning to Berlin for their anniversary.
"Ooh, I love to guess!" Jonathan had joined him eagerly, in the hotel room they had found for a few days. Harold didn't like spending too much time in the camper.
However, Jonathan's enthusiasm had waned at the sight of what was on the table.
"But this is ... explosive." he had commented with a clear tone of reproach.
"Don't belittle it like that, please. It's not just an explosive, it's the explosive : a small amount of this and you can burn an entire city to the ground. " Harold had corrected him with a maniacal grin.
"Are you crazy? You'll kill a lot of people! " he had tried to make the other reason.
"You're so exaggerated, at most they burn just a little" Harold had shrugged, as if nothing had happened. "And think about how we could get rich if we produced explosives and other types of weapons on a large scale to sell to the most interested nations ..."
"And foment a war?" Jonathan looked at him in shock.
The way you look at someone you no longer recognize anymore.
"Peace is so boring!" Harold snorted. "And you're starting to be boring, too, John." he had looked at him with contempt.
And that's where Jonathan had figured out there would be no more anniversary to celebrate. And that Harold certainly couldn't be his mirror.
For the next few years he had preferred to continue his travels without becoming romantically attached to anyone.
Who knows if in London, his next destination, things would have changed.
TBC
Notes:Obviously things will change, and I can't wait to write, to give a joy to these two puppies that for the moment have only had fleeting ones. ;)
ps I did a lot of research to match everything, I read that caravans already existed in 1850 and if it was said that Galileo Galilei had invented some sort of sensor in 1592, can't Ten do it in 1931? ; P
I know that in the canon the Martha /Ten ship would not work, but this is an AU that grants me certain freedoms and then it is canon that she courted him shamelessly XD
And it is also canon that she finds the strength to get away from him ... Plus, they were so pretty, weren't they? * O * Like Ten and his Master, after all; P
About the watch / family heirloom, it wanted to be a small reference to 'Human Nature' and 'The family of blood', two of the most beautiful and heart-breaking episodes of the series
I hope you liked the various characters, I didn't struggle to imagine them in those guises;)
Feel free to tell me what you like :) … although I'm pretty sure no one will, just like it happened with the first chapter… it's a tad disheartening yeah :/
honestly don't know if it will end with the next chapter, the characters will decide, as always ^^ '