Chapter 2
"I'll have to find a job, a proper job. A proper boring job, not like Unit or Torchwood," said the Doctor to himself as he walked along the busy London streets. He ruffled his hair a few times with his hand. "Where am I going to find a job? Who's going to hire me? I didn't even exist in this world until about a week ago?" I didn't exist at all.
The Doctor walked on in silence as the street got more crowed. He hadn't wanted to accept the gift card. He was a Time Lord from Gallifrey, the stuff of legend. He saved the universe repeatedly, so surely he could survive in the city of London. He had been so certain he could make it on his own, so determined to show her. He realized now that may have been a mistake. He had no money, no job, no psychic paper, no sonic screwdriver, no TARDIS, and now no Rose. He carried all his worldly possessions in a single shopping bag. The suits were clearly visible with the bananas, and shoes on top of them. People glanced down at the bag as they walked past him. They didn't say anything, but he knew they were sizing him up and wondering if he was crazy. The Doctor could remember many low points in his life, but he never really stopped to think about them. This one seemed the worst by far because he was trapped. He couldn't run off to the next adventure anymore. He had no plan. That was typical, but here in this new universe with only a shopping bag full of clothing he thought he really could use a plan.
The Doctor tried not to think about last night, but that proved impossible. He ended up spending the night on Fredrick Freeman's sofa after he helped him bring a large package inside. Fredrick noticed the oddities in the shopping bag and deduced what happened so he offered him a place to spend the night. The Doctor was thankful Fredrick didn't ask too many questions. Fredrick told him it didn't make sense because since he had shown up Rose was the happiest he'd seen her in months. The Doctor also had been shocked and told him as much. Fredrick seemed to think it would blow over. He kept saying things like "You're young you can fix this", and "she'll be back you'll see." The Doctor didn't explain how young he really was or how old he really felt. Instead found himself forcing a smile and saying "yeah, maybe" quite often. The Doctor could read the loss on the old man's face, each wrinkle like a tree ring showed the passing of years and told of friends long gone. Fredrick's face seemed to be a reflection of his own so he resolved to be gone quickly the next day. After an early breakfast the Doctor set off alone to walk the streets of London.
That was two hours ago. It was Saturday and the sun shone brightly. Zeppelins soared overhead, and people were buzzing about the streets shopping. A group of children played in a nearby park. A tall woman in a track outfit jogged past with a small Jack Russell terrier trotting beside her wagging its tail. Dogs were always happy. Maybe I'll get a dog. Assuming I can find a job and flat first.
He wondered if he'd be sleeping on a park bench tonight. The air was warm. He wouldn't freeze, but the idea of it made him visibly shudder. Normally he could just go back to his TARDIS, or flash his psychic paper, and book a hotel. But technically I've never done those things either. Does it count as me doing them if I can remember doing them?
"John Smith" he muttered to himself, "I'm not the Doctor anymore. Now I'm the man I used to pretend to be." I wonder what sort of man is John Smith?
John Smith continued walking with no direction in mind. He barely paid attention to the shops he passed, and almost bumped into a young boy as he dashed into a toy shop. A woman, presumably the boy's mother, raced after him and hollered for him to stop. He smelled chips from the next shop over, and was about to go inside. Then he remembered he didn't have any money. Instead he pulled a banana from his bag, and sat down on a bench outside a bookshop to peel it.
The woman with the Jack Russell headed his way again, but she had slowed to a walk. The dog seemed agitated. It barked and growled as it approached the shop door. Then it stopped and whimpered as if terrified by some invisible force. John sat perfectly still so as not to alarm the anxious dog any further. The sunlight warmed his face as he sat watching dust specks swirl in the sun beams. He avoided eye contact with the scared dog. Normally he might be able to communicate on a limited telepathic level, but his telepathic abilities had almost vanished since he became human ten days ago. Who knows perhaps he was even giving off some latent low level telepathy that caused the dog's anxiety. He couldn't be certain of anything in this hybrid body.
The dog owner tugged at the leash "Come on, Mickey!" the woman called. John suppressed a laugh. Then he thought even Mickey's face would be welcome right now. He realized Mickey, Rose's ex-boyfriend, would understand exactly how he felt. He had never felt more alone in the universe.
"Come on! Here boy," the woman continued to coax and gently tugged at the leash. The dog suddenly bounded ahead of the woman past the shop beyond the bench where John sat. He took the woman by such surprise she ended up clinging on to the leash with two fingers, and then grabbing it with the other hand to keep from dropping it. They raced off down the street.
A few minutes later, John finished the banana, tossed the peel in a nearby rubbish bin, and stood up. He faced the shop and stretched his arms. The lettering on the window said "Zeppelin Books: Where Your Imagination Takes Flight!" A short, blond middle age woman inside the walked to the front window. She held a large white sign with red lettering, "Now Hiring! Cash Advances Available! Must be willing to start immediately!"
John scratched his head. As the Doctor, he had never ignored a coincidence, and he figured John Smith probably shouldn't either. He pulled open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. A bell chimed as the door closed behind him. He took a deep breath inhaling the scent of adhesive and wood pulp. He scanned the room taking in the vast collections of books crammed into such a small space. The exterior walls of the shop held shelves of books stretching from floor to ceiling. A ladder on wheels stood in the front corner to his left attached to one of those metal tracks. The track looped the perimeter allowing access to the out of reach books. He noticed the sign on the ladder reading "employees only please ask for assistance." He frowned. Oh how he would love to climb up and browse the top collection. He simply loved to go where he wasn't permitted. Perhaps if I get the job.
"Hello," said John.
"Hello," said the woman still fussing with the sign in the window. "If you need any help finding anything, just let me know, and I'll be with you in a minute."
"Actually, I noticed your sign, and thought why not?"
"You want to work here?" asked the shop keeper as she turned around to look at him.
"Yes. I like books. I like people, most of the time. Thought it would be a good fit. You got anything by Agatha Christie?"
"Yeah, we got a whole section on- Wait a minute, you're not one of them nutters?"
"No, I don't think so?" said John putting on his most sincere face.
"Trying to snoop around and find out what happened. Poking fun at me. Well if that's the case you can just get out," said the woman glaring at him. The Doctor gave her a baffled look but then he noticed the mini Zeppelin hanging in the window. On it's side it had a painting of an open book and lines swirling away as if the book were flying. "Oh, I am thick! Of course this is Zeppelin Books, the shop from the news! I didn't realize I swear to you. I'm just an idiot. Just a great big idiot in desperate need of a job." He realized only after he had said this, that perhaps this wasn't the best way to go about getting hired. He also realized the dog's bizarre behavior could be a clue. He hadn't planned on investigating, but it seemed the universe had other ideas.
"Why are you so desperate for a job that you would work here?" she asked.
"Well this won't exactly help my case, but seeing as I've probably already blown my chances. I might as well tell you. I've got no money. Literally nothing in my pocket, no savings account, and yesterday my girlfriend just kicked me out. See this bag?" he said giving the shopping bag on the floor beside him a nudge with his foot. "It contains everything I own in the world and the bag is starting to rip. I know, not exactly a stellar resume. I'll just go. I won't bother you," said John he motioned to pick up the bag.
"No, wait!" said the woman, "What's your name?"
"John Smith," he said.
The woman raised an eyebrow skeptically. "How come I don't believe that?" she asked.
"No really, that's my name. Look, I'll show you," he said pulling his ID card from his pocket. He held it up. "See, John Smith."
"What are you, in your early thirties?" said the woman studying his face.
"35," said John remembering the authentic fake birth certificate. I guess that answers that question.
"A man in his thirties with no savings, no job, and no place to live!" said the woman.
"Why do you think she dumped me?" asked the Doctor. He gave her small smile. The kind of smile where his mouth was trying to be brave, but his eyes said help me I'm lost. It wasn't an act. He really did feel that way. He chose to let her see it because for reasons he didn't understand the helpless puppy dog approach seemed to be endearing himself to this woman. He was suddenly thankful the Doctor had given him this face. John doubted he would have been as successful if wore his previous face, which looked about a decade older with ears that stuck out and a hair style that did nothing to hide them. The cutting sarcasm he used back then also would have hindered him.
"Are those business suits in there?" asked the woman, "You have bananas on top of business suits?"
John shrugged. "That's last thing she bought for me. The bananas, not the suits," he said. John looked around the bookshop surprised by the care that went into organizing the place. From what he could tell every book had a home on a shelf and each aisle had neat little wooden signs painted black with white sans-serif lettering stating what was down each row. The perfectly ordinary signs reminded him of the one that said "Police Public Call Box" on the top of his TARDIS. He tried not to think about that.
"So you used to have a job then?" she asked.
"Oh yes! The best job in the universe," said John. So much for not thinking about it.
"And then let me guess. You got laid off, your girl ran your savings dry, and then she gave up on you."
"Something like that," said John. He looked back at the woman before letting his eyes roam about the room once more. They fell upon the only disheveled thing in the shop, a small metal cart on wheels near the front register. It was stacked with bags and piles of books that he assumed were new arrivals. He'd hoped soon he would be in charge of putting those books where they belonged. It surprised him that he actually hoped for such an ordinary task to perform, but this was his life now.
"Okay, John Smith. I don't care who you are as long as you're not a nutter and you're willing to work. I'm assuming you need that cash advance?" she asked.
John nodded. "Yes, that would great!"
"Okay now listen. The girl who opened my shop every morning quit yesterday. She thinks I have something to do with what happened. Everyone seems to think that, but if you're going to work here I need you to believe me when I say 'I don't know how that buggy got in my shop.' I locked the door myself last night. I can only imagine someone must have a copy of my keys because there was no sign of forced entry. The police let me go because I spent the night at the hospice with my mother. You can ask the nurses yourself, room 403 at Peaceful Pines. I was there all night so the only thing I can think is there is a murderer with a key to my shop. I'm having all the locks changed today. Come back at 2PM after that's done and you've got the job."
"Thank you. You're a life saver!" said John and shook the woman's hand. "What was your name?"
"Oh, sorry, I never introduced myself. I'm Rachel Mathews" she said.
"Thank you, Rachel Mathews. I'll be back, I promise," said John. He picked up his bag of clothing and was about to head for the door.
"Hang on a second. Would you mind letting me make a copy of your ID? I can get the hiring process started."
"Sure," said the Doctor, pulling the ID from his pocket once more and handing to her. Rachel went over behind the counter and placed the card over the reader. It beeped three times. Rachel took a quick look at the computer screen to make sure the information transferred correctly. Then she handed him his ID.
"I hope I don't regret this Mr. Smith. I'm desperate too, but not quite as desperate as you. You're expendable so you better be willing to work hard."
"Oh, you won't regret it. I promise," said John.
When he came back a few hours later, Rachel handed him the key and put him to work stacking new books on the shelves. One of the children's paperbacks had some crumpled pages so he flipped through it to smooth them out. He could smell the book binding, glue, and paper. He took a deep breath. Then his own voice echoed in his head. "The smell of books, Donna." A chill ran down his spine. He suddenly really wished he had his sonic screwdriver.
"Hey, thanks," said Rachel as she walked past. John gave her a confused look. "You fixed the dog-eared pages on that book."
"Oh, I figured that's just part of the job," he said.
"Well it shows you weren't lying," she said, "You do like books. The last girl was good, a real people person, but she didn't care too much for books. Mostly she liked reading beauty magazines."
"Yes, I do enjoy a good book," said John. He smiled at her and then continued putting away the children's books. "You know, I'm surprised you just handed me the keys. You know nothing about me and given what happened here two nights ago I don't know if I'd do the same."
"Oh, I did a web search on you," she said.
"You searched the name John Smith?" he said eyeing her suspiciously. She look frightened for a second. Then she sighed and looked down at the floor.
"Alright, no I didn't. Sorry, my son he works for Torchwood. He did the search. They're not strictly speaking supposed to do it without good reason, but he's my son. When I made a copy of your license I had him run it. He said you checked out. In fact he said you might even be the best man for the job. You might keep this place safe. I pressed him for details, but he wouldn't tell me anything else," she said.
John frowned. Rose had introduced him to everyone at Torchwood and there hadn't been anyone by the surname Mathews. He shrugged. "Well, I'm glad I checked out."
"You're an odd man, Mr. Smith. I just told you I invaded your privacy and you just shrug it off."
"Please, call me John."
"Okay, John, care to elaborate?"
John shrugged again. "I've got nothing to hide, and I'm glad to have a job."
"But what did he mean by that about you being able to help?"
"Sorry, my previous job isn't really one I can talk about. A lot of classified information," said John. "He was right not to tell you."
"Okay fine, but don't I have the right to know if there is something dangerous going on in my bookshop?" asked Rachel.
"Of course you do, but I don't know any more than what's been on the news," said John, "but enough about me. I'm curious what's your story? In the golden age of electronic information why a bookshop? Family business? Love the smell of books? What is it?" asked John.
"Both, I suppose," said Rachel, "my mom used to run it before she got ill. It barely breaks even, but I don't do it for the money. My kids are grown and my husband's got a good job that pays the bills. Some people still really love to hold a book in their hands and this shop makes them smile. This is a labor of love."
John smiled at her. "So do you go through the books that don't sell? What happens to them?"
"Not often. Some of them stay here for years until they find a home. Why do you ask?"
"Just curious? That's me always curious. I ask a lot of questions. Don't pay much to thought to it. Words often just come spilling out of my mouth," said John. Rachel frowned and narrowed her eyes but she asked no more questions.