Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Note: This is supposed to take place a year or two after the merry-go-round. And as for the ages mentioned in this fanfic, please forgive me if I get them wrong. They were never really exactly stated in the book.
It was late, very late. The sun was long gone, and the moon and its army of stars were enveloped in a dark blank of clouds. Scipio was in sitting at the bar of a late night café, slowly and thoughtfully drinking his coffee, when someone sat next to him. At first Scipio paid no attention to him as the man ordered some tea from the young waitress. It was the same waitress that had been staring Scipio with lustful eyes from the time he first stepped foot into the café after a late night shadow turned out to be a dud. Scipio had ignored the waitress, but that didn't stop her wondering eyes.
The waitress was now going off to get the man his tea, looking a bit disappointed that she was going to have to take her eyes off Scipio, while Scipio himself let a little relief wash over him. It was going to take a good chunk of time to get that tea. This café rarely ever served tea so late in the night, so she was going to have to make it a whole new batch for this latest customer. As she sauntered off, her pony-tail bouncing with every step, the man turned to Scipio.
"Salve," greeted the man.
"Salve," muttered Scipio, barely glancing over at the man. He wasn't really in the mood to talk, but it was best to be polite.
"What's someone like you doing here alone at night?" questioned the man.
"Getting coffee," answered Scipio.
"How old are you?"
"22."
That was what he had deiced long ago what he looked like to be, though it was hard to be exact. People rarely look their age at least that was what Victor said.
"No, really how old are you?" asked the man.
At that question, Scipio fully turned to the man. He looked English, yet he spoke Italian like it was his native language. He had a quirky smile on that matched his odd wardrobe, which included a trench coat, a pin stripe suit, and a pair of converse. His hair was messy and spiky, while his eyes shone with wisdom well beyond his appeared age. There was something about him that made Scipio want to trust him, something in those eyes.
"13," he answered quietly.
"How did it happen?" caringly questioned the man.
"Does it matter?" retorted Scipio, looking back down at his coffee.
No matter how much better he felt after that trip on the merry-go-round, Scipio didn't like to talk about it with strangers. And there was also the fact that he had promised not to tell anyone about that magical merry-go-round.
"You're not as old as you look either," Scipio suddenly blurted out. He had no idea where that came from and even less of an idea if that statement was even true.
"Oh, you're good. You're right. I'm older," replied the man.
Scipio looked back up at him. Did the man just say what Scipio thought he said?
"How?" asked Scipio, a hint of amazement in his voice.
"Does it matter?" responded the man, turning to look up as the waitress came back with a cup of tea. There was a note of sadness in his voice as he said that, but that disappeared as the waitress set down his tea.
"Grazie," thanked the man. "Could you see if you have any cherry pie? I'm craving cherry pie at the moment." In response, the waitress sighed huffily and walked off to see if they had any cherry pie.
Scipio had a feeling that the man was only doing that to keep her busy so she wouldn't eavesdrop on their conversation. He felt a little gratitude towards the man. Scipio didn't exactly want her to stare at him at the moment and find out that he's not really who he seems.
"Who are you?" Scipio asked the man. Not just anyone could guess that he was not as old as his body, and Scipio wanted to find out exactly who this man is. Though for once, his curiosity was not that great.
"The Doctor and I know what you're thinking. It's just the Doctor, thank you very much," replied the Doctor sipping his tea.
"My father's a Doctor. I think he's still in the city," commented Scipio. Again those words had just came out like an unstoppable flood. But for some reason Scipio didn't seemed worry about telling this strange stranger about his life. There was an air of kindness around the man and just something about him that made you feel that he was trustworthy.
"Who is he?" questioned the Doctor.
"Dottor Massimo," quietly answered Scipio.
"Oh, the famous Dottor Massimo!" exclaimed the Doctor.
A couple of the café's other customers looked up as the Doctor said that. Scipio discreetly lowered his head, not wanting to meet anyone's eye. They might thing that he was Dottor Massimo, and he didn't want that. Not now. Good thing he was still wearing his hat. He was harder to recognize with it on.
"Yeah…," whispered Scipio to the Doctor, slightly glaring at him for peaking others curiosity.
Fortunately, the ones that looked up at the Doctor's exclamation quickly went back to what they were doing before. It seemed that they didn't care about Dottor Massimo anymore; it had been quite awhile after the campaign to find his son had declined.
"Haven't met Dottor Massimo yet," muttered the Doctor more to himself than to Scipio.
"You don't want to. He's controlling and only cares about his business. He never seemed to care for me. Probably thought of me as another thing to worry about," Scipio commented darkly.
"Oh, come on," said the Doctor cheerily, looking back at Scipio. "I bet he loves you. He's done all that to search for you."
A seed of gilt popped up in Scipio's head, but he quickly pushed that out. Sure it was difficult to adjust to being an adult, but he had much more freedom and was happy for it now that he was away from his father's hold. Still what the Doctor said rang in his ears.
"Yeah…," quietly replied Scipio. "You're not going to tell anyone are you?"
"That you're Scipio Massimo? Nah. No need. You'll have it all sorted out sooner or later," answered the Doctor.
"Thanks," said Scipio, a little bit of relief washing over him.
"Don't mention it."
There was silence between them for a moment, as both sipped their hot drinks. The café lights shone down on them as the darkness pressed on the windows from outside. The waitress had come back, saying there was no cherry pie and the Doctor had sent her way again to go see if there was any American apple pie. Suddenly the Doctor spoke again.
"Was it the merry-go-round?" he questioned, turning back to Scipio.
"What?" said Scipio, coming out of his thoughts.
"Was it the merry-go-round that did this to you?" the Doctor asked again.
"Can't say. Promised not to tell anything," grunted Scipio.
"I'll take that as a yes. Was it the merry-go-round of the Merciful Sister?" questioned the Doctor.
To that, Scipio said nothing. He'd knew if he said anything about the merry-go-round, he would be breaking his promise.
"I'll take that as a yes, too. Amazing bit of tech, the merry-go-round of the Merciful Sisters is, isn't it?" commented the Doctor.
Again, Scipio said nothing.
"Yah, I get it. Promised not to say anything about it and stuff, but you have to agree."
"It's not technology. It's magic," muttered Scipio.
"Uh-uh, magic," said the Doctor, sounding like he didn't believe that one bit. "If you call a bit of alien technology magic."
That little sentence took, Scipio by surprise. He turned back to the man with the strange name and clothes. What was did he mean by that? thought Scipio.
"'Alien'?" asked Scipio questioningly.
"Yep," said the Doctor, turning back to his tea and taking a sip. "In fact it might've been from the planet Fortunato in the Stella galaxy. Or it may possibly be from a Timelord. It's a hard feat to warp time like that."
"You're crazy," Scipio commented, turning back to his coffee. Half of him believed that statement, but the other half wasn't quite sure. The merry-go-round did seem to be from something completely other worldly.
"Hey!" exclaimed the Doctor sounding half offended and half not. "I'm not the child in an adult body here."
Scipio grunted and smirked. He'd got me there, he thought.
"Fair enough," he muttered in response.
There was more silence as the two males finished their drinks. Suddenly the Doctor spoke up.
"Well, good luck Scipio," began the Doctor, digging in his pocket. "You're a bright kid. Do something with that mind of yours, will yah? Now, I've got to go. Nice talking to you."
And with that the Doctor pulled out some lire, placed it on the counter, and got up to leave.
"Wait!" exclaimed Scipio. There was something that he suddenly wanted to ask this man before he left. "Just answer me this: How old are you?"
The Doctor turned back and smiled. "906," he replied.
"Really?" questioned Scipio in disbelief. No one could be that old, could they?
In response to that, the Doctor merely winked and walked away, leaving Scipio all alone with his thoughts as to who that man really was. And as the night pressed on, Scipio finished his coffee and left the café too.
As he strolled down the walkways, the clouds lifted and the magic of Venice came back. Scipio's heart was light as he watched the reflection of the stars in the water. He had a feeling that everything was going to be okay, and for some reason it was all thanks to that strange man that called himself the Doctor.