Chapter 10

64...65...66...67...

Peter continued to count as the fob watch landed face down in his palm for the 68th time. Each time he tossed it into the air, it would rotate exactly three times before landing face down with the strange symbols that adorned the anterior surface hidden from view.

72...73...74...75...

He didn't know what it was that he found so comforting about this particular prop. It was simply an old fashioned chainless fob watch that fit snugly into the palm of his hand. Nothing special. What fascinated Peter most though were the peculiar etchings that covered one surface of the watch: strange circular patterns interspersed with numerous symbols. Sometimes he found if he looked too long at them, that he could almost imagine the symbols as a legible language. That was impossible though, and Peter knew it.

89...90...91...92...

Peter had found the fob watch the first night he'd performed at Hard Rock. He'd only picked it up for a moment, wondering where it had come from before he'd deposited it in the top drawer of his dresser. The only reason the memory had stuck with him was that in the single moment he'd held that watch, all trace of his opening night nerves had vanished. He wasn't particularly prone to nerves and he didn't have any particular superstitious rituals he engaged in before going on stage, but the few times he'd found it necessary to seek the quiet of his dressing room before a performance, he'd always found himself fiddling with the fob watch. Somehow, impossibly, the watch managed to provide him with some small measure of comfort when all else failed. And now more than anything else he needed comfort.

108...109...110...111...

He still couldn't quite believe that Francesca had been murdered. They'd found her body two days ago, in an alleyway off the service entrance to Hard Rock. Peter had been hauled down to the local police station less than an hour after the gruesome discovery had been made and her body identified. Apparently it had been well known that she'd broken up with him, and according to other "anonymous" members of the dance troupe he'd taken the break up "badly". Thus the local law enforcement, in all their infinite wisdom, had seen fit to promptly lay the blame squarely at Peter's feet, and had arrested him immediately.

136...137...138...139...

He'd been grilled for several hours before he'd begrudgingly been released without apology, after it had become quite clear that there was absolutely no forensic evidence that could tie Peter to the case. Not to mention the fact that he had two cast iron alibis, in the form of Donna and Martha, for the alleged time of death. Rose had also been with them, but for some reason neither Donna nor Martha had seen fit to mention that. Luckily he'd caught on quickly to their subterfuge and hadn't continued to insist that Rose Tyler had also been present. If the officer who'd questioned him had found that odd, he'd thankfully let the matter pass.

172...173...174...175...

Tonight would be the first show post Francesca's death. Hard Rock had extended their condolences to Peter, but at the end of the day they'd sponsored him because his show raked in huge audiences. As such, they'd deemed two days without profit as sufficient bereavement time for Peter. They'd also insisted that he present the new segment of his act in tonight's show. Having his name all over the papers –albeit for rather unflattering reasons – had led to a spike in ticket sales, and according to Donna they were completely sold out for the next three weeks. Their demands meant that Peter had spent the past two days running rehearsal after rehearsal for the new show content. He'd been refining the ideas for over two weeks and hadn't quite been ready to incorporate them into Fright Night yet, but he had no choice now. As such, tempers had been particularly short on the floor. Instead of yelling at the incompetent staff though, he'd walked off the stage – taking a self-imposed lunch break – and had left Donna to wrap up the remainder of the rehearsal. They'd manage well enough without him, in fact the rehearsal would probably run a lot more efficiently without him there for the time being. He'd needed space, and so he'd sought respite in his dressing room where he wouldn't be disturbed.

263...264...265...

Peter dropped the watch on its 266th toss as the sound of a knock on his dressing room door distracted him.

'Come in,' he growled, picking the watch up from the floor.

A young man Peter had never seen before stood in the doorway. The boy was a head shorter than him with short brown curly hair and wearing, rather incongruously, a woollen blazer with some kind of name tag attached.

'What do you want?' he snapped, putting the fob watch away in its drawer. 'Well?' Peter demanded when the boy remained silent. He almost seemed surprised to have run into Peter.

'Mr Vincent?' the boy finally asked. Peter didn't dignify the question with an answer. The boy had clearly been directed to his dressing room.

'I'm from the Vegas Sun,' the boy continued quickly, apparently sensing Peter's looming dismissal. 'We had an appointment today.'

It was almost a question.

'I don't think so,' Peter replied doubtfully. He didn't recall Donna mentioning anything, but he couldn't say for sure that there wasn't an appointment. 'Did you speak with Donna?'

The boy waved the question away.

'Yeah, yeah,' he replied quickly. 'I'm doing that article on vampires. Separating the myth from fact, remember?'

Peter didn't. He looked at the boy more closely.

'What and you want a quote?' he asked sceptically.

The boy shrugged half-heartedly.

'That's a shit idea for an article.'

He wasn't in the mood to play games. Not today. His frank tone seemed to stir something in the boy though, and unexpectedly he stood his ground.

'Look, please Mr Vincent...I...I need your expertise and you're the man on this stuff...so...' he trailed off, staring beseechingly at Peter.

There was a sort of desperation to the boy's enquiry, which surprised Peter. He looked the boy over again and suddenly he noticed what he'd been missing.

'It's your first assignment isn't it?' he said tiredly, understanding now why the boy had been so persistent.

The boy half-shrugged again; neither confirming nor denying the assertion. He didn't look happy precisely but there was a definite spark of relief and hope in his eyes. Peter ran a hand through his hair as he studied the stranger. He really didn't want to give an interview, but at the same time sitting around back stage by himself, alone with his thoughts, wasn't particularly appealing either.

Donna had obviously given the boy the all clear though so perhaps he really had had the appointment. Besides it was nice to have someone showing some interest in his hobby. He could count on one hand the number of nice things the girls had said about his collection in the entire time he'd known them. He let out a resigned sigh.

'Well, why the fuck not?' he answered routinely. 'Come upstairs and I'll give you an exclusive.'

o0o

Rose was finalising the call sheet for the evening when Donna called her over. Passing the tablet off to one of the assistant stage manager's she met Donna in the middle of the stage. Following the terrible news that Francesca had been murdered, Rose had temporarily stepped in as Donna's PA. Rose had only met Francesca once or twice, but she had been a sweet enough girl and Rose could tell that both Donna and Peter were taking the death hard. A large part of that was undoubtedly due to the knowledge that the death had been brutal.

Donna had learnt the gruesome details through Martha – who'd managed to gain access to the autopsy report courtesy of her UNIT contacts – whilst Peter had had the disturbing images presented mercilessly to him by the thick-headed detectives who'd been interviewing him. Whatever had killed Francesca – and all three women were quite certain that it was whatever rather than whoever – had not been kind. The poor girl had had her throat torn out completely, as though a wild animal had torn into her without hesitation. The grisly images had revealed in depth the extent of damage caused by the killer, and Rose had felt for Peter particularly when she'd learnt that he'd been privy to the gruesome images. The detectives had apparently found Peter's violent reaction to the photos somewhat amusing. Rose thought they must be sick in the head if they'd gained any pleasure from watching a grown man dry-heave.

It was harsh, in Rose's opinion, to expect Peter to rebound from his grief within the space of two days, but she supposed that was show business. Peter had confided in Rose that he hadn't been in love with Francesca, but regardless of what label was applied to their relationship Rose knew that the young girl had been his only confidant for the month or so before Donna had arrived in Las Vegas. It wasn't a long period of time but considering Peter had come into existence on Boxing Day, he'd spent almost a third of his life with Francesca. It was understandable then that her death would have an impact on him. Still he seemed to be doing okay at present, and the fact that he'd managed to get mostly through the rehearsal without resorting to yelling at stage hands was promising. Instead he'd walked out on the tech rehearsal halfway through before he could start yelling, and given that Donna hadn't called him back onto stage Rose assumed she too had thought it best that he sit the remainder of the rehearsal out.

'Did you give a journalist permission to speak with Peter?' Donna asked as soon as Rose was within earshot, bringing her back to the present.

'No. Why?'

Donna frowned. 'Peter's taken him upstairs. Could you go and check up on him. It's just I don't like the idea of some stranger arriving so soon after –'

She broke off suddenly, but Rose didn't need her to complete the thought. It wasn't unusual for Peter to invite complete strangers into his home but they tended to be young females, and even so he hadn't done that for quite some time. With Francesca's murder still fresh in their minds and the very real possibility now that someone was trying to get to the Doctor, all three of them had agreed to keep a closer eye on Peter. Having him wander off with an unknown man was not a comforting thought.

'I'd go myself,' Donna continued, regaining her composure, 'but this lot require my full attention.' She gestured around them at the cast and crew milling about, awaiting further instructions from Donna.

'Yeah, of course,' Rose replied immediately. 'I'll go up right now. He probably is just some stupid journalist. God knows we've had enough of them snooping around the past two days.'

Donna smiled tightly; relieved to know Rose was on the case. She couldn't pause to chat any longer though as the tech at the sound desk called out for her. Rolling her eyes in exasperation Donna hurried off, undoubtedly to head-off an impending disaster, and leaving Rose to make her way upstairs.

o0o

The moment Rose stepped into Peter's apartment she knew there was no cause for alarm. She could hear him talking rapidly – and in fact quite enthusiastically – with someone. She rolled her eyes as she caught part of their conversation.

'You want to know how to kill a vampire? Seriously? Well...let's think. You've got fire...beheading...umm, you can make him a big garlicky omelette...or go traditional, stake through the heart – BAM!'

His sudden shout took her by surprise and she moved into the living room a bit more quickly. Just in case. From what she'd heard though, it sounded like he was simply discussing vampires with the journalist. Quite plausible really, given his show drew heavily on vampire mythology. Entering the living room she felt her heart rate calm as she found him perfectly unharmed.

He'd clearly not bothered to change out of his costume yet as he was slouched unsavourily in his favourite wing-backed chair, wearing only his leather trousers and boots. She could tell he'd noticed her arrival because he hurriedly sat up, resuming a much more polite posture. Guiltily, he attempted to hide his glass of Midori, knowing full well that drinking before Fright Night never went down well with either Rose or Donna.

'Rose!' Peter squeaked, sounding as surprised as he looked. 'What are you doing up here!?'

'I came to check up on you,' she replied dryly.

Catching sight of a discarded shirt draped haphazardly over the back of a chair, Rose chucked it towards Peter. 'Appearing half-naked in polite company is generally considered rather rude,' she added pointedly.

'That's me,' Peter agreed long-sufferingly. 'Rude and not ginger.'

Rose had long since gotten used to the Doctor occasionally slipping out, and this time was no different. She kept her expression schooled neutrally, although she needn't have bothered as Peter was entirely distracted by the task of pulling on the T-shirt she'd given him.

'Happy?' he asked sarcastically once he was done.

'Immeasurably,' she replied dead-pan, before dropping decisively into one of the free chairs. They'd been arranged into a circle, so she was sat with Peter on her left and the stranger on her right. Rose turned her attention towards him for the first time. 'Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend, Pete?'

'Err...this is...uh...'

Rose rolled her eyes and wondered why she'd bothered to ask Peter.

'Rose Tyler,' she said warily, offering her hand to the boy. 'And you are?'

The boy shifted nervously before taking her hand and gripping it surprisingly firmly, if a little unsurely.

'Charley Brewster,' he supplied. 'I'm from the Vegas Sun.'

It almost sounded like a question, and Rose felt her eyebrow rise of its own accord.

'Are you really?' she asked politely, staring deliberately at the fake ID card. She'd noticed immediately that Charley had simply torn the banner off a copy of the Las Vegas Sun and shoved it into a cheap plastic ID sleeve. How he'd managed to get past security Rose couldn't fathom, but thankfully he didn't strike her as posing too much of a threat. Apart from his obvious youth she could tell he hadn't put much thought into his disguise. For one thing, the blazer he was wearing clearly belonged to someone with much broader shoulders than he. In fact his whole get up cried impromptu and Rose began to wonder why Charley had sought Peter out. Surprisingly though the boy didn't back down from her blunt question.

'Yeah,' he replied firmly, meeting Rose's gaze boldly.

Charley seemed determined to keep up the charade, and the fact that Peter had yet to question his credentials seemed to have bolstered his confidence. Briefly, Rose considered calling him out but decided to let it play out for the moment. After all, he looked to be seventeen at most, and if his backpack was anything to go by he was definitely still in school.

'Of course you are,' she replied easily. 'Now, I believe you two were in the middle of a discussion...?'

Charley nodded warily.

'Well, don't mind me,' she said cheerfully, turning expectantly towards Peter.

His eyes narrowed minutely, undoubtedly suspicious of her enthusiasm; Peter knew very well that Rose didn't share the same level of interest in vampires as he did.

'We're talking about vampires,' he said slowly, testing the waters. 'I really don't think you'll be interested in sticking around.'

Rose smiled disarmingly before turning attentively towards Charley. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Peter glance longingly towards his abandoned Midori glass before deciding it was a lost cause. He too returned his attention to Charley and waved impatiently for the boy to continue on with his questions.

'All that stuff you mentioned,' Charley began hesitantly, '...stakes...and beheading...it really works?'

'Well,' Peter replied, drawing out the word, 'maybe not the omelette.'

Rose noticed that despite the casual question, Charley seemed dissatisfied with the lazy answer. Peter must have noticed as well because his eyebrows shot up incredulously before he expanded upon his answer.

'How the fuck should I know?'

'Aren't...' Charley began hesitantly, before changing tact suddenly. He was clearly nervous and Rose watched as he shook his head helplessly, searching for some answer that Peter wasn't giving. 'I dunno...you have all this stuff...you...you're "Peter Vincent"...vampire...I dunno...'

There was something about this boy that set Rose on edge. He was clearly terrified, and for some bizarre reason he'd come to seek answers from Peter. It was very, very odd. Apparently she wasn't the only one feeling uncomfortable either. Rose glanced across at Peter, watching him fidget as he listened to the younger man. For some reason Peter was bothered by Charley. In fact he was rattled enough for his tendency towards rudeness to resurface without warning.

'I read books man,' he scoffed incredulously. 'What? You think...you think I'm hanging out with Dracula? And the Easter Bunny? Fuck off!'

He stood then, and swaggered over to his countertop leaving Rose with Charley. She watched him go but resisted the urge to follow him over to the countertop. Rose could tell Peter was on edge, but she needed the rest of Charley's story to come out and so she made no move to stop the boy as he pursued Peter to the countertop.

'Look, I'm sorry,' Charley said hastily, hefting his backpack nervously onto his shoulder. 'But I have a personal interest in this. I think one of them got my friend.'

Rose snapped upright from her slouched position, suddenly invested one hundred percent in the conversation.

'What?' Peter replied sceptically, his concentration fixed on the glass of water he was pouring. '"One of them"? Meaning a vampire?'

'Yeah, Jerry,' Charley replied hurriedly, glad that Peter was listening to him. 'He lives next door to me.'

'Jerry?' Peter repeated sarcastically. 'Jerry the Vampire?'

He laughed loudly, and his relief was almost palpable. Rose realised then that Peter thought Charley was joking. Something about Charley had initially put him on edge but the name "Jerry" had clearly put him at ease. The opposite was true for Rose. She was more certain than ever now that Charley was involved with something extra-terrestrial. His desperation and his story were simply not adding up for her. This wasn't some teenager out to pull a prank on Peter Vincent. This was a boy who was only just holding it together, and he was someone who was desperate for answers.

'Look, do you think I don't know how this sounds!?' Charley exclaimed frustratingly, his tone tinged with anxiety. 'I mean two days ago I would have...I would have laughed in my face...but it's really happening. Man, I am so far down the rabbit hole...'

Rose was watching Peter closely and she noticed the moment his amusement disappeared. In an instant his expression became serious as the glass of water he'd been lifting to drink from was halted midway to his lips. His gaze was fixed directly on Charley, but even from the other side of the room Rose could see the fear blossoming within the brown irises. Peter was properly scared, and that worried Rose.

'Look...' Charley continued, completely oblivious to Peter's change in demeanour. 'I was in his house...or his lair or whatever...and I got these pictures...if you just look at them!'

Charley had pulled out several sheets of crumpled paper, and he was hurriedly smoothing them out as he stumbled through his explanation. What he hadn't noticed was that Peter had taken several steps backwards, determined to put as much space between him and the sheets of paper as possible. He was terrified.

'Okay, okay,' Peter said flatly. 'Get out.'

'No, please,' Charley cried desperately, looking beseechingly towards Rose as though hoping she might change Peter's mind.

'You're a nut job,' Peter concluded resolutely, his back flush to the wall. 'Rose?' he called urgently, his eyes begging her to get him out of this situation.

Charley spared her the briefest of glances as he caught sight of her moving from her seat. He'd obviously sensed that he was about to be kicked out and he shot her a pleading look before turning back to Peter once more.

'I'm not a nut job. I know what I saw.'

'No, no, no,' Peter cut in immediately, his speech hurried and his eyes wide as he crossed his arms protectively across his body. 'No, you don't. Illusion, remember? People see what they want to see. This is...'

Peter trailed off, apparently incapable of putting his thoughts into words. Charley ignored his distress though, far too anxious to forestall now, and instead he attempted to capitalise on Peter's momentary loss of speech.

'You don't collect this stuff; you don't have all this stuff if you don't believe. And I promise you, I can take you to him. I can show you what you've been waiting for –'

'What? In Clark County, Nevada?' Peter snapped tightly, his voice rough with suppressed emotion. 'Yeah, well that's a hot bed of supernatural activity.'

Rose could tell he was very close to losing it as he once more looked beseechingly towards her, silently pleading with her to get Charley out of his home. The boy wasn't quite done though.

'It is though, it's genius...it's genius. It's a transient population. People work all night...they sleep all day...'

Silently Rose stepped forward, finally reaching Charley's side. The boy wasn't going to stop, and Peter didn't need to hear this. She'd heard enough now to know that Charley wasn't making this up.

'Get this loser out of my sight, please,' Peter requested tightly, falling back on sharp insult. It was a defence mechanism he had, and one Rose hadn't seen employed for a long time. She made to reach out for Charley's arm, sensing that Peter needed to be left alone now. The boy saw her coming though and pulled his arm away from her before she could grasp him.

'Look, STOP!' Charley shouted, thumping his fist down upon the countertop.

Rose jumped.

'Woah!' Peter exclaimed, looking livid.

'Look, he got my friend already,' Charley shouted frantically, startling both Rose and Peter.

Rose felt her heart go out to the boy as she saw the fight leave him, as he finally revealed the reason behind his visit. Her instincts had been right.

'I am not crazy. I mean...I'm not!? I don't wanna know this shit! Please, just look at these pictures!'

Peter lunged forward and for a moment Rose thought he was going to manhandle the boy, but at the last minute he stopped short, pulling up so that he was directly in Charley's face.

'GET THE FUCK, OUT OF MY HOUSE!'

There could be no mistaking Peter's wishes now, and Charley seemed to realise that as well. Meekly he allowed Rose to pull him from the room. She cast one brief glance back at Peter, reassuring herself that he was okay to be left alone for a few minutes. He was still standing by the counter, the only outward sign of his distress the pressure he was exerting as he gripped himself tightly around the middle; as though he were trying very hard to hold himself upright by grip alone. He was quite obviously not alright, but she knew he'd be fine alone for a few moments. Silently she guided Charley into the lift. It was only once the doors had sealed shut, and she'd selected their destination, that she turned to the boy and spoke to him.

'I'd like you to meet two friends of mine, Charley. I think they might just be able to help you with your vampire problem.'

o0o

Peter had moved by the time Rose made it back upstairs. She'd left Charley with Donna and Martha, promising the boy that there was no one better to help him than them. He'd simply seemed relieved that someone was taking him seriously. Rose was certain that together Donna and Martha would get to the bottom of "Jerry the Vampire". Given her suspicions that Jerry hailed from somewhere a little further abroad than Charley was thinking, Martha and Donna were the best people in Las Vegas to help him. Meanwhile, that left Rose to deal with Peter, and looking at him now she wasn't entirely sure her task was going to be any easier.

He'd moved outside onto the small balcony that adorned his penthouse. Rose had never seen him use the space before as it was rather cramped and generally unappealing at the best of times. It took her a moment to locate the sliding door that granted access to the balcony, and the moment she stepped out she realised just how cold it was outside. Despite nearing the end of winter the temperatures had been record-breaking low for the past month, and Rose could see her breath already forming before her. Not to mention they were half a dozen storeys above ground and completely at the mercy of the blistering wind chill factor. She pulled her loose jacket more tightly around her and hurried over to where Peter was leant up against the railing. He didn't seem to notice her arrival, his gaze eerily blank as he stared into nothingness. Concerned, Rose reached out for him, realising as she did so that he was only wearing the raggedy t-shirt she'd forced upon him an hour ago. He hadn't put on a jacket before stepping outside. She let out a gasp as she came into contact with his bare arm.

'You're freezing!' she cried in alarm, automatically beginning to rub his arm in a half-hearted attempt to warm him up again. 'Come inside before you catch your death!'

He didn't seem to hear her, remaining unresponsive as Rose futilely attempted to continue warming him.

'Pete?' she called gently, realising that he was completely lost in his thoughts. Her plea must have registered with him though, for a moment later he turned his blank eyes upon her. Rose held his gaze, and in a matter of blinks clarity and recognition returned. Smiling kindly, Rose reached for his hand and entwined their fingers without thought before leading him back inside.

Ensuring the sliding door was properly secured so that the cool air would remain outside where it belonged, she guided him towards the fireplace. His fingers were icy to the touch and his cheeks were blotched red by the cold; he needed to be warmed up, and quickly. Without really thinking about it Rose stood him as close to the roaring fire as possible before gently guiding first his left hand and then his right hand beneath her jacket, in a sort of bear hug. Stepping closer, she pulled herself flush against him and allowed her own body heat to warm him up.

He'd stiffened initially as she'd guided his first hand under her jacket, but he'd seemed to catch on fairly quickly to her intentions and she'd felt him relax as she'd pulled him closer. His chin was resting comfortably on the crown of her head now, and she could feel his single heart beating steadily beneath her cheek as she rested against his chest. She'd had to hold back a shiver as she'd guided his freezing hands beneath her jacket – her thin t-shirt no barrier to his frozen digits – but now she could feel they were rapidly warming up to a much more acceptable temperature. Currently, they approximated the Doctor's normal body temperature, but that was far too cold for Peter. Still it was progress, and Rose happily allowed the embrace.

She couldn't say how long they stood together, but eventually Peter was warm enough that Rose felt it was time to pull away. He let out a disgruntled sigh as she shifted away from him, pulling back so that she could look up at him.

'What's going on with you?' she asked kindly, reaching up to smooth his hair from his forehead, as she caught sight of his miserable expression.

Reluctantly, he relinquished his hold upon her and moved towards his favourite wing-backed chair, angling himself so that he didn't have to face her. Rose recognised the diversionary tactic, but she wasn't going to let him get away with avoiding her. Peter's reaction to Charley had been bizarre and she wanted to get to the bottom of it.

'Don't do this,' she said quietly, coming around to crouch in front of Peter, so he was forced to meet her gaze. 'Don't shut me out.'

He met her gaze for a moment before glancing away, but not before Rose caught sight of the conflict within the brown irises. She knew then that it wouldn't take much to push him over the edge. He was already so very close to letting her in. Reaching out, she found his hand and grasped it tightly, anchoring him in the moment.

'Peter, please. Let me help you.'

He was silent for several heartbeats before he returned his gaze to Rose's.

'You can't,' he said simply.

He sounded so hopeless that Rose tightened her grip on his limp fingers without thought, attempting vainly to lend him strength through the gesture.

'You don't know that,' she replied stubbornly.

His gaze held an unfamiliar weariness as he studied her quietly, and in that moment it was the Doctor looking back at her, the weight of all his years shining through from within.

'I do,' he said grimly. 'I really do. This is too impossible...you can't possibly help...'

'Impossible is my speciality,' Rose answered with absolute certainty, simply glad that he'd opened up to her. 'I promise you, Peter, I can help. You just need to trust me.'

He shifted uncertainly, and Rose sensed he was on the cusp of blurting it out. She just needed to let him know that she'd be there to catch him.

'You're not alone, Peter. You don't have to carry this burden by yourself. Let me do this for you.'

She squeezed his hand gently and he glanced down at their entwined fingers.

'Why?' he asked softly, his head still bowed.

Rose stared intently at him for a moment, debating her answer, before simply deciding to be honest.

'You know why.'

And deep down Peter did. It wasn't the most straight forward answer Rose could have given him, but at the moment, with the Doctor locked away, it was the best answer she could give him. Peter knew that what he had with Rose was something impossible, and it always had been. He'd loved her before he'd even met her. He didn't pretend to understand how that was possible but somehow, instinctively, he knew that Rose Tyler was the most important person in his life. And she always would be. He realised then that it was time for him to let Rose in. It didn't matter that she was holding herself back from him for the moment, he had faith that someday she too would let him in. He just had to trust her. And he did – more than life itself.

'All this time you've known me, Rose, and you've never once asked me how my parents died,' Peter began impassively. 'Sometimes I wondered if I should tell you. Donna knows. She was there when it all happened. For so long now she's been the only person who has known. But then I met you, Rose Tyler,' he said softly, and for the first time since he'd begun talking he raised his head to meet her gaze. He was momentarily startled by the blatant affection and trust radiating from the warm hazel eyes, and he wondered how it was possible for someone to care so very much about him without knowing. Any doubts about telling Rose vanished in the wake of her expression.

'I knew from that first moment I met you, Rose...' he faltered briefly before regaining his courage. '...I knew you were important to me. I wanted you to know everything about me, but I could never bring myself to tell you. Donna was a child...just like I was...when it happened. I think that made it easier for her to believe...but then she grew up. Properly. And I never did. Nowadays I think she just goes along with it because she doesn't want to hurt my feelings. She doesn't really believe in vampires.'

Peter broke off and looked steadily at Rose, gauging her reaction. She was still crouched before him, her expression as open as before. There was no judgement. Seeing that, Peter took a deep breath and continued on.

'I couldn't tell you, because you're an adult,' he admitted shakily. 'No rational adult would be able to listen to my story without coming to the conclusion that I'm fucking mental.'

Rose stirred at his words. 'You're not mental,' she said gently, squeezing his hand. 'And for the record – I'm not nearly as rational as I appear. I once hitched a ride with a complete stranger. By the time I got back in touch with my mum, it'd been a year. She nearly slapped him into the next universe she was that angry.'

Peter snorted, grateful for the light-heartedness Rose had injected into the conversation.

'He must have been some guy,' Peter commented amusedly.

Rose shot him a tongue-touched grin, her eyes alight with mischief.

'One of a kind,' she answered amusedly.

He couldn't help but grin broadly, amused despite himself. After a moment though he recalled the topic of conversation and sobered slightly. Letting out a sigh, he pulled Rose to her feet and guided her to one of the surrounding wing-backed chairs. Once she'd sat down he returned to his own chair, but he made a point of dragging it closer, so that she was still within reach.

'It happened when I was still living in Gallifrey,' Peter began hesitantly. 'I'd been at the Academy for a few years by then, and that was where I'd met Donna. We were in the same Chapter, in fact the same Class as well. The first time I met her, she accused me of abducting her when I accidentally got us both lost on our first day at the Academy. She spent most of the time yelling at me as I tried to find our way back. Thankfully one of the teachers overheard her screeching and rescued the pair of us. After that little misadventure I was quite certain I'd never be friends with Donna Noble. She proved me wrong though a few days later, when she saved my life. I was exploring one of the swimming pools at the Academy, and managed to fall in and knock myself out. If Donna hadn't seen me wandering off and decided to follow me – because she suspected I was up to no good – I would have drowned,' he admitted sheepishly.

Rose reached for Peter's hand and grasped it tightly, reminding herself that he was still here. She knew for certain that this particular memory had very strong roots in reality. In fact, she'd lived the alternative – where Donna hadn't been there to stop him – and Rose knew very well just how close the Doctor had come to drowning himself that day.

'She pulled me out,' Peter continued, offering Rose a bracing smile as he squeezed her hand reassuringly. 'Wasn't very happy when I woke up, I might add. Yelled at me for a good twenty minutes about how irresponsible I'd been, and how I would most definitely have died if she hadn't come along. She was right of course, but I wasn't going to admit that. Strangely enough, we ended up friends after that. Ever since then she's always been there to stop me when I go too far,' Peter reminisced fondly.

'I'm glad she is,' Rose murmured softly. 'You shouldn't be alone.'

'She was there for me when my parents died,' Peter blurted out, surprising himself with how quickly he'd returned to the guarded topic. Rose said nothing, but the gentle rub of her thumb as she traced circles on the back of his hand was comfort enough. Taking strength from the gesture Peter continued.

'I was ten, when he came,' he said tonelessly. 'It was almost nine o'clock when he knocked on our door. Mother had sent me to bed half an hour beforehand – much to my chagrin. I'd wanted to stay up and read with her, but Father had refused. He answered the door that night. I was still awake so I crept out onto the landing to see who it was, because no one had ever come over so late before. It was the next door neighbour. I heard him ask Father if he could come in. He wanted to borrow something I think...I can't remember what...but Father let him in.'

Peter took a shaky breath, gripping Rose's hand so tightly that he must have been hurting her. She said nothing though, matching his grip as best she could in a show of support.

'That's when it happened,' Peter croaked. 'He just leapt at Father and tore his throat out. Like an animal. I heard Mother scream, but I couldn't take my eyes off the monster. I just...stood there and watched.'

'You were ten, Peter,' Rose cut in gently, sensing his self-disgust as he recalled his ten-year old self's actions. 'You wouldn't have been able to stop him.'

'Mother didn't try to stop him either,' Peter continued quietly. 'She just raced up the stairs and grabbed me. He was still busy with Father, so he didn't notice. Mother pulled me into her room, opened their wardrobe and helped me get up onto the top shelf. She made me promise to stay hidden, and then she shut the door and left.

'I heard her go downstairs...' Peter admitted softly, his voice cracking as he relived the events of that horrific night. 'And then I heard her scream. I heard her screaming as he...as that monster...as he ripped her throat out. I still remember how suddenly she went silent...' Peter added absently, looking towards Rose. There were unshed tears in her eyes, but she was still there at least and that gave Peter the strength to finish what he'd started.

'All I could hear in that cupboard was the sound of my own breathing. It sounded so loud to me, and I tried to muffle it as best I could because I knew something terrible had happened. I'd promised Mother that I wouldn't leave the hiding place, but all I could think about was the sight of Father's throat being ripped apart and Mother's screams. It wasn't too long after Mother had gone silent that I heard him on the stairs,' he continued shakily.

'I remember trying to trick myself into believing that it was Mother – coming back to let me out – but I could tell the footsteps were too heavy. I could hear him moving about upstairs, opening doors, and rifling through all of our cupboards. He went through every single room before he came into my parent's room. I can't tell you what was going through my head...the waiting nearly drove me mad because I could tell he knew exactly where I was...my breathing alone was far too loud. He had to have known where I was. It was all a game to him...making me wait.

'It was almost a relief when he finally opened the wardrobe door and found me. I just wanted it to be over by then. I don't think I understood exactly what dying meant, but I think I assumed it was a bit like waking up from a bad dream and I wanted nothing more than for the nightmare to end. When he found me...he looked exactly like the creature from Hell he was...I was so terrified though that I couldn't even scream. I just stared at him and waited for it to be over.

'But he didn't kill me,' Peter breathed and for the first time Rose could detect anger in his tone. 'He just laughed, and told me that I'd need to find a better hiding place than a wardrobe if I didn't want to be killed next time.'

Rose looked like she wanted to say something but Peter kept talking, wanting to get the last of his story over with.

'I'm not sure how long I waited after I heard him leave before I left my hiding space, but by the time I climbed down it was almost morning. I found my parent's bodies in the hallway. He'd laid them out together for some sick reason, so that they almost looked like they were simply asleep...a final attempt to fuck with my mind undoubtedly...but I could tell they were dead. He'd used their blood to draw his insignia above their bodies. I took one look at that, and then I ran. I didn't really think about where I was going...I just ran...but eventually I turned up at Donna's house. I couldn't tell her parents what had happened but I told her...I told her about the vampire that murdered my parents,' he finished stoically.

Without really thinking about it, Rose stood and pulled Peter up into a hug. He didn't resist, and within seconds his arms were wrapped tightly around her. It was almost painful but she knew that she too was holding him almost as tightly. They stayed like that for a long time as Peter sought comfort from the steady beat of Rose's heart and the warmth of her solid presence within his arms.

'You're the first person I've told in twenty-four years,' Peter murmured quietly, his chest vibrating comfortingly against Rose, and reminding her that he was whole and healthy and perfectly safe in her arms.

After a moment she pulled back so that she could see his face, although she didn't let him out of her grip. Her hazel eyes searched his gaze, looking for something in particular.

'You had to believe that Charley was lying, didn't you? That's why you sent him away.'

It wasn't really a question, but Peter felt compelled to say something in response.

'I can't...not again...it can't be real...'

He took a shaky breath, attempting to rein his emotions in.

'My life was destroyed by that vampire, Rose,' he murmured earnestly. 'I can't face that again...I can't...not now...it's been twenty four years...please, I can't!'

'I know,' Rose comforted, rubbing his back. 'Calm down now...that's right, take a deep breath...can't have you forgetting how to breathe on me now, can I? Few more deep breaths...that's right...slow and steady...better?'

Peter nodded mutely.

'Good,' Rose continued calmly. 'Now, when you're ready, I want you to get up and head downstairs for the show. I don't want you to worry about Charley. I'll sort him out. Whatever reason he had to come and see you, I promise I'll get to the bottom of it.'

Briefly, Peter considered arguing against the idea. He really didn't want to deal with the possibility that Charley was telling the truth, but at the same time he didn't want to burden Rose. Nor did he want to risk her stumbling across a vampire. He was about to protest when he realised just what it was Rose was offering him: the chance to let something slide. She was willing to take on his problems, and that astounded him. Perhaps it was selfish, but just this once he wanted to let go.

And so he did – secure in the knowledge that Rose would always be there to catch him when he fell.