Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who nor any of it'd characters and species. I do however own Peter, he's my creation ok? Oh and it's 10th Doctor, you know, David Tennent the really sexy and slightly insane one.

Half Like Me

Chapter Three, (Peter's Memories and POV)

I remember the tiring work from an early age, helping in both the harvest and the sewing season. I broke many bones, cut my arms and legs and face frequently. And I worked on that farm until I turned thirteen when my mother was burned by our Lord, accused of madness.

"My sons father did not come from our world!" she'd screamed for days in fever and that was what started to rumours of her madness, of her witchcraft and her dalliances with the Devil. They locked me in the Lords dungeon so I couldn't even try to save her, all I could do was close my eyes and cover my ears to block out her screams. Nothing could stop the smell of her burning flesh though, that's a smell I'm sad to say I have smelt since.

I left the village then, travelling to London and I stayed there until I was twenty five, by which time I had realised what my mother had warned me about, I was different. I wasn't aging like the people around me, I still looked like I had the day I turned eighteen years old.

My life was fine for about three hundred years, I moved around a lot doing odd jobs and living like an animal most of the time. There were wars of course, many and a new King or Queen every few years, and religions thanks the Henry VIII. Do you know Mary I, i.e. Mary Queen of Scots, known to…well everyone as Bloody Mary was a right hoot to live under…not, I am joking. Course when the Civil War came around I actually ended up fighting in that one, can't quite remember what side but I wasn't killed, I know that much as I'm still here talking to you.

I went abroad soon after that was over, to France. Don't know why, just felt like going to France. I was there for the Revolution, saw Madame Guillotine in action, sadly many times as the Upper Classes were executed for being born lucky. Saw a whole family with four young children go up once but they were saved, the children I mean, by someone unknown. The mother and father still died though. Do you know I almost got caught up in the Napoleonic wars, got ordered to join the French army so I went back to England where I was ordered to join the British army. Silly eh?

Trouble started when I ended up living in a place I had before and an old man recognised me…from his youth. Luckily that time it was put down to an old man's mind going but still I left. I tried to find places to stay that I hadn't been before but more and more times older people recognised me. I realised I needed to span out, go to different countries like I had when I went to France. Unfortunately I had to wait quite a while till I could manage to.

I ravelled around Europe for a few years, until Queen Victoria came into power really and somehow I managed to pick the languages up very quickly. Germany back then was a beautiful place, the people so friendly to a weary traveller. One lass fell in love with me once, a nice pretty little thing with blonde hair but I had to leave, it wouldn't have worked once she found out my secret. I was always wary of someone finding out.

For some reason I ended up in England again in the mid 1800's, working in the odd factory around the country and on the newly experimental railways. They weren't safe you know, loads of people died on them in the early years of their use. Sometimes it was really horrible. The Queen was a good one considering the other ones I'd seen in the past, had lots of children if I remember my trip to London correctly when I saw the painting of them in the free gallery, some of them were really beautiful.

I lived on the streets of London for twenty years, longest time I stayed in one place but no one noticed because no one noticed a homeless person. Except for other homeless people of course but London's a big city, I'd stay in one place for about a year and then move to another. Most homeless people died in that time anyway. I saw Bernardo take boys off the streets and give them a home, nobody did anything like that for the girls or the men and women on the street, they just ended up in the workhouse. I almost did once but I had to escape, people never came out of workhouses, they'd have noticed my un-aging.

Then came World War 1, that's the first major thing in my past after the Victorian Era. The War to End all Wars. This time I did end up joining up, conscription after the Battle of the Somme in late 1916. I saw things I hope never to see again in the trenches of France, we lived in mud up to our waist, our feet rotting in our boots. We charged at the enemy with bayonets against machine guns. I saw people ripped in half, I saw people step on mines, I saw people executed for cowardice, I was part of a firing squad once. I can't tell you how glad I was when the war was over, when I returned to England.

You know the saying that time heals all wounds? Well it doesn't. My mental wounds from that war are still as fresh today as they ever were but I, along with the rest of the world learned to cope. We went into an era of parties and fashion, the 20's. Wonderful time to get over a war in, far too much alcohol for what was good for us but boy was it fun. I went to America during the 20's, decided to branch out even further. New York City, 1926, prohibition and all that Jazz. And the Flapper's, oh wow the legs some of those girls had.

Course it couldn't last, thanks to Hitler. Second World War. Once again I end up fighting, this time for America which can I just say was an experience and a half. They do things very differently over there. I went back to England with them, back to France, Germany. It was too cold, too hot, it rained, it snowed, it bombed, oh were there bombs after bombs after bombs. And I'm not just talking about the Blitz. Everywhere I went we got bombed. I saw more horrific sights, not more as in worse than the first time round, more as in the number of them. I saw more men die, I saw men and women and children die. I saw Concentration Camps in Germany, that stank of rotting flesh, people with numbers tattooed into their arms, so thin you could count ever bone on their body.

I survived once again but someone in the Army had reported how I didn't age in the war, how I didn't change one bit. No wrinkles, no beard which I really should have had being eighteen but I can't explain why I don't have one, nothing changed. So when we got shipped back to America…you know I was considering staying in England like some of the men were. Anyway so when I got back they locked me up and for a year they examined me, no explanations but then again I didn't need one, I knew why they had me.

The next ten years I spent in a maximum security cell away from everything, Doctor's coming one after another trying to figure out what was wrong with me. They didn't seem to care that I was a person, that I might have had family that was worried about me but I didn't so that's beside the point. After that I got moved to where you found me. That was 1956. I was there for fifty years before you rescued me, fifty years of solitude and experiments, operations and tests. Sixty years of confinement and a whole lifetime of hiding.

And that Doctor is my story.

A/N There we go, I had to have a chapter like this, to see inside Peter's head. Helps that I took GCSE and A-Level History. R&R.