This chapter will be the start of the story and is from Clara's POV.

Sirens started to go off, lights flashing red. I have been with my department of the FBI for five years now, been the head of it for two, and never had the alert go off. So I was reasonably worried now that it did.

I made my way up a flight of stairs into the Base Command room, my heels clicking as they announced my approach. Two of my agents looked up as I entered the room.

"What is it, Wayde?" I asked the brown haired man sitting at one of the security monitors.

"There's one unidentified person in Level 7, Section 34." It was Eric, a dirty blonde, who answered me rather than Wayde. "Should I send a team?"

"No, I'll handle it." I answered, turning away and heading back down the stairs, towards the elevators, pulling my Glock 23 out of its holester.

"Be careful, babe." He called, and waved my hand in acceptance. My department generally handled the "top secret" items and was nicknamed "Area 51" because of all the so-called alien tech we have on the grounds. My department was also very informal, everyone was on a first-name basis, no one called me sir or ma'am, and nicknames popped up all over the place, just like Eric calling me babe.

I tapped my heel as I went down the 5 levels to the 7th floor. When the doors opened, I walked out and headed down the corridor to the 34th section, having entered in the 29th. When I'd reached the 33rd, my radio went off.

"Babe, we think he's in the storage room." Eric said.

"Understood." I answered, and raised my weapon as I reached the first door in Section 34, the storage room. Pushing the door open quietly, I looked around the general area of the door. Nothing. I walked in, looking around me as I went. Nothng for the first few rows. But when I got to the sixth row, I froze. There was a man standing there, looking at the labels on the boxes. He was alone.

Silently making my way up behind him, I cocked my gun and pressed it against the back of his head.

"Give me a reason not to shoot you right this second." I said, rather softly.

He straightened up and I realised he was tall. He has to be at least 5'11", but he wasn't muscular. If it came hand-to-hand, I wasn't sure who'd win. But then again, I had the gun.

"I don't do weapons." He answered with a British accent. It's be a shame to end that voice.

"But I do." I retorted. "Turn around. Slowly."

He did, both his hands in his pockets, the barrel of my gun now pressed against his forehead. He was attractive, I wouldn't deny that. Along with being 5'11", he had long (for a boy's cut) hair that was brown with a hint of auburn in it, dark green eyes, and was wearing a plain brown tweed jacket with elbow patches, a dress shirt, bow tie, suspenders under the jacket and atop the shirt, a gold wrist watch with the clockface pointed towards his body, blue trousers, and black boots.

He was regarding me much the same way I had him. But I had been subtle. He was not. His eyes raked over my body with what I could only describe as amusement in them. Yes, I knew I was, in other people's words, hot, beautiful, that sort of thing. I stand at 5'6", having wavy blonde hair that goes past my shoulders, soft blue eyes and what Eric called a "rockin' hot body".

"Name." I demanded and his eyes raised to my face.

"I'm the Doctor." He answered.

"Doctor is a medical title. Doctor is a scientist's title. Doctor is not a name."

"It's my name." He countered. "So what's yours?"

I debated telling him, then answered, "Wildman. Clara Wildman."

"Well, Clara Wildman, why don't you put the gun down? I'm not armed, and I don't hurt people." I hesitated. "Put the gun down." He tried quietly.

"I'm warning you now; I'm a quick shooter." I said, and he nodded. I lowered the gun.

"Where, and when, is here?"

I gave him an odd look. "This is the FBI's Advanced Research of Unknown Objects base. The date is September 18, 2012."

"2012." He repeated. "Interesting year it was. Tell me, Clara, how old are you?"

I stared at him, and I don't know why, but I answered him. "I'm 23." I blanked. "How the hell did you get here?"

"My ship."

"Your... ship?"

"Yes, yes." He smiled at me again. "Now, take me to your leader." For some reason, this was funny to him.

"I am my leader. I run this base." I announced.

"Well, take me to your... minors, then." He announced, and I motioned for him to follow me.

He is most definitely a strange man. And I don't know why I didn't pull the tigger, and why I lowered my gun, but I had. I was taking him back to the command center, and what would I tell my agents? That he was "the Doctor"? When I woke up this morning, I hadn't touch I'd be dealing with anything remotely like this.

I grabbed my radio and said into, "Eric, I'm coming back with the unidentified from Section 34."