Author's Note: Yay! Two people are actually reading! Thanks so much guys, I really appreciate it seeing how hard I worked on this. Sorry to keep you waiting for this chapter. Link to soundtrack for this chapter found in Chapter 1.

Disclaimer: I only own Bree... and a few less-than-sonic screwdrivers.

Chapter 3:

In that pause of silence though, the Doctor noticed something, "Hold on…" he stopped shaking Bree's hand and listened very carefully. "Bree?" he asked turning about and looking towards her closet.

"Yeah?" she answered anxiously, judging by his face, something bad was about to happen.

"You wouldn't happen to be hiding a very large grandfather clock in your closet, would you?"

"Er, no."

He sighed, "Yeah, oh well, here we go again," and he withdrew his odd, blue-lighted, flashlight again. "Now, Bree, I want you to listen to me very carefully, stay behind me at all times, but I'm going to need you to help me communicate with it at first so only address it when I say and only ask it what I tell you to, got it?"

Bree was very confused, but answered promptly, "Yes."

"Good and never fear, this'll be fun!" and with that he flashed a charming grin and opened her closet door. And from her closet strode out, rather mechanically, a person. The Doctor pointed his flashlight at it in a threatening pose that even Bree felt like she wouldn't want to stand in front of.

"All right, you've shown yourself, so what're you doing here?" he demanded sharply. He noted, though, that despite being a full three hundred years into the future, they were still dressed the same, he couldn't figure out why that would be and decided to save that mystery for later.

The creature cocked its' head sharply and fixed the Doctor with a blank look, though from behind the Parisian mask it looked rather menacing. "Fine," he addressed, "Bree, now's when I need you to talk to it, first address it, see if you can get it to respond."

"But what is it?" Bree asked, "I can't address it if I don't know what it is."

The Doctor made a half-shrug, "It's just a robot," he muttered.

Bree was way out of her depth, but did as the Doctor ordered, "You, robot," she tried. And the robot responded, now straightening its' head back to look at her properly. Bree gasped finding it looking at her, "Um… what now Doctor?"

"Well, now that we know it's here for you, tell it that it must respond to all of my questions."

"Here for me?" Bree looked up at the Doctor.

"I'll explain later, but now…" and he gave her a meaningful look.

Bree coughed, "Okay, robot, answer everything that the Doctor asks."

The robot did not move, but a strange, digital voice issued from within it, "I am prepared to accept these terms."

"Right then," and the Doctor took over, tucking away his flashlight, "like I said, what're you here for, eh? Need her brain, is it? Because if that's it then I'll do you in just like I did your cousins, got that? They didn't get Reinette's brain and you're not getting Bree's."

Bree was so disconcerted by these sentences she barely even reacted.

The robot took a moment to respond, "Your statements are incorrect."

"Well then, why are you here?" the Doctor leaned forward, hands jammed in pockets.

"She is incomplete," came the automatic response.

"Oh blimey, not this again!" the Doctor leaned away, rolling his eyes, "look you nitwits, I had gathered that since she was still here there was obviously a reason why you hadn't taken her, so don't give me that. Why do you need her? Tell me."

Bree, despite the fact that she was aware that her life may hang in the balance, was rather amused by these proceedings. The robots and the Doctor evidently had a curious history together.

If the robot had been able to swallow, it would have then, and then said, "Our master needs her."

"What?! Why does he need her? Who's your master?" the Doctor was now more confused than frustrated by the answers.

The robot seemed to shift uncomfortably, but it was a halting motion, "Information is locked."

"What?!" the Doctor was starting to look perturbed.

"Information is locked," it repeated.

"How can it be locked? How… oh, hold on. Mind of a computer chip, you're being controlled by someone, your master, so they've locked part of your memory from outside sources, oh that's clever." The Doctor scratched his chin thoughtfully.

Bree was about to ask him to explain when he continued, "But I'm a time lord," and so saying, the Doctor sallied forth and placed his hand over where the temples of the robot would be.

Suddenly the robot began to jolt around and smoke, "Information is locked, information is locked," it repeated over and over again. The Doctor stepped back, "No, no, no, no, no! You can't!" But whoever was controlling the robot evidently disagreed with the Doctor and no sooner had the Doctor stepped back then the robot shorted out, collapsing at the waist.

"What happened?" Bree asked, just a teeny bit freaked out by that last part.

"It was told to self-destruct. Whoever's controlling it must not have wanted to take any chances or is just really cruel," the Doctor ran a hand through his hair, trying to think.

"Um, okay, but… what were you doing before that?"

"Me? Oh, I was trying to access the memory files, and I should've been able to get to them. How could they be locked?"

The Doctor began to pace and Bree was afraid to interrupt, but was too curious, "You… said something about being a time lord? …What's that?"

That stopped the Doctor cold, he had made a stupid blunder, "Oh no…" he murmured to himself.

"What?" Bree frowned.

The Doctor drew in a deep breath and faced Bree, preparing for the worst, "Bree… I'm an alien."

Bree blinked once, "And?"

The Doctor stared at her.

"What?"

The Doctor blinked, "You…" he started, but couldn't find words to finish his sentence.

"So what's a time lord have to do with being an alien?" Bree folded her arms to wait.

The Doctor's mouth fell open a little bit, then it clicked, "Wait a minute… you knew! The whole time you knew I was an alien!"

"Yeah, pretty much," Bree smiled at the Doctor, a little smug in fact.

"How?"

"When a man falls out of my mirror and then nonchalantly says it was because of a time-and-space portal and then introduces himself as a nameless Doctor you might start to wonder if he's really from earth or just insane. As far as I can tell, you're too clever to be insane," the Doctor smiled then, "so I figured you must be an alien, which would make a lot of sense," she added, glancing at the deceased robot.

"Yeah," the Doctor agreed, looking at it too.

"So, what's a time lord?"

"It's the race of alien I am," the Doctor replied, seemingly absently. He hoped she wouldn't pry any further.

"But, what does that mean?" she inquired.

"Bree, now is not the time to play 20 questions, all right?"

Bree nodded, despite his outer calmness and gentility, she felt that the Doctor really did not want to talk about who he was, so much so that Bree was not going to press him about it.

"Good, now then, fancy an adventure?" he grinned faintly in preparation for the next adrenaline rush.

"An adventure? Now?" Bree raised a quizzical brow.

"Yes now," he answered giving her a mildly condescending look of shock, "no time like the present," his grin deepened.

"But it's the middle of the night; I'm not even dressed, what about my parents ... ?" she began to rattle off a list of a hundred reasons why she couldn't do exactly what she'd been secretly hoping for since he tumbled through her mirror.

The Doctor, seeing that it would take all night to reassure her, threw his head back in a dramatic eye roll and grabbed her hand, "Come on!" he called and pulled her through the mirror at a gallop.