A/N: I'm SO sorry! I COMPLETELY FORGOT about an A/N last chapter! GAH! Right, so THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU all my readers! You're brilliant and lovely and wonderful and remind me why I wrote this in the first place. Just, be patient with me. I promise to start updating more regularly now (Since we've got a WAYS to go…)

Chapter 5:

"So, we're trying to get out of here without using that door and then find these robots' master, right?"

"Yep," the Doctor nodded, glancing around, "If there were only a rogue console somewhere maybe I could figure out…"

"What about a ventilation shaft?" Bree interrupted, looking above.

The Doctor looked up too, "Oh, no, why is it always ducts?" he sighed and tsk-ed to himself.

"What's wrong with ducts?"

"Oh nothing, except they tend to inflict claustrophobia which leads to an easier panic, especially if you're being chased by possessed Oods through them," the Doctor groaned, which turned into a growl at the end. Even if he had been dangling through a very, very deep pit, Rose had told him about their adventure through the vents while trying to escape the Satan-possessed Ood.

Bree pretended to understand him, "Right…"

"Right, Bree, stand back, this a job for a screwdriver, preferably sonic," he grinned at her before reaching up towards the screw and letting the blue light of the screwdriver shine brightly. "One," he caught the screws as they fell, "two… three, four, oops!" The grate fell on Bree's head.

"Aaaah…" she moaned, rubbing her head.

"Sorry," he apologized, "now up you get," he extended a hand to her. She took it and he pulled her in front of him, then shifted his hands to her waist to lift her up where she could pull herself into the shaft. Bree attempted to ignore how warm and strong his hands felt and scrambled for a grip to heave herself all the way in. "I can't pull myself through," she announced at length, regretfully.

The Doctor set her down, "Are you sure?" He glanced up, "I could fit through there."

Bree felt a bit insulted by this, "Uh!" she articulated, hurt. The Doctor paid no heed and instead hoisted himself up into the metal box. "All right now, Bree, I want you to give me your arms and I'll pull you up, got it?"

"Okay," she answered, having no choice but to trust him. She reached her muscle-lacking arms up to him on tip toe, it wasn't her fault she was only average height. Luckily though, the Doctor was tall and therefore had long arms himself and could reach down enough to pull her in, well, until he ran out of leverage and ended up pulling her all the way on top of him.

"Hi," Bree smiled brilliantly, quite content lying on top of him.

"Get off," the Doctor commanded, pushing himself out from under her. Bree pursed her lips in disappointment and mockingly rolled her eyes at the Doctor behind his back.

"Right, so…" the Doctor, crouched on his hands and knees looked about, "this way," he gestured forward, which also went up, and lead the way.

Bree followed suit with a raised eyebrow, "Any particular reason we're going this way?"

The Doctor would have shrugged, "Just a hunch."

Bree sighed, but conceded to herself that if she had to follow anyone's hunch, she was glad she was following his.

"Ah, here we go!" the Doctor exclaimed after not too long. He pushed the vent grate away and stuck his head up, Bree right behind him. "Oh…" the Doctor said unhelpfully, finding that they were surrounded by the clockwork robots, each with a threatening looking blade stuck out at them.

"Bad hunch," Bree whispered. "Yeah, um, RUN!" the Doctor shouted and whipped out the sonic screwdriver.

Bree ducked back into the tunnel, "I think you mean crawl," she shouted back, but shuffled forward as fast as she dared before setting her pajamas alight. "Crawl faster then!" called the Doctor, not far behind just as Bree heard an explosion.

"What was that?" she shrieked. "I heated up the computer… sonic screwdrivers, not just for fixing," the Doctor had by now reached her and Bree had the opportunity to look back and catch his blindingly gleeful face.

"Keep going!" the Doctor reminded her sharply. "Oh fine," she stomped a bit in her crawling, and unfortunately, stomped on the wrong part of the vent because it gave way and now she and the Doctor were sliding down a metal chute.

"AAAAAH!" they screamed in unison, sliding very quickly down somewhere unknown. And then a heart-stopping drop to the floor below, 'oof', and it was all over.

The time the Doctor fell on top of Bree. "Now, what is this?" the Doctor asked curiously.

"Ack!" was Bree's response, being fairly squished beneath the Doctor. "What? Oh sorry," he got off her and helped her up. Bree gasped, then remarked, "For being so skinny, you sure weigh a lot."

The Doctor rolled his eyes, "First thing everyone sees: skinny," he muttered. "So where are we?" Bree asked glancing around.

"Well, I think we've made it to the engine room, or one of them at least," the Doctor walked over to a complicated looking board of knobs and great, big, threatening buttons and pulled out the sonic screwdriver. "This ship is practically in mint condition so they don't need you to repair it," he extrapolated after a moment, returning the screwdriver to his pocket.

"Um, yeah, could you explain why they would need me for that?" Bree decided that now would be an appropriate time to ask questions.

The Doctor turned to her, "Last time I saw these robots, and these might even be the same robots although I don't know how that could happen, they were repairing their ship using pieces of people, including the brain of one girl from 18th century France, well, tried to."

Bree blinked, "Well… glad to know that's not why they want me," she winced thinking about a ship made out of people.

"Well, now that that's cleared up, want to go look for their master or find a way out?"

Bree yawned at him, "Under the circumstances of being chased by deadly robots and having school tomorrow, I vote we get out. If it was the weekend though, I'd follow you all over," Bree grinned at him.

The Doctor actually cracked a smile in return, "All right," the Doctor looked down either way they could go. "Okay, this way," he said and took off to the left.

"Wait," Bree called as she began to follow, "why this way?"

The Doctor shrugged, "Another hunch?" Bree stared at him, "No," she said flatly, "no more hunches. There has to be a reason why we're going this way or we're going the other way."

"Why?" the Doctor inquired, hurt.

"Because your last hunch led us straight to them," Bree retorted in an accusatory tone.

"Nah, that was just a bad hunch, c'mon!" he grabbed her hand, forcing her along, "This way!"

Bree moaned, but ran alongside him anyway. And they jogged on for awhile until; lo and behold, they ran into another robot. "What'd I tell you?" Bree glared at him half-heartedly. "It's only one," the Doctor retorted, "Right, you robot."

The robot halted its' approach, sharp implement extended.

"Yes you, what're you up to, why are you down here, all of your mates are upstairs running around looking for us, that's not what you're doing."

The robot answered promptly, "I run the engines."

"Oh, so you have your own unique job, eh? Different from your other little friends? Then maybe you can answer a question, your master needs her, Bree," he gestured to Bree, "why? What's special about Bree?" he phrased the question carefully to avoid having the robot self-destruct like last time.

The robot cocked its head in that disturbing fashion the other one had, "She is the last one."

"What? The last one what? What is she?" the Doctor pestered.

"She is the last one," the robot repeated obstinately.

The Doctor groaned, "Oh come on, what do you mean the last one? You mean all of the rest of her kind are dead?"

"Yes," the robot answered.

The Doctor looked gob smacked; he hadn't actually expected an answer to that question, "How could… she isn't…" he glanced at Bree worriedly then back to the robot, "What is she then, tell me what she is; why does your master need her?" he asked furiously. But the robot was smoking, you could hear the gears inside gyrating in frenzy, but they soon came to an untimely stop and the robot fell forward.

Bree swallowed, "What did it mean? What's it talking about, last of my kind?"

"I don't know, Bree," the Doctor answered truthfully, his dark eyes were fraught with anxiety though.

There were only a select number of species in this time frame that were extinct or near extinction, and even fewer could pass as humanoids, in fact, there was only one and he was it. So what was she?

"Well, I think we'd better get back to the TARDIS as soon as possible then, allons y!" The Doctor took her hand again and led her onwards.

"Okay Doctor," she agreed, "but when we get there, I want some questions answered."

The Doctor signed, "Bree, I really don't know what that robot meant. If I did, I would tell you."

"No, not about me, about you. Who are you? What's a Time Lord? Where are you from? What about the TARDIS? How does it travel in time?"

The Doctor groaned loudly, "Questions, questions, questions, always pestering me with questions," the Doctor gave up, "fine, I'll tell you what you want to know, but we have to get there first."

"Good," Bree smiled. And in a relatively short amount of time with only one more minor run-in with the robots, Bree and the Doctor arrived back at the TARDIS.