"Uh…" Mark's mouth hung open. Something strange was going on.

Chica jumped out of Mark's arms and immediately started to sniff 'the Doctor', who responded with a look of sheer delight. "Oh! And what's your name, then, eh?" He laughed, seeming to listen for a response. "Chica! That's a lovely name, love a good Chica!" He grinned happily and began to scratch behind Chica's ears with an outstretched hand.

Mark stared dumbfounded. He had no idea what was going on. Slowly but surely - and still quite a bit shaky - he stood up.

"Right then! Back on track! Not that dogs aren't on track, lovely people, dogs, wish I had one. Anyway! From what good ol' Chica Beaka here told me, your name is Mark, right?" The Doctor continued lean over and pet Chica as he looked up at Mark.

"From what Chica… told you." Mark frowned. This was all a bit surreal for him. "Never mind that. Just…" he swore. "What the heck is going on?"

"Oh, right! Yeah! Sorry about the crash landing, I took a wrong turn while trying to get to the 1980s, might have been a good thing, altogether, but anyway! Back to the subject, Mark! Lovely name, that. What's the date, by the way?"

"Uh… it's the middle of July, I think the 18th. 2017." Mark added the year for good measure. "But you still haven't told me -"

"Right, right. Kind of dangerous being here, I think. Might run into myself, considering I usually hang about the 2000s. Oh well! Anyway, what were you saying?"

Mark sighed. "Who are you, exactly?"

"I'm the Doctor. I told you that already." The Doctor frowned as Chica bounded back to her owner.

"That's not much of an answer." Mark frowned back. "It's not even a name. And then there's the fact that you just crash landed a box right next to me and my dog, scaring us both half to death. We could have died!" The Doctor tried to respond, but was cut off. "I'm pretty sure we need some answers, Doctor, and I'm pretty sure we need them now."

Mark knew it wasn't much of a threat, but his heart sank as he saw the Doctor visibly crumple under invisible guilt. As the Doctor opened his mouth to speak, Mark noticed the man's eyes. Gone was the happy-go-lucky demeanor, replaced by a look so unmistakably old and sad and tired and alien.

"I'm sorry. I'm - I'm so, so sorry. I - oh, Rose, Martha, Donna, what have I done now?" The Doctor sank to the ground.

"It's - it's fine, man. I didn't mean anything. Please, I didn't mean anything, just - just look at me, okay?" Mark rushed over and awkwardly attempted to comfort the man. He felt awful for hurting him - words were a weapon he seldom used as such, and it felt terrible to be on the giving end.

Mark stayed close to the Doctor, offering what little comfort he could. Chica did a better job than he did, making sure to lick away the man's tears and snuggle as close as possible. Soon the sobs that wracked his body subsided. They sat in silence for a few minutes, thinking.

The Doctor stood up abruptly and walked towards a blue box sitting a few feet away. Mark was taken aback. Why hadn't he noticed it before?

"So! Mark!"

Mark stood up. "Yeah, Doc?"

"Doc?" The Doctor frowned. "Well, not the worst thing people have called me, I supposed. But back on track." He grinned abruptly. "I'm the Doctor. I'm a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey. I'm almost a thousand years old and -"

"Sounds a bit stuck up if you ask me," smirked Mark.

"Yeah, well, I didn't choose the name." The Doctor half smiled, half frowned. He ran his hand through his hair, making it stick up even more. "Anyway. I'm not just a Time Lord, I'm the last of the Time Lords. And I owe you something."

"What would that something be?" Mark asked cautiously, walking over to the box. It looked strangely like something from earth, even with the words 'Police Public Call Box' printed at the top. There was a blue light coming from a lantern-like object on top of the box, giving the surrounding area an unearthly glow.

"Well, I don't know." The Doctor smiled, and opened the door to the box. "Fancy a trip through space and time itself?"