Mark shook himself out of his stupor. Right. Time to start checking boxes.
"Find out the where and the when first. Then you can begin to work out the how…." He almost felt comforted by the sound of his own voice, the one familiar thing in this alien world that could help him untangle his muddled thoughts amidst the cacophony of the city.
He switched his sights to and fro. Emma had to be around here...somewhere. But there was no sign of the boundlessly energetic engineer. Just a heaving stream of pedestrians minding their own business and carving their ways through the thoroughfares.
Mark shook himself out of his stupor. Right. Time to start checking boxes.
"Find out the where and the when first. Then you can begin to work out the how…." He almost felt comforted by the sound of his own voice, the one familiar thing in this alien world that could help him untangle his muddled thoughts amidst the cacophony of the city.
He switched his sights to and fro. Emma had to be around here...somewhere. But there was no sign of the boundlessly energetic engineer. Just a heaving stream of pedestrians minding their own business and carving their ways through dizzying thoroughfares.
Mark didn't very much like the idea of raising his voice to call out for her here. His voice wouldn't carry very far in this maelstrom of movement, and there was no telling what would happen to him if he attracted the wrong kind of attention.
He took a steadying, deep breath and moved out of the deep shadows. Stepping down the concrete steps of the empty factory, Mark joined the throng and walked the streets with a singular focus. Maybe Emma was wandering these streets, too. She was bound to be here.
He swiftly silenced the doubts that were already creeping into his mind.
Mark nimbly made his way through the crowds, not unlike what he and Emma had done only moments before when they had escaped the clutches of the enraged carnival barker. Only this time, he was fleeing with a different sense of urgency.
Despite his hurry and worries, he drank in the sights with a mixture of awe and trepidation. There were just so many things.
Skyscrapers towered overhead, and lines of roaring, zipping, gliding vehicles arced their ways overhead, creating lines of traffic like marching ants scuttling across the night and neon-lit skyline. Figures from every kind of life teemed from the shopfronts, offices, stations, and other prime real estate that lined the dimly glowing streets below. The air was thick with a cloying damp chill, ceaseless chatter, and engine smoke. It took all of Mark's fortitude not to lose himself to the endless noise.
"If I can't find any people- humans." He rolled his eyes at himself. "Aliens are people, too, Mark. I'll have to be more specific from here on out." It seemed that voicing his thoughts when he needed to think was probably more than just a comfort at this point. It was a reflex. "If I can't find any humans or at least someone I can communicate with, I've got to find a rooftop. See if all the stars are where they're supposed to be."
Emma had once given him the basics of navigating by the night sky. If he could recognize the constellations, then he could determine a time, a place, and a general sense of direction.
He glanced up at the empty blackness and towering buildings above his head and thought better of it. "Or at least somewhere with less light pollution. There's got to be some kind of visitor's station somewhere around here. This place is huge."
He wove his way between two slow walkers. Or crawlers. The pair blocking his path directly ahead scuttled on tens of tiny legs. But each creature had a back that arched up into a torso with a large chest, two short arms, a thick neck, and a head that reminded Mark of a schnauzer with longer whiskers. They were both wrapped in light garments of multicolored cloth and-
were sharing a shawl between themselves.
He smiled. Couples and lovely gestures, even all the way out here. He shoved the thought aside and gingerly passed the lovers.
Then, he realized that he had no idea where he was really going.
All Mark knew was that he had to keep walking if he was going to find anyone or anything that could help him. He vaguely recalled hearing that sharks had to be in a state of constant motion in order to survive.
"Yeah. I get it." He muttered under his breath.
He felt his heart hammer faster in his chest, and he took a deep breath, stubbornly refusing to give in to panic again and keeping his mind fixed on the task ahead. There was work to be done, and although being stranded in an alien city was undoubtedly going straight to the top of his 'Crazy Stories' list, this wasn't the first time he'd found himself in a crisis.
"So," He piped up again to bring back his wits, "it's like something straight out of the science fiction you love so much." His sarcasm dragged along the pavement behind him. "Honestly, this stuff shouldn't even surprise you anymore. Like…whatever. You know? This might as well happen. Hey, at worst, I'm an extra on Star Wars's Coruscant. At best, I'm a major side character in a Star Trek episode that's finally got budget."
He looked down at his tee. "Though maybe I should ditch the red shirt."
He brushed past a bipedal bovine stuffed into a tight business suit, who was busy talking into a Bluetooth-like device fastened to a tufted ear. Mark smirked, slipping into the shadow of what appeared to be a media kiosk and pantomimed whipping out a communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise. I seem to have fallen through a rift in the space-time continuum and am now stranded on a densely populated planet. Although the locals do not appear hostile, stand by for further orders. Kirk out."
Despite himself, he chuckled and merged with the flow of foot traffic once again. There were worse places he could've ended up.
All of a sudden, the air was split with an ear-raking siren. Flashing green lights announced the presence of Something to the bustling streets.
Mark, along with the crowds around him, turned in unison to locate the source of the noise.
Though he was a stranger in a strange land, he felt the very familiar tension in the air that the clamor had caused, and he recognized the apprehension in the eyes of the people. He quickly put two and two together and realized what this offensively loud alert was. He knew a police car when he heard one.
Covering his ears as the din grew louder, his gaze was drawn upward to see what could only be described as a green squad speeder hovering toward the ground a few meters away with a tremendous 'whoosh' that briefly muffled the sirens.
Mark cast a wary look toward the crowd. They were busy stepping back to avoid being caught under the vehicle in its descent, but no one made any point to leave. Some were looking on with great interest, others had joined Mark in blocking out the terrible noise, but all in the vicinity were waiting in a palpable atmosphere of anticipation.
Then, mercifully, the siren was cut off.
Maybe it's a coincidence. Mark thought, Maybe the police are here for someone else and definitely not for the one human who's just spontaneously appeared in the middle of the street. Despite these mental assurances, his heart thudded louder in his chest.
Mark quickly turned and began to walk at a brisk pace away from the squad speeder. Its lights threw foreboding shadows across the crowded district. He seriously doubted that the locals spoke English, and he didn't feel up for a game of charades with the local law enforcement.
Then, to his terror, a (perhaps angry) voice shouted in his direction.
Mark tried playing things casually, paying no attention to the disembodied voice. But to his utter dismay, he suddenly found out that the voice did, in fact, belong to a body. A very strong one. With strong, heavy hands like iron that gripped his shoulders and whirled him around to face the looming figure of a blue-gray alien in a uniform.
The (man?) stood six-and-a-half feet tall. He was a burly, broad-chested humanoid with four muscular arms that would have put Dwayne Johnson to shame. His face resembled that of….
Well, a cave troll.
Hopefully a nice cave troll.
The alien was bald with a myriad of bumps and ridges along its skull and where there should have been a nose, there were two flaring slits.
To Mark's surprise (as he was now very close to the officer's face), the figure's breath smelled of candy mints and lilac. Oddly enough, the officer reminded Mark of a more human-ish Captain Gantu from Lilo and Stitch with an extra set of arms.
Mark took one look at the alien's piercing glare. "Kirk to Enterprise. Requesting urgent beam-up."
"Nyamuneka, nyereka impapuro zawe." The alien said in a deep, booming voice.
Mark slowly put up his hands. The officer eyed him suspiciously but didn't appear to see Mark as any threat. The tiny human shook his head, "I'm sorry. I don't understand?"
The officer ever so slightly cocked his head to one side and gestured to a booklet on his belt, articulating as if he were a monolingual desk jockey at the DMV, "Urimo kugenda muri zone yabujijwe."
Mark blinked and mirrored the same condescending tone, "English. Do you speak it?"
The officer huffed with another flare of his nostrils, seemingly understanding the tone all too well. He gestured to the booklet more emphatically with one hand and pointed to what looked like a roll of packing tape with another, "Uzafatwa. Niba udatanga indangamuntu yemewe."
I guess the charades are on. Mark began to gesticulate with every word, "Listen, I don't know where-"
He was interrupted by the sounds of more squad cars hovering toward the pavement. Three more officers stepped from their vehicles.
Whatever Mark was doing, it was starting to cause a scene.
Something about the worried expressions and slimy grins on some of the onlookers' faces told him that the situation was not swaying in his favor.
He groaned. "I've just picked a whole frickin' bouquet of whoopsie-daisies."
One of the other officers, a more gangly figure with a prominent forehead and an orange complexion, muttered something incomprehensible to Captain Cave Troll Gantu. The large officer rolled his eyes, then strong-armed Mark to march him over to one of the speeders with a grunt. "Ndakujyana kuri sitasiyo. Nyamuneka komeza utuze," He muttered, "ntabwo nkeneye undi mukerarugendo muburakari."
So they don't speak English. Mark's mind was working overtime with this development. Something tells me they're not too keen on visitors either.
Then the wind was suddenly knocked from his lungs as Gantu (Mark settled on the nickname) shoved him to the speeder's hood and pinned Mark's arms behind his back.
To his horror, he felt something being wrapped firmly around his wrists. The 'packing tape' the officer had gestured to moments before. Holy crap, are they arresting me? They're arresting me- what do I do?
He felt the surge of adrenaline rush anew through his veins, and his mind began to scramble again. Panic had finally set in. I'll be stuck in due process and turning gray before I have the chance to find out what's happened.
He took some steadying deep breaths and tried to focus on his surroundings, stubbornly grounding himself. I need to get out of this. Fast.
Craning his neck to observe the tired demeanors of the four officers, the crowds, and the vacant speeder a meter away, he grimaced as he made up his mind. "I'm sorry."
Gantu peered down at him with a confused expression, making a questioning noise.
Mark grabbed the hands holding onto his wrists and took a forceful sidestep.
For a split second, Gantu was jerked off balance.
Mark seized the moment to leap onto the officer's foot with all his weight.
Gantu rocketed back in a roar of pain, releasing his grip on Mark. "Wowe mwana w'igituba!"
Mark bolted for the speeder, "Language!"
"Dufite undi wiruka!"
Mark felt something like a boot collide with the back of his knee, and he nearly buckled to the pavement like a cut-down marionette.
Another officer's hand grabbed a fistful of his shirt.
Mark dropped deadweight to the ground, taking the stranger with him. Quick as a flash, Mark rolled out of reach and sprang back to his feet.
But the third officer, resembling a humanoid cat, brandished a baton-like weapon in front of Mark.
The officer thrust the object directly at Mark's chest, but not fast enough to make contact as the human swiveled out of the way.
Mark collided with a stone wall.
No. Wait.
He glanced up. "Gantu-"
The burly alien towered over him with a murderous scowl and quickly wrapped all four of his arms around Mark in a constricting bear hug.
Then, Mark lost purchase with the ground. Held tightly to the officer's chest, his body hovered a couple of feet above the street.
Mark struggled and kicked, but to no avail. Trying to free his arms felt like trying to pry apart mountains. "Please!" His frustration and fear finally peaked. "Someone help me!"
But his pleas were only met with sore looks from the battered officers and shocked expressions from the crowd.
Gantu began to walk him back toward the speeder like a parent hauling a petulant, squirming toddler to bed.
Gotta find Emma.
Steeling himself once more, Mark swiftly leaned his body forward, tucked in his knees, and delivered a tremendous donkey kick to the giant's torso.
The officer doubled over, his vice-like grip around Mark loosening as he gasped for air. Mark slipped through Gantu's hold to make a beeline out of the ring.
But he was surrounded.
All four police officers had him cornered in the center of the street.
Well, if this is my Butch-and-Sundance moment, at least I went out swingin'. Then he thought about it with a frown. "Wait-"
Suddenly, the squad speeders' sirens went off all at once. At the kind of amplified volume that sets your teeth rattling in your skull.
Everyone's appendages shot to their ears, or wherever they received sound, and doubled over from the sudden outburst.
The blaring noise took Mark's breath away and sent such a shock up his spine that it felt like his soul had been shot into the stratosphere.
Amidst the chaos, a hand grabbed his shoulder and pushed him forward into a run. He dimly heard a voice shouting something at him from behind, but he couldn't tell if it belonged to an officer or a bystander. The horrible din must have temporarily damaged Mark's hearing because everything sounded like it was underwater. But the intonations of this voice didn't sound angry or scared. That much was certain.
For all the confusion and clamor, all Mark could do was run as the voice seemed to be urging him on. Taking flight, he didn't even notice his bonds suddenly release and fall to the ground behind him. He did, however, register the muted tones of racing strides hot on his heels, evidence of the unseen stranger's presence. Or one of the officers.
But Mark didn't dare look back. Not until he knew he was in the clear.
He dove into the masses and wove his way through the streets until his lungs burned icily with the exertion. After what felt like an eternity of running blindly down the busy avenues, his racing grew worryingly sluggish, and each breath became more and more laborious to draw into his ever-tightening chest. Adrenaline could only power his flight so far.
His legs gave a terrible warning wobble, his whole frame nearly crumpling to the pavement in one terrifying moment. His body's message rang clear: 'Stop the running, or I'll stop it for you.'
He hastily ducked into the nearest empty alley he could find. In the deep shadows of towering buildings and grimy dumpsters, Mark finally collapsed against a cool concrete wall and slouched to the hard ground. His sides heaved for air, and his head hung low as he struggled for breath.
Far from the chaos, his ears weren't ringing so much anymore. Through his own rasps, Mark could now hear the panting breaths of the stranger, who was standing close by. If he hadn't felt like his body had just been wrung out like a wet rag and put through the wood chipper, Mark would have told the man off for not sounding like he was dying, too. It was almost frightening how the figure seemed to have kept pace the whole time without so much as a rasp.
And why would anyone help a total stranger escape custody only to chase him down several city blocks?
"Phew! Haven't done something like that in a while."
Mark's breath hitched. He knew that voice.
It kept going, "Seems I'm always dragging people away from a fight, but mind you, not usually in the way of setting off a whole squad of police cars. Sorry about that, by the way. Seemed like a good idea at the time. You're not exactly from around here, are you?"
Mark finally summoned the courage to look up.
Sure enough, there he was. The man stood catching his breath with his hands on his hips, a friendly grin on his face, and a wild glint in his eye - tweed, bow tie, floppy quiff - the whole gangly package.
Mark's eyebrows scrunched together as his mind worked feverishly through the last hour. The freakish mirror maze, stranded in an alien city, a commotion, and a desperate cry for help. He sighed, finally working it out. "Of course." Parallel universe.
It had to be.
The Doctor, unaware of this sudden realization, batted away the remark, "Oh that's alright, though. Nothing wrong with being lost so long as you can make a pleasant day of it. I'm the Doctor, by the way. Here to help." He offered a hand.
Mark blinked, uncertainly taking the hand and letting himself be hoisted back onto his feet. "Mark." Although his limbs were filled with lead, he miraculously managed to root himself to the street without doubling over. "Mark Stanton."
Why not? He figured, Why wouldn't the Doctor be here, too?
His mind was abuzz with questions, but Mark didn't have it in himself to spend the next few hours asking each and every one of them in turn. He'd catch his breath and play along. It beats being arrested.
The Doctor pumped his hand enthusiastically, "Pleasure to meet you, Mark Stanton." Then his eyes narrowed, quickly scanning him up and down, "Tell me, do you make a habit of picking fights with local authorities?"
"Only on bank holidays and Thursday afternoons."
The Doctor blinked, momentarily taken aback by this response before he pointed at him with a light of recognition behind his eyes, "Ah, sarcasm! Ha, got it that time. Classic human humor."
With a quirked eyebrow, Mark put his hands on his hips, "And do you make a habit of aiding and abetting wanted criminals?"
"Only the good kinds."
"Are there really any good kinds?"
"You tell me, Mark."
Mark glanced down with a chuckle before looking back into the man's inquisitive expression, "If I've broken any laws within the last hour I've been here, it's beyond me. As far as I know, the only crime I'm guilty of is not knowing what the hell's been going on."
The man mused, "Blimey, if that were a crime, I'd never leave prison. Then again," He absentmindedly added with his gaze now skipping from rooftop to rooftop, "I'd probably keep leaving prison. Always had a knack for that. I'd find a way to get out and then pop right back in minutes later when something else had me puzzling." Then he seemed to remember the stranger's presence and brought his full attention back to the issue at hand. "An hour, you said? Didn't take you very long to get into trouble, then."
"You're one to talk." Mark wanted to slap the careless words right back into his mouth. But if the man had picked up on this slippage, he showed no sign of it.
"Oh please," The Doctor huffed. "I don't get into trouble. I'mjust…really good at finding it."
Mark nodded with a derisive grin, "Whatever makes you feel better. How'd you find me?"
The Doctor pounced on the question. "By finding trouble, what'd you think?" The Time Lord prodded him in the chest, "You seem to have your hands full with quite a lot of it. Though I suppose I can give you some kudos for keeping your head in a crisis. There aren't many who can go through the rift and come out the other side knowing their odds from their ends."
Mark was taken aback. "Wait, you saw me?"
He leaned against the wall and casually shoved his hands into his pockets, "Spent quite a while finding your way around the city before attempting negotiations with a Gisirikare guard." The Doctor spoke as if acknowledging the weather, "Well, I say 'attempting negotiations' – wasn't exactly negotiating, now was it? More like watching one of those long-distance technical support calls in real time. Gotta say, there aren't too many who'd be daft enough to have a tête-à-tête with one of them."
Mark opened his arms wide in a great shrug, "Oh, like I'm supposed to know any better."
"Ah-ha!" A hand shot out of the Doctor's pocket to snap a finger at Mark like a curator spotting the telltale flaw in a well-crafted fake. "But that's the point."
Mark shook his head, suddenly feeling wrongfooted, "I'm sorry?"
The Doctor's gaze hardened.
Mark had almost started to enjoy the banter, but now that joy had vanished instantly. A terrible knot twisted in his gut. He suddenly remembered how precarious his situation was and the kind of man he was talking to.
"You're different." The Doctor pushed off the wall and slowly walked toward Mark, his voice now empty of its previous cordial tone and laced with a weight that defied his youthful features, "Most people – after a tumble through space-time, a tussle with alien authorities, and a conversation with a handsome, cryptic stranger – tend to ask a lot more questions. But you seem rather confident. Dare I say, on the same wavelength, you and I."
Mark matched his tone, "Maybe I'm just prioritizing. Filing all this away under 'Freak Out About Later' and all that."
"You're lost, Mark." The Doctor said. "And very far from home. But you're not in a panic, running all over the place, trousers on your head, shouting about all the strange aliens because you seem to know something."
"Who says I know anything?" Mark crossed his arms, but that only served to bring his attention to his pounding heart.
The Doctor began to pace around the man as he spoke, taking Mark as his terrified hostage aboard a train of thought, "You didn't appear surprised when you just happened upon the one person within twenty-six star systems who can speak English. You didn't seem confused in my casually distinguishing you as human-"
Mark opened his mouth to interject, but the Doctor barreled right on, "You didn't even bat an eyelash when I mentioned you falling through the rift. Plus, you're speaking to me as if you already have a pretty good idea of who you're dealing with."
He stopped in front of Mark and pondered aloud to the middle distance, "Which isn't necessarily a bad thing; I'm all over the place, me. Past, present, future- can't help but leave an impression on some people from time to time. But you're acting like you mean to cover it up."
The Doctor's piercing gaze locked onto the frightened man, "And I don't like it when people try to keep things from me. I always manage to find out in the end. So why not make this easier for the both of us?" His voice dropped like a stone, "I think there's quite a lot you're supposed to know, Mark Stanton."
For all the confidence he had felt before, Mark's insides had completely melted. Now, staring into the Doctor's glare, he finally understood why characters emphasized the intensity of those eyes so often and the lifetimes they held. It was like looking into an abyss.
Mark swallowed nervously, the silence between them beginning to thicken uncomfortably. Dropping his gaze, he stepped back, looking anywhere but at the man in front of him.
The Doctor watched him closely.
A brief moment passed before Mark dared to draw his eyes back to the Doctor's.
Mark swallowed again. "You're right."
He took the Doctor's silence as an invitation to continue. "I am very far from home. For the first time in my life, I've fallen down a rabbit hole with nothing to my name but the clothes on my back and the words on my lips."
What am I saying? Despite his best efforts, the words continued to tumble out as he ran a shaky hand through his hair, "This far away from everything I've ever deemed familiar, I know that my words are the only things of value I possess. To use them dishonestly or to provoke suspicion through them would be a careless waste of a cry for help."
The Doctor's gaze softened at this as Mark went on, "I understand how this looks, and I don't mean to come off as untrustworthy. I'm just…really desperate for things to feel normal for five minutes."
A brief silence fell over the alley as Mark's words hung in the air. He sighed and tentatively drew forward. "I want to help you, help me. I need to get home. But I can be patient enough to answer all of your questions if it means that we can start off on the right foot and work together to fix whatever this is."
Feeling his confidence finally returning, he locked eyes with the man and held up a finger, "But on the one condition that you answer this single question."
The Doctor's brows scrunched together, curious. "And what would that be?"
Mark smirked. "Do you know any good cafés around here?"