WTF?

Thanks to everyone who's reading this! You cause me great joy. I have a terrible work ethic, so my updates are usually pretty sporadic. And now I'm only doing this to pass the time while the Dr Who episode buffers, while I procrastinate writing an essay. Anyways, here's the next chapter.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Except for Spud. This fact will make you jealous very soon.

Apologies in advance, I know nothing about hospital/morgue procedure, so I'm just making up the second part.

"Oh," Martha said again. She rather felt as though her eyes were going to pop out of their sockets, or that her brain might explode just a little bit. It wasn't just the shock which made her feel this way. She instinctively knew that something about Spud's appearance was off. It must be a perception filter, she decided, to make that itching sensation in her brain.

"It wasn't my fault," Spud said, ashamed. "I set the perception filter to Earth frequency, and it chose its number one convict to model my image. That's why I've been hiding down here. I can't let anyone see me like this."

"Um, Spud," said the Doctor slowly, admirably serious, "What exact, erm, convict was this?"

"There were 'Wanted' signs everywhere, even on the satellites. He must be horrible, this Ralph Lauren."

Martha clapped her hand over her mouth to cover her smile. Spud was, there was no other word for it, hot. He was shirtless, and wearing a pair of dark jeans. But above the waist of the jeans were, without a doubt, the finest abs she'd ever seen. Perfectly tanned and chiseled pecs and shoulders, and face that could have been carved by angels, beneath thick, dark, curly hair.

"Yes, well, Spud. Ralph Lauren…isn't a convict." The Doctor kept walking forward. "You wouldn't get into trouble if you walked around upstairs. But, still, you must leave. As soon as possible. I have a friend with a teleport device, we can get you anywhere you want."

"Why can't we just take him in the TARDIS?" asked Martha in the Doctor's ear.

"The Potay and the Time Lords didn't exactly part on the best of terms. It's best if he doesn't know who I am. We'll have to find another way."

"What other way?"

"Well, if Jack still has his lovely bracelet…"

"Doctor, Jack's in the hospital's morgue right now, how're we gonna get to him?"

"Right, didn't think about that. Spud, can I call you Spud? I suppose I have been already, haven't I? Lovely, well in that case, Spud. Should I really be calling you by your nickname I mean we hardly know each other, and the Potay are really very particular about their names, aren't they? Sarkam Pendle Ulysses Daboosh, isn't it? But that's so very laborious to say. Spud it is then, glad you agree. Come on, Spud." The Doctor was grinning now. He pointed his screwdriver at the Potay and ran it all up and down his body. "I've neutralized your signal for about an hour. It's a beautiful day on a beautiful planet in a beautiful city. We've got some time to kill while Jack escapes from the morgue, why don't we send you off in style. London, 2010! Allons-y!" He led the way out of the maintenance room. Martha started to follow him, but realized that Spud had not moved.

"Hey," she said gently. "What's wrong?"

Spud sniffed. Even with puffy, tear-filled eyes, he was still smoking hot. "I've been alone for half a millennium. I don't think I can handle a city full of people."

"Well, there's no way to know until you've tried." Martha took his hand in hers. "Come on. I'll be right here. Let's go."

oOo

Marcy Baron was alone in the morgue when the body came in, in the customary bag on a gurney. She picked up her clipboard and walked over to meet the EMTs who had brought him in.

"Who we got?" she asked, pen at the ready.

"Mr. Pata says his name was Jack. No last name. No ID."

Marcy made a note. "Cause of death?"

"Poisoned potato."

She raised her eyebrows. "Bet the potato festival guys are over the moon about that. Alright, leave him there. See you fellas later." The EMTs left the gurney and retreated out of the morgue. Marcy unzipped the bag, and gave a low whistle. The face was handsome. Very handsome. She wondered if he'd been a model. Not that it mattered. Just another dead body for the shelves. He was still wearing his clothes. She unzipped the bag further. They fit him well, showing off his well muscled torso and arms. He had some sort of bracelet on his right wrist, sort of like the anklets criminals wore when they were out of prison. Her eyes lingered back to his very nice chest. It took her several moments to realize that it was moving slowly up and down.

Marcy grabbed her stethoscope from her desk and held it over the man's heart. Thump thump…thump thump…thump thump. The guy was alive. His eyes snapped open and he sat up, gasping. They gurney wobbled, and Marcy screamed and fell backwards. The man looked down at her.

"Sorry about that," he said, fully unzipping the bag and swinging his legs off the side of the gurney. He stood up and held out a hand, which Marcy tentatively accepted.

"You're…you're alive."

The man looked down at himself. "Yeah, that's the most common definition. Listen," he leaned in conspiratorially. "I'd be really appreciative if you would just…fill out that report normally. No one'll give you trouble with it, but I mean…" he laughed, "we can't just have supremely attractive men waking from the dead and walking out of the morgue. Let's just keep this on the down low, between you and me, understand?"

Marcy nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

The man winked at her. "You're a gem." He breezed past her and out the door.

Thanks for reading! All reviews appreciated.