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Backwards in Time | Forwards in Time

7 Deadly Sins - Performer: Gluttony

Title: Performer
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: The Doctor/Martha Jones
Prompt: # 02 - Gluttony
Word Count: 730
Rating: G
Summary: She thinks I never notice her, but she couldn’t be more wrong. I notice everything. And she doesn’t even know. 10Martha.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Doctor Who. Thank RTD and the BBC.
Author's Notes: No 2 in my 7 Deadly Sins Series. Minor spoilers for ‘Family of Blood’.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Performer

It’s rather surprising, even to me, just how good an actor I am. After all, ‘acting’ was never exactly my forté. Nor was it a career generally advertised broadly at the Academy. Who wanted to act when we could strive to enter the Senate and take our place beside our associates at the heart of the Universe? Strive to join the forces of Ultimate ‘Good’ that were the observant Time Lords?

No, acting wasn’t really our ‘thing’, as it were.

And yet it’s the ‘actor’ within me that’s the one persona of myself which is practically faultless.

Because I do it so very well.

She thinks I never notice her. She said so herself; said it to ‘John Smith’, admittedly, but she still said it, all the same.

She couldn’t be more wrong.

In fact, I have a sneaking suspicion I actually notice her a lot more than I probably should.

Because I just can’t help but notice her.

The way she holds herself, so confident and up for anything, the way the light catches her auburn locks, bouncing around her like an aura as her head flicks contemplatively to one side, the way her lips quirk upwards when she’s thinking, or when she’s itching to laugh but is not exactly sure the situation warrants it, the way she tries her damndest to put everybody else’s needs and desires before her own, the way she watches the worlds flash by in a daze, craving each new adventure, each new planet to quench her thirst for knowledge and excitement…

No, I simply can’t help myself. One glance in her general direction, no matter where we are or what time we’re in or who’s around, and that’s all it takes. With just one look, I’m drowning. And before long, I have to admit to myself that I’m gorging. Plain and simple. I have to admit to myself that I simply can not turn away from her, whether I want to or not.

Meeting her gaze is the hardest part about it. Even if it’s only for a second, I find myself lost to their timeless, swirling depths, hazel eyes locked with chocolate as I stare into her very soul, drinking in everything about her and memorising it in abject desperation, terrified that as soon as I turn away, she’s going to vanish from existence.

She thinks I never notice her, but she couldn’t be more wrong.

I notice everything.

And she doesn’t even know.

That’s how good a performer I am. I can feast on her beauty, feast on her without her ever so much as suspecting that I’m doing such a thing.

She thinks I never notice her, and I can’t tell her how much it hurts that she thinks that, because then she’d know the truth – she’d know that I’m addicted. I can’t let her know that, can’t let her realise I’m captivated by her, or I’ll never be able to ‘kick the habit’, so to speak.

But the funny thing is, I’m not entirely sure I really want to kick the habit in the first place.

I like watching her. I like noticing every tiny detail - no matter how small or insignificant, because each and every one of those tiny little things makes her ‘Martha Jones’, makes her the young woman standing at my side through thick and thin – and I like the fact that she doesn’t realise I know more about her than she knows about herself.

Is that selfish of me? Is it selfish that I want to continue pretending I don’t see her just so I can go on feasting without her say-so?

Not that I care, of course.

And not that it really matters, either, because it’s not about to change any time soon. Not if I have anything to do with it, at least. Maybe one day she’ll finally understand. Maybe one day she’ll finally know the truth. Maybe one day she’ll finally know that I do notice her, even if it means confessing that I notice her way more than I probably should.

But until then, let’s hope that my ‘acting’ skills remain as up-to-scratch as they have been in the past. Because if they don’t … well, I think I’d be in big trouble. Not least of all because the performer within me would most definitely be out of a job.

OoOoOoOoOoO


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