Hi guys. This little drabble is set in an AU universe, and inspired by a graphic on Tumblr (which showed Freema Agyeman and Matt Smith in a similar office setting - Freema from Law and Order: UK, and Matt from Party Animals). Basically, sometimes my brain goes to odd little places.
Martha can feel his eyes on her again. He seems to do that often - she'll glance up, towards the door or the clock, and he will be looking at her. Usually, it's just awkward. They'll share a half smile, or he'll nod in recognition, and they go back to their work like nothing even happened. And it happens more often than is normal, really, for two coworkers who share an office with a handful of other people. It's a tiny office, only big enough for the six of them, but the separated arrangement of the room is practically designed for avoiding the gazes of other people; she supposes it's designed purely for productivity. Yet somehow, they always manage catch each other's eye.
He's an odd looking guy, Martha thinks, smiling and nodding absently as she doodles on her jotter, only half listening to the person on the other end of the phone. Hair much more floppy than normal and longer than is strictly necessary, a rather strange face, and yet she's attracted to him in a way she can't explain. It's almost as if she knows him, although she'd never met him before he started this job, only two days ago. And the strangest part was, the way he looked at her - it was like he knew her. She tried, even when catching his gaze, to avoid looking in his eyes. She felt like she could get lost in them, in their intense depth and age; like that would begin again something once lost and forgotten which should never be revisited. But that would be stupid, she concludes. She's never met the man before. How could she know him, and how could he know her?
She realises then that there was silence on the other end of the phone, that she is required to give an answer. She does, but has no idea what she was answering to, and she glances down at her paper to see what she has drawn. Suddenly, she stops, apologising to the person on the phone and hanging up without a second thought. There was that feeling again now, that he was watching her (she didn't even know his name), but she pushes it aside, still staring at her drawing. To anyone but her, it would look like a collection of strange lines, a symbol with no meaning, but Martha knew what it meant. Why she had drawn it, she didn't know. Hastily, she tears the page in question off her jotter, scrunching it up and throwing the small pieces into the rubbish bin next to her desk. Scraps float down like snow, drifting out of the wire mesh of the bin and landing on the floor, but she barely notices. She put her head in her hands, but that feeling was still there; he is still watching her. Resolutely, she stands, scribbles a note on the new page of her pad, reaches for her bag, and strides out of the office without a second glance.
As the door slowly closed after her, he turns from watching her retreating figure to the note on her desk. Standing, he straightens his bowtie, pushes his hair out of his face, and casually walks past her desk. None of the other people working in the office are watching, so he pauses, reading the note: 'Feeling terrible. Left at 12.05pm to go home and get better. Be back in tomorrow. -Martha.'