a drabble
Um, hi. I'm going through a bit of writer's block/a suddenly hectic schedule. But, um, here's a drabble. Sort of. I'm going to go back to pounding my head on the desk now.
He was only gone for two weeks.
They didn’t torture him, didn’t beat him bloody.
None of his ribs were broken, his skull wasn’t fractured. His face was still handsome like when he left, all he really needed was a shave and a bath.
They’d fed him, given him food and water. (maybe not quite enough. maybe he’d lost a few pounds.)
He’d greeted them with token annoyance when they’d come for him, told them a few more hours and he would have gotten out on his own. (that was Sheppard for you. never could just be grateful.)
Rodney always woke up then.
He was always alone.
He was only gone for two weeks.
They didn’t torture him, didn’t beat him bloody.
None of his ribs were broken, his skull wasn’t fractured. His face was still handsome like when he left, all he really needed was a shave and a bath.
They’d fed him, given him food and water. (maybe not quite enough. maybe he’d lost a few pounds.)
He’d greeted them with token annoyance when they’d come for him, told them a few more hours and he would have gotten out on his own. (that was Sheppard for you. never could just be grateful.)
Rodney always woke up then.
He was always alone.