Disclaimer: Story is not mine, I only adapted it to FreenBecky Fanfic because I love this piece and I love FB. I want to see them portray the characters in this story.
It brings me joy to know my readers are suffering from confusion. But sadly, every good thing must come to an end.
---
They don't talk about it.
Rebecca wakes up around noon on the living room floor groaning pitifully. It takes her so much effort to stand, to come to the bedroom where Freen had laid awake all night.
She can feel Rebecca staring at her but she doesn't look. She doesn't have the energy anymore.
SHE's so late for work. When she sees the time she flies into a panic, changing quickly and just barely splashing water on her face before racing out the door.
Rebecca goes to work and doesn't come back for three days.
Freen runs out of food on the second day. She never realized how little food they kept in the apartment, how Rebecca brought home the next day's meal each day. When she didn't come home, there was no next meal.
The deep panic sets in.
She tries to break the glass window in the living room. It's the largest, with the most space between the bars. If she were going to escape through a window it'd be this one.
She swings a frying pan, a rolling pin, even manages to lift a kitchen chair once and throw it. It cracks but doesn't shatter, and she realizes the space between the bars won't fit her head anyway.
She doesn't have the strength to swing again.
She tries the plaster walling. Cracks it open, scratches it out like a rat borrowing to escape a burning iron.
The first two inches are plaster but she quickly finds beneath it metal reinforcements. She digs by the door, in the kitchen, in the bathroom. The entire apartment is laced in metal.
She's in a metal cage masquerading as a home, and her keeper has abandoned her.
She doesn't have much strength after that. She eats the remaining crackers by the end of the day. She finds tea bags in the back of a cupboard and brews a pitcher. She sips it throughout the third day.
She wonders if she'll die here. If anyone knows to mourn her.
Rebecca comes stumbling in sometime after night fall, a big bag of groceries in hand and face pale in the green glow of the hallway's light.
The sight of her is nearly euphoric. Freen almost cries in relief.
Despite herself she pulls the other woman into a tight hug, drags her hands all over like she might be dreaming, and the woman accepts it for a moment before gasping and pulling away, clutching her side.
She coughs and Freen can hear a wetness in it she hadn't before. Rebecca limps to the kitchen. Freen takes a good look at her and sees the flinch in her walk, the way she clutches her side.
In the bright fluorescents she can see her lip is busted.
"What happened?" Freen asks in terror.
Rebecca slumps in a kitchen seat and pulls from her bag. Lays out some food. It's not much - a few fruits, a bag of bread, some cans of soup. Freen has a fruit piece stuffed into her mouth before she can think straight.
"I'm sorry," Rebecca says as an answer. "I got back as fast as I could. Here."
She hands her some bread, which she bites into ravenously. She forces herself back on her feet and moves to the stove, pulls down a pot. Pours the soup in.
YOU ARE READING
Madam President
RomanceSecret service agent Freen Sarocha has been the head of Presidential Candidate Rebecca Armstrong's Secret Service detail for months, now. She has been there since Rebecca was nominated, and now she has been assigned to protect her for the next four...
