((OOC: Combo Post with Phoebe-
@corneredbliss & Sarah-
@JBRam2002))
The morning began as normal. Sarah awoke much earlier than Phoebe, taking care not to disturb her sleeping wife as she arose from the bed. Her clothing was retrieved and donned in as near to silence as she could achieve, and Sarah made the short journey to the kitchen to begin the tea kettle. Her skills with tea were second to none, and although it was likely not the reason the two had gotten married, it was definitely a perk.
As Sarah set the tea to brew, she quickly hopped on her computer to learn the news of the day and to catch up on the daily gossip on her favorite social media site. As she surfed through the mundanities of the morning, something felt off. Stories she had expected to see were missing, and she could have sworn there was an unread notification from last night. A little bit of searching revealed what she did not want to acknowledge at first.
“You.... bitch...”
Phoebe locked her accounts. There was no other possible explanation. Sarah quickly tried to log in again with her username on the site.
Username/Password incorrect. Instagram? Same thing. Youtube? Ditto. Twitter? Fail whale.
“You... you little piece of shit. I can’t believe it.”
The tea kettle began to whistle and Sarah marched over to the stove to remove the kettle. She poured herself a cup and returned to the computer to resume her searching, steaming nearly as much as her tea was.
Back in the bedroom, a pillow was in danger of being drooled on by the bitch in question.
Be-beep! Be-beep! Be-beep! Be-beep! A sleepy hand wandered out from underneath the covers to pat around the night table beside the bed until it finally found the off button of the alarm. Phoebe sighed softly, reaching up and over so that the blanket was no longer covering her head but was instead trapped between her arm and her body. With her eyes still closed, she wiped the side of her mouth, felt the lingering saliva there, and grimaced slightly. Zombie-like, the woman pushed herself up into a sitting position, swinging her legs up and over the edge of the bed before rising from its comfort. Phoebs wasn’t really a morning person, apparent by the way she nearly walked into the doorframe of the bathroom as she entered it.
A quick splash of water on her face to rid it of whatever nasty crusts had accumulated overnight and she was back out into the world with her phone in hand, padding slowly over into the kitchen where she knew Sarah would be waiting for her with a cup of tea. Still half-awake, she found the figure of her wife at her computer and moved to press a groggy but affectionate kiss on the top of her head. “Morning...”
However the female reacted went unnoticed by Phoebs as she turned and let her sluggish eyes search for where Sarah had put her cup of tea… And finding none set out for her.
Huh. Only slightly phased by the strange detail in her drowsy state, she lifted a hand to scratch the back of her neck and turned again to her wife. She croaked out, “Did you pour me a cup, baby?”
Sarah said nothing, an odd reaction for her that normally would give pause to anyone who knew her. With her jaw set, Sarah stood up abruptly from the computer chair and walked over to the tea kettle. She filled her own teacup back to full, then promptly dumped the remaining tea down the sink drain, her gaze pointed at Phoebe and an eyebrow arched high. She then took her cup back to her computer chair and sat back down. Sarah remained staring at Phoebe as she crossed one leg over her other thigh and took a sip from her cup. “Is there something you have forgotten to tell me?” she finally asked, her less-than-impressed visage staring back at Phoebe.
Obviously, this sort of behavior was abnormal for Sarah. The mornings usually involved Sarah babying her wife, setting out her morning tea and breakfast without being prompted. It often involved a soothing backrub or Sarah’s tiptoeing around, depending on whether Phoebe had much to drink the night before. Today, Sarah showed none of this normal concern for Phoebe’s well-being. In fact, even in Phoebe’s morning stupor, she could likely see Sarah’s ire burning strongly... directly at Phoebe.
“Uh…” Genuinely bewildered, Phoebe’s gaze trailed from the now empty tea kettle next to the sink to her quite obviously upset wife. Bulldozers were more subtle than she was. The usual warmth and affection between them were so clearly absent, and if she were being honest with herself, there was a hint of growing annoyance at the situation. It was one thing to be upset with her for actually having done something, and another to be upset with her for absolutely no reason - at least, none that Phoebe could recall. And now she was acting up with this weird attitude when she knew very well that Phoebs was only half-awake at the moment? This was just not how their mornings were supposed to go, and she wasn’t going to let Sarah throw a tantrum without properly explaining why.
“What are you talking about, Sarah?” First names. Her wife knew it was serious now, though she forced her tone to remain even so as not to freak her out even more. “Did I forget to kiss you goodnight, or something?” Of course, that wouldn’t be it. But perhaps it would calm her down enough to let her in on what the hell she had supposedly done to earn this spiteful treatment.
“Playing dumb, I see.” Sarah sighed and shook her head. Phoebe was normally above this, but Sarah never quite knew entirely what was going on in that woman’s mind. She hoped it was similar to what scenes played in her own, but evidently, someone who would stoop as low as this had some other motivations. “Fine. I suppose I shall tell you.”
A couple of clicks with her mouse, and her screen was showing the empty page that should have held all of Sarah’s statuses, pictures, and other social media. Instead, the page was completely empty, replaced with a standard message of an incorrect username and password. “I cannot believe you would lock me out. All I said was that I disliked your cheesecake. I didn’t think that would cause a reaction like this.” Sarah stood from her chair, letting Phoebe sit if she wanted and stepped away from the computer desk. “Go ahead and sugarcoat it as much as you want, Phoebs. I checked every site. You locked me on every... single... one. That’s not funny.”
“What?” Phoebe half-grumbled as she sank into the chair Sarah had just vacated to see for herself. Of course, she’d done no such thing, so what was she going on about? “Babe, I didn’t lock you out. On anything.” She tried logging into Sarah’s accounts herself; perhaps she was making constant typos? No, that wasn’t it. Strange. “Why would I-?”
Oh, no. Phoebe had just tried logging into her own accounts, entering and re-entering the letters she knew were correct, and the same screen appeared for her.
Username/Password incorrect. Then it began falling into place, the realization sinking into her like ice water trickling over her skin, and it was a matter of moments before she could bring herself to speak the words into existence. “I’m locked out of my accounts, too…”
Seeing the look on Phoebe’s face and hearing those words made Sarah realize that she may have overreacted or misjudged her wife. She set the teacup down on the edge of the computer as if in apology as she leaned over Phoebe to watch her work. “Wait... this isn’t about that guy from the other night, is it?” Two and two were slowly starting to add up in her mind as her thoughts turned towards the flow of data on the screen.
Phoebe, reeling from thoughts of how she might have gotten caught and the serious danger she had just plunged them both into, kept trying to log into something, anything. Still incorrect. For a few moments, she tried applying her skills in order to retrieve the proper log-in credentials, but she found walls at every turn. “Shit…” Every single trace of her social presence on the internet, now absolutely out of her control. She didn’t answer the question, already knowing they both were being bombarded with the same anxieties. They didn’t need verbal confirmation; all the confirmation needed was right there on the screen.
Leaning back in a momentary show of defeat, Phoebs covered her face with her hands and tilted her head so that it was touching Sarah’s shoulder for comfort and acknowledgement of the silent apology. She needed to be the one to apologize now. “Shit,” she repeated, voice muffled against the skin of her palms.
The silence only lasted a few seconds as Sarah pulled Phoebe close. “We need to get out of here,” she murmured finally, breaking the quiet between them. “Grab your go bag and meet me in the car. If it’s what I think, we’re in some deep shit.’
A quick squeeze and Sarah left her wife’s side, nearly running back towards their bedroom. She had never packed an emergency bag of her own, but she kept a duffel handy for long-term missions or emergencies. And if this were not an emergency, she had no idea what the hell would count as one. Armfuls of clothes flew into the bag, little care taken in figuring out matching outfits or ensuring that she had enough of any particular article of clothing. Once she figured she had enough haphazard shirts, skirts, and underwear, she ran to the bathroom, grabbing her toiletries and throwing them into a plastic bag. In all, this only took about five minutes before she had everything packed... well, thrown together at least.
It had only been a few minutes since Sarah left the kitchen, but the minutes felt like hours and Phoebe remained still in the chair with a terrible pit in her stomach. How had this happened? She was careful to cover her tracks, careful to keep herself and her wife protected; was it just not good enough? Was she not good enough?
A buzzing from the phone she’d left on the counter beside her jolted her from her reverie. As if in a daze, Phoebs reached out and opened the message, a string of letters followed by an attachment that solidified her fears. This was it. It didn't even cross her mind that this was unusual, that someone somewhere was giving her a head start on the timer. She was just grateful at the coordinates listed at the end of the text. The emotion propelled her from the chair and into the hallway, grabbing her already-packed go bag from the top shelf of the closet just as she heard the front door open.
Sarah collected her keys and the bag was thrown into the back of their car. There was no question who would be driving as Sarah took the driver’s seat, ignoring the buzzing from her phone. Once Phoebe was ready, Sarah took a deep breath. “I love you baby,” she said as they pulled out of the driveway. “Where are we heading?”
“I love you, too,” Pheobe replied as she shut the door behind her. She was grateful that Sarah wasn't blaming her for the trouble, and grabbed her hand to give it a quick squeeze before shoving her phone into the woman’s hand. “There, we’re heading for those coordinates. Apparently there's a safe house.” It wasn't the most prudent to be following a random message’s instructions, but she figured it couldn't be a trap if they were being warned. Someone was on their side, and that was the only lifeline they had right now. Sarah punched in the coordinates, and when Phoebe took back her phone, she replied to the message with a simple,
Thank you.And they were off.
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