FIC: Changes Wrought 3/?
Changes Wrought 3/?
By: bargara_b
Fandom: Devil Wears Prada (film)
Pairing: Miranda/Andrea
Rating: PG-13 to R
Disclaimer: Honestly? Not mine.
A/N: I’ve never written one of these. I am not a writer nor can I claim any expertise in fashion, journalism, medicine, psychiatry, rescue operations, or teenaged girls (though I do have one of those, they remain a mystery).
I owe thanks to Radak for the prompt.
This story begins about one year after Paris.
Changes Wrought
Chapter Three
“Over here!”
Andy still gripped Caroline’s hand tightly.
“Oh, please, over here, over here.” A rescue worker moved toward them and knelt next to Caroline. “They’re here Caroline, they’re here baby. We’re okay now, we’re okay.” Andy brushed the hair back from Caroline’s forehead. “Please hurry, please help her. She’s been awake this whole time but just closed her eyes when you got here. They’re blue, her eyes are blue. You’ve got to hurry.”
Suddenly people were flanking Andy and Caroline. Someone then knelt next to Andy and was trying to pull Andy’s hand away from Caroline’s. But that would mean Andy would have to let go. She wasn’t so sure she wanted to do that.
“No, I need to stay with her. She needs me to stay with her. I promised her, I promised her.” Andy started speaking faster, more urgently, as she felt her hand separate from Caroline’s. People were talking but she really couldn’t pick up what they were saying. Her heart started to beat faster; she could feel it in her throat. Her breathing became shallow. “No, no, I can’t let go. You don’t understand I can’t leave her, I can’t. Her mom’s not here yet. I promised I would stay until her mom got here.” Andy kept trying to reach for Caroline but now people were in the way. Didn’t they understand?
“Hey, it’s okay," a voice said. "It’s okay we’ve got her now … we’ve got her. Let’s just take a look at you.” Someone was holding her arm and a light flickered in her eyes. “What’s your name?” The voice was kind of far away and Andy felt something poke her arm.
Andy was annoyed. “My name is Andy,” she snapped.
She tried to shrug off the hand on her arm. “Look, you’ve got to listen to me. Her name is Caroline she needs your help right now.” Andy felt like no one could hear her. She started to shake her head and tried to roll back toward Caroline but someone pulled her back. Her breathing got faster and the air around her started to buzz.
“No, no.” Andy struggled to see Caroline. “She’s having problems breathing and she has a cut … there’s a cut on her head … somewhere. And her leg … her leg is hurt. You don’t understand … her mom’s not here yet.”
“We’ve got her Andy. Caroline’s okay, they’re gonna take her to her mom now.”
The buzzing in Andy’s ears got louder.
“Her eyes are blue,” she said.
+++++++++++++++++++++++
If Nigel had taken the time to think about it he would have thought that he had never seen Miranda so compliant. They sat in the back of a sedan, a sedan with vinyl seats which smelled remarkably like petroleum, if that was possible. Miranda hadn’t even blinked when they’d slid into the car. She had, however, let go of Nigel’s hand. Other than identifying herself, correcting the earnest young woman earlier, Miranda hadn’t spoken; she just did as she was instructed.
Miranda’s silence was broken by the ringing of her cell phone. She opened her bag, picked out her phone and opened it.
“Yes? … No, not yet … I’ll call as soon as I know.” Miranda’s tone was short though not unkind.
“I know … I know. " Miranda listened for a moment. "That, I don’t know, I doubt anyone does, yet … Of course, I’ll tell her … All right … I can send my car for you if you like … Very well then … I know, Chance, I know. Me too.” Miranda shut her phone. It was rare that Miranda referred to her ex-husband as anything other than her ‘ex-husband’ or ‘the girls’ father’. It was rumored that Miranda didn’t like his first name, that she found it too ‘frat boy’, but it was just that, a rumor.
“I don’t know if I can handle this, Nigel.”
Nigel turned to look at Miranda. He wasn’t sure he’d heard her right as she’d spoken so softly, almost to herself. She sat rigidly in her seat with her head turned slightly away, looking outside. One hand was clenched in a fist while the other opened and closed on the handle of her purse. Then Nigel did something he couldn’t recall ever doing in almost twenty years, he reached over and took Miranda’s hand in his and then almost regretted it immediately when Miranda resumed her death grip. He turned and looked back out his window.
“We’re here, Miranda.”
The car slowed and turned into the parking garage of the hospital.
+++++++++++++++++++
“Of course, I know about the HIPAA laws,” she said. “And, yes, I understand they’re not releasing any of the victims’ names yet. I know that.” Andy made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. “I happen to be one of the victims!” She hung up on the man with a resounding push of a button. She’d been on and off the phone for several hours; almost since they had moved her from the ER to her own room.
Doug had been Andy’s first call after the accident. As soon as Andy had been coherent enough, and the nurse had let her, she’d called him. He had rushed into her room not twenty minutes after Andy had hung up with him. His face had been very pale his hands and voice shaking. “God, Andy, oh my god,” he had said, taking her hand in his.
Andy had wanted to be released but the doctor had refused; she needed ‘further observation’ he’d said. She’d suffered a concussion and her leg was pretty much immobilized but it still didn’t stop Andy from wanting to go home. Doug had talked her down from the idea and helped her to see reason.
After her call to Doug she’d called her boss. Dixon was a decent guy and showed more concern about her condition than any excitement about getting a scoop. At Andy’s urging, he had sent Catie Carradeen over to talk with her about the story. When Andy had first met Catie, she’d suspected that Catie must have changed her name to fit with the wholesome morning television anchor image she put across. But she really was just a nice girl from Fargo, North Dakota, of all places, who sincerely wanted to be a journalist just like Andy did. They’d hit it off a few days after Andy had started at the Mirror.
After Catie had returned to the paper, Andy had called her parents. It was a shorter conversation than any of them had wanted but Andy had assured them that either she or Doug would call back in a few hours after she rested and when she might have a better idea of how long she needed to stay in the hospital and then what kind of recovery she was looking at for a knee injury. An injured knee in New York City was not an easy thing. Her parents had wanted to talk to Doug, too, if for nothing else than reassurance.
After the call to her parents, Andy had begun the frustrating task of trying to find where Caroline had been taken and if she was okay. This call, that she had just ended with a self-righteous press of a button, was her fifth in a line of calls that were forming a wall which was keeping Andy from finding Caroline.
“You’ll find her, Andy,” said Doug. “Just give it a day or so.”
“You don’t understand. I have to know she’s okay, Doug. I need to see her,” Andy said.
“And you will. Look, you need to get some rest.” Doug held out his hand for the phone which she handed back to him. “Andy, listen to me, you’ve been injured. You need to rest. Then they’ll let you out of here and you can go find your girl.”
“Caroline. Her name is Caroline,” Andy said.
“Okay, so you can go find Caroline.” Doug reached in to lightly caress her cheek; brushing an errant tear away. The right side of Andy’s face was bruising up quite nicely and her eye was swollen half-way shut.
“Get some rest Andy. I’ll be here when you wake up,” Doug said.
He then helped to fluff her pillow.
TBC