FIC: Changes Wrought 4/?
Changes Wrought 4/?
By: bargara-b
Fandom: Devil Wears Prada (film)
Pairing: Miranda/Andrea
Rating: PG-13 to R
Disclaimer: Honestly? Not mine.
A/N: 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).
Thanks to Radak for the prompt.
Deepest apologies for the very long delay.
Endless gratitude to shesgottaread for the beta and keen observation.
This story begins about one year after Paris.
Previous bits here:
http://community.livejournal.com/dvlwears_prada/816588.html#cutid1
http://bargara-b.livejournal.com/917.html
http://bargara-b.livejournal.com/1395.html#cutid1
Changes Wrought
Chapter Four
Miranda had never known such fear. This was so far beyond anything she had ever experienced. The thought of losing her child-one of her babies-was as terrifying as it was incomprehensible. None of it seemed possible let alone real. Yet, here she sat and faced the stark reality that her daughter might not wake up and if she did what her future would hold.
Caroline had already been taken into surgery by the time Miranda and Nigel arrived at the hospital; they’d been met by the ER doctor who had initially treated Caroline. “They’re repairing the compound fractures of her left tibia and fibula.” He had told them. “Re-expansion of her left lung was successful.” Miranda had let out a breath she’d been holding. “She does have a head injury.” Her heart then sank. “Although the initial CT scans look good, we won’t know the full extent until she wakes up.”
And so they had waited, waited for Caroline to get out of surgery and then began to wait for Caroline to wake up.
Miranda didn’t leave Caroline’s side. She held her hand and lovingly caressed her face and told her how much she loved her. She sang lullabies and read to her. She sat for hours gazing on the unconscious form of her daughter and recommitted herself many times over to be a more involved, patient, and loving mother. She also regained her perspective of what really mattered in her life: the people she loved.
She had sent Chance back to the townhouse just before midnight so one of them could be there for Cassidy. Miranda marveled briefly at how well she had gotten along with her ex-husband in the hours they’d waited for word on Caroline’s condition and the subsequent vigil at her bedside. But on second thought, she wasn’t really that surprised, after all, as their issues with each other had never been about which of them was the better parent; they were both good parents. Their issues, rather, had involved Chance’s proclivities for women other than Miranda and, fortunately, Miranda had long gotten over any feelings of betrayal she may have felt. Still, she had little time for Chance in her life and thought of him only as it pertained to the occasional visitation with her daughters. She had moved on and then had moved on yet again more recently from Stephen, she mused as she looked out of Caroline’s hospital room window; she had barely given him a second thought since the divorce. It was odd that someone whom she felt was so significant at one time (significant enough to marry) could be so easily dismissed. For a fleeting moment, Miranda acknowledged that the opposite was sometimes true, too.
Miranda sighed deeply, turned back to the bed, and resumed her watch.
____________________________________
"We need you to make a list of your belongings so we can return them to you."
Andy stared at the blank form on the clipboard for some time. Well, it was blank except for her name and contact information. Huh. It made sense, she figured. Of course, they would be recovering everyone’s belongings from the accident, and they couldn’t very well just stick it all in a big room and tell everyone to pick out their own stuff because, as much as Andy wanted to believe in the goodness of people, she really did know better.
Andy remembered back to the day before and tried to inventory in her mind what she'd had with her. But instead of a list of her belongings coming to mind, the reality of what had happened started to rear its head. And oh -- oh, dear god.
"I can come back in a while if that would help?"
Andy looked up through a film of tears at the very earnest looking young intern-type woman who appeared to be a college sophomore or junior, at most, but definitely not a senior, Andy decided. She didn’t yet exhibit that confidence that said ‘I’m almost finished’. What the woman did exhibit was a sincere level of compassion as Andy brushed the tears from her face.
"No. Um, no, that’s okay. I can do it now." Andy shook her head and took a deep breath. "It’s okay. I only had . . . I mean I just had my bag . . . my bag and, uh …" She looked at the blank, almost blank, form and pressed the pen to the first line: bag, phone, wallet, sunglasses, make-up.
"Um, that’s all I can remember," Andy said after a few more moments and handed the clipboard back.
"That s all right," earnest intern girl answered as she gave a practiced look over the form. "I think I have just about everything I need except can you tell me the color of your bag?"
"Uh, dark brown. It was, I mean, it’s leather. It’s a Marc Jacobs bag. Not a knock off," Andy added, helpfully she felt. Funny that prior to her time at Runway mentioning the designer would never have occurred to Andy. But then prior to Runway Andy would never have owned anything that was, well, designed.
"And the wallet?"
Andy thought for a moment. "It’s Marc Jacobs, too, and it’s sort of orange . . . well, tangerine . . . they call it tangerine."
"What cards did you have in it?"
"Um, just my debit card, my license and my press, uh, credentials,” Andy said. “Oh, and my library and insurance cards." She looked toward the window in her room and thought that it must be very bright outside or at least it felt bright to her because her headache was coming back full bore.
"Any cash?"
"Uh . . ." Andy blinked slowly to try and lessen the pounding in her head. She honestly couldn’t remember an exact amount. "Probably thirty or forty dollars.” Andy shook her head, attempting to either shake the ache out of it or move things around enough for her to remember, or probably both. “Did I say I had a library card in there?"
Andy answered a few more questions for the girl and then looked at her intently.
"Hey, are you doing this for all the victims?"
The girl looked up from her notes. "Well, there are several of us assigned to gather this information."
"Really? Oh. Um.” Andy plucked anxiously at the sheet on her bed. “Well, I’m trying to find a girl, one of the students, who was on the train. We were together . . . I mean after the accident we were together . . . there . . . with each other. Caroline. Her name’s Caroline and she kind of . . . she’s . . . well, I made a promise to her and I haven’t been able to find out if she’s okay or not but I don’t know her last name," Andy said.
"I’m sorry, Ms. Sachs, but I’m not allowed to give out any personal information."
Andy felt a flash of disappointment and annoyance; clearly, clipboard girl was just a tad too by-the-book. But really, in fairness, Andy guessed she shouldn’t blame her. She was just doing her job after all.
"Everyone calls me Andy."
"I'm sorry, Andy, but if it helps I think they’ll be releasing the list in a day or so." She handed Andy her card. "Call me then, okay?"
“Okay, thanks.” Andy looked down at the card. The name “Tiffany Roberts” was handwritten in perfect straight up-and-down script. “Oh, um, Tiffany?” The girl stopped in the door and turned back to Andy. “If you happen to find Caroline are you allowed to tell her that I’m looking for her?”
It had already been twenty-four hours since the accident and it was taking far too long to find Caroline, Andy decided.
___________________________________________
She must have dozed at some point because she was startled from sleep by the sweetest sound.
"Mommy?"
Miranda immediately jerked awake and leaned forward. "I’m here darling, I’m here. Mommy’s right here." She reached for the call button and pressed it then took Caroline’s hand in her own.
"Mommy."
"Yes, darling, I’m here. I’m here," Miranda’s heart was pounding. “I’m right here.”
Caroline’s eyes briefly fluttered open then closed again.
Miranda brushed the back of her hand gently down Caroline’s cheek. "I’m right here my darling girl. Mommy’s right here."
Caroline sighed then moaned.
"Shhh, my love, shhh. You just rest. I’ve got you now. Mommy’s got you." Tears streamed unheeded down Miranda’s cheeks.
A nurse then entered the room and Miranda looked at her wide-eyed.
"She’s awake," Miranda said.
"That’s wonderful news Ms. Priestly. I’ll page the doctor."
Miranda looked back down at Caroline who was becoming restless. She still wasn't very coherent and was mostly muttering and moaning softly in her half-conscious state.
"I need . . . where's Andy?" Caroline said, her eyes were still closed and a few tears leaked from the corners.
Miranda held her hand to the side of Caroline's face to comfort her.
"What's that Caroline? Who?"
"Andy. Where's Andy?" Caroline was quickly becoming agitated.
"Who's Andy, darling?" Miranda whispered this hoping to calm her daughter.
"Caroline, who’s Andy?"
"Andy helped me. I need Andy. I need Andy."
The doctor then entered the room.
____________________________________________
"I need you to find someone."
Emily looked up after waiting a few moments for Miranda to expound on this instruction -- or not. Emily had arrived at Miranda’s request with The Book in hand and a pad for the usually copious note taking.
Miranda then continued with a somewhat bewildered expression on her face. "Caroline keeps asking for this rescue worker who apparently saved her." She waved her hand helplessly in the air. "She said his name is Andrew."
TBC