FIC: Changes Wrought 5/?
Changes Wrought 5/?
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.
Deep appreciation and respect to shesgottaread for the beta and the indulgence.
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
http://bargara-b.livejournal.com/1669.html#cutid1
Current bit here:
Changes Wrought
Chapter Five
“I just need your signature here and your initials here.”
Miranda took the offered pen, glanced over at the sleeping form of her daughter, then back at the form and noted the articles being returned. She signed her name with her typical flourish, and handed back the paperwork.
“Thank you,” the familiar looking young woman said as she looked over the paperwork. “Oh, I’m sorry Ms. Priestly, but if you could please date this we’ll be all set.” She handed the paperwork to Miranda and gestured to a spot near the signature.
Miranda looked more closely at the lines on the form. “And what is the date today?” She asked. It was seldom that Miranda was this unaware; that she couldn’t recall the slightest detail within seconds.
She had gone through the contents of the plastic bag with the young intern to confirm that they were, in fact, Caroline’s. It had taken Miranda a moment to recognize the backpack: a hideous black, white and pink lump covered in a smattering of skulls, crossbones, flames, and hearts--of all things. It was clear that someone had attempted to clean up the backpack but it still looked like it had been dragged through the mud. Seeing this had reminded Miranda not only of what did happen but what could have happened to her child.
As Miranda recapped the pen and handed it back to the young woman, she took a quick visual assessment and narrowed her eyes slightly. “You look familiar to me --” Miranda looked at the photo ID the young woman wore on a lanyard around her neck, “-Ms. Roberts, have we met before?”
“Not formally, Ms. Priestly, but I did handle your initial paperwork the other day. Perhaps you recognize me from there?”
“Mm, perhaps.” Miranda had already directed her attention back to Caroline.
Tiffany Roberts lingered.
“Was there something else?” Miranda asked, her tone suggesting there shouldn’t be.
“Uh, no. No, I guess not.”
She had just exited the room when Miranda called to her.
“Oh, Ms. Roberts?” Tiffany turned in the doorway. Miranda was looking at Caroline as she held her hand and gently rubbed her wrist. “Are you able to tell me how to find one of the rescue workers? My assistant seems to be endlessly hopeless in completing this small task.” Miranda looked up at this point.
“Oh, um, well. I’ve not had anyone ask me that question.” She stepped back into the room and looked thoughtful. “What’s the name?”
“Well,” Miranda hesitated for a moment. “Caroline --” Miranda needlessly brushed Caroline’s hair back from her face, “-- hasn’t been awake much, really, yet. When she has been she’s asked for a rescue worker named Andrew-well, Andy, actually. She said the name Andy,” Miranda added almost as an afterthought and then shrugged.
“Oh, really, she did say Andy?” Tiffany Roberts looked at Miranda then at Caroline then back at Miranda. “I’ll see what I can do, Ms. Priestly.” With that, she turned and left the room.
Miranda stared after her for a bit. Odd girl, she thought to herself.
_______________________________________
“Give me that.” Doug snatched the bag from Andy’s hand. “Now, sit down and wait for the nurse,” he said. “You know the rule for leaving the hospital.”
“I know, I know,” Andy whined, “but I can’t wait to get home to my own bed.”
She gave a deprecating smack to the hospital bed mattress as she sat back down.
Andy was frustrated, pleased to be going home but frustrated just the same. The knee brace was going to be cumbersome and she hadn’t yet fully appreciated how she was going to navigate the even getting to her own bed. Moreover, how was she going to navigate her life?
Andy’d started to think she wouldn’t be released today but the doctor stopped by earlier with release orders in hand. She would start physical therapy in a few days and needed to follow up with her primary care doctor for any medication refills. Andy knew she had been very lucky. Her injuries were minimal in comparison. A dislocated kneecap, Andy had never known you could actually dislocate a kneecap but it made sense when she stopped to think about it, a mild concussion, and some deep bruising to her left hip, which needed to be watched for clots. The swelling over the right side of her face had begun to go down but it was still quite colorful. Yep, Andy was very lucky. She looked at the clock and wondered when she could get home and start her search for Caroline again.
"Hey, Andy." Andy’s nurse came in with the wheelchair. "They’ve ordered your taxi so we need to get you downstairs."
"Okay, Joy," Andy replied.
"Well, don’t be too excited to leave us girl." She bustled around and Andy smiled.
"No, I really am glad to leave. I just wasn’t able to find someone I was looking for, someone from the train."
"Yeah, unfortunately there are rules about all that."
"Yeah, I know."
"Never mind, Andy, you’ll get home and get your reporter groove on and find who you’re looking for." Joy reached down and flipped the footrests up. “Up-a-daisy.”
Settled in the wheelchair Andy held her hands out for her bag. A different intern, not Tiffany Roberts, had brought her lost (well, found really) items to her. She’d been disappointed. Andy had held out some hope that Tiffany Roberts would have been her link to Caroline. But never mind, Andy would find her, she had to.
Doug held the door open and they wheeled Andy out to the curb. She breathed deeply and looked up at the clear skies. Tears suddenly threatened and Andy blinked rapidly.
“Andy, are you all right?” Doug asked.
“Um --” Andy wiped an errant tear. “-- I’ll be okay, thanks.”
“Okay, Andy, let’s get you up and in.”
Between Doug and Joy, they successfully deposited Andy in the back seat of the taxi van. The nurse leaned in and reached over Andy to secure the seat belt while Doug managed to get in the other side with the hospital-issued crutches without banging into Andy’s knee.
“Thanks,” Andy said.
“You’re welcome, Andy.” Joy went to close the door.
“Hey, Joy!” A voice called from the entrance of the hospital. “Hang on just a second.” A young LPN rushed up to the van. “Oh, I’m so glad I caught you. One of those Red Cross liaisons left this note for Andy.” She handed a folded piece of paper to Joy who in turn handed it to Andy. A horn honked behind them.
“Okay, go,” Joy said softly and slid the van door closed.
Andy unfolded the note which had been folded and folded and folded yet again much like a note being passed at school would be folded multiple times, usually into an impossibly small square, as if that would prevent unwanted eyes from reading it or the teacher from intercepting it.
Andy gasped. In perfect up-and-down script the note said: Room 3114.
“Stop the car!”
“What are you doing?” Doug reached to stop Andy from opening the van door.
“It’s Caroline. She’s here.” Before Doug could stop her, Andy grabbed the crutches and was out the door.
Andy had broken her foot when she was in high school so was not unfamiliar with how to properly use a pair of crutches. However, Andy hadn’t anticipated the fact that this time she couldn’t bend her knee. It slowed her down a lot.
“Andy, wait.” Doug caught up with her. “Let me get you a wheelchair.”
“No, I can’t wait Doug. She’s here and I have to see her now,” Andy called over her shoulder. “And anyway, I’m not a patient anymore; I don’t have to have a wheelchair.”
____________________________________________________
“No. I will not compromise on this. Do as I instructed. I do not have the time or the --” Miranda’s voice caught. “Nigel, I don’t have the …” Miranda looked down the hall toward Caroline’s room. “Just take care of it, please.” She finished softly and shut her phone.
Miranda had commandeered a small waiting nook where she handled her phone calls. She couldn’t justify doing that in front of Caroline even though Caroline hadn’t really regained consciousness other than a few brief fevered moments. Also, Miranda did not want to bring that kind of energy into her daughter’s room, her being conscious or not. Miranda liked to believe that Caroline was more aware than she appeared and that she wouldn’t want her mother distracted by phone calls. She walked to the small window that looked out onto the small semicircle drive for pick ups and drop offs. The sky was incredibly clear today and Miranda just stood and watched the ebb and flow of traffic for a moment. How was it that it felt like she’d been in this hospital for ages when it had barely been 48 hours since she was called out of her meeting? A smile ghosted across her lips as she remembered Emily’s brave interruption. The girl sometimes really did have what it takes. Miranda halted that thought almost as soon as it started. She’d hold off on any praise -- be it only to herself -- of Emily until she produced the rescue worker. Caroline had only mentioned this Andy one more time and then had become rather incoherent as she started to carry on about needing to tell this Andy that she had been nine years old. Caroline was very earnest in making that point to Miranda. Miranda had patted her daughter’s hand and held a cool washcloth to her forehead.
Miranda was brought back by an incoming text. She flipped open her phone to read Nigel’s text: It’s taken care of. Before she characteristically shut her phone without responding, Miranda uncharacteristically responded: Thank you. Gathering her belongings and refusing to acknowledge that she truly was bone-tired, Miranda walked back to Caroline’s room. She would take time for herself later, she decided, once she knew that Caroline was going to be all right. She paused to take a deep breath and then she opened the door.
The next few moments of Miranda Priestly’s life occurred in slow motion.
TBC