New fic: Light Up, Part VII
Light Up
Fandom: Devil Wears Prada
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Disclaimer: I don’t own Miranda or Andy, or anything remotely related to the Devil or Prada. Alas.
Rating: M
Note: Melodrama alert! Couldn’t resist. Thanks as ever to my beta, Xander, who helped immensely in keeping this one on track. Xan, you’re a star!
Part VII.
Though calmer than she had been all day, Miranda paced back and forth in front of the bed as the surgeon finished the last of the stitches. She had a difficult time looking at the wounds, even though they'd given Andrea anesthetic. Andrea watched her as she held an ice pack to her swollen eye. "You're shivering," Andrea said, and the doctor looked up silently before going back to work.
Miranda’s feet were like ice, and her snow-dampened hair hadn't dried even though the hospital was warmer than the ambulance. "I'm fine."
"You should change."
With a chuckle, Miranda said, "I didn't bring spare shoes, unfortunately."
"We can get you some booties," the doctor offered.
"No, thank you," Miranda said, eyebrow raised. "We'll be home soon enough."
"I don't want to survive a hostage situation to have you drop dead of pneumonia, Miranda," Andrea growled.
If there hadn't been forty photographers outside the hospital, Miranda may have agreed to it, but she had enough to deal with now that they'd realized something was up. She could only imagine the headlines. "Don't worry about me, darling. I'm tougher than I look."
"How'd you get past the press line?" Andrea asked. "You looked like you were with a bunch of cops."
Miranda glanced at the doctor, knowing he was listening. "I'll tell you later." Enough of their story would be in the papers; the world didn't need every detail. A few moments later, as the doctor wrapped gauze around the cuts, Miranda heard frantic voices in the hallway. Andrea's eyes lit up, and Miranda went to the door to wave her parents inside. "Here," Miranda said, recognizing the couple from photos Andrea had shown her.
The pair hurried forward and bolted past Miranda into the room and to the bed, where they embraced their daughter. Within a few seconds they were all crying, and Miranda felt tears sting the backs of her eyes in sympathy. Feeling uncomfortable, as though she was an unwelcome intruder, she backed out of the room until she heard Andrea call her name. "Miranda, come here."
Three faces watched her expectantly. When Miranda eyed the doctor, he correctly translated the silent message of "Get out" and departed.
"So this is the mysterious 'M' you've been talking about all this time," Charles said. "I thought it was short for 'Emma' or 'Emily.'"
Miranda looked at Andrea in surprise. She hadn't known Andrea had said anything to her parents about the fact that she was seeing a woman. "Yeah. I thought you'd freak out if you knew, well, any of it," Andrea said.
"You'd have been right, but I think we're willing to look past all that today," Isabelle Sachs said. Andrea's mother came forward and held out her hands, which Miranda took. "Thank you, Miranda." And Miranda then found herself in the warm embrace of someone very close to her own age, who resembled Andrea quite a bit. "I'm so glad you were there for her, and for taking care of us as well. I can't tell you how helpful your arrangements have been. Emily was a godsend."
Miranda had to clear her throat before she spoke. "I was concerned that the weather might delay your flight."
"We had no trouble at all. And getting that message from Andrea, my god, it was a miracle. I think the flight attendants thought we were going to tear the door off the plane to get here faster."
"I'm sure," Miranda said, patting Isabelle's hand awkwardly.
"Come, sit. You must be exhausted, and your hands are frozen." Isabelle led Miranda to the side of the bed and nearly pushed her down. Andrea wiped her eyes and stroked Miranda's leg.
From the opposite side of the bed, Charles Sachs reached out to touch Miranda's arm uncertainly. "Thank you," he said, still having trouble pulling himself together.
Miranda simply nodded. She had no idea why they were so grateful. She hadn't been the one to rescue Andrea; she’d only had someone give them a ride from the airport.
Charles hugged Andrea against his side once again, careful of her injured arm. "My baby," he said. "I'm so relieved. I don't know what we would have done."
Miranda knew how he felt.
"I'm okay, Dad." Andrea wiped her nose before leaning on his chest.
They sat quietly together, not saying anything. It was strangely peaceful, despite the smell of disinfectant in the air, and the noisy activity just happening outside the room. After a little while, there was a knock at the door, and Detective Rodine poked his head in. "Sorry to interrupt," he said. "But I need to speak to Andy."
Charles and Isabelle looked at each other, while Miranda glanced at Andrea. Their eyes met, and Andrea bobbed her head. "All right," Miranda said softly. "Come in, Detective."
"Can Miranda stay?" Andrea asked.
"Sure. I'll try to make it as painless as possible."
Charles and Isabelle were reluctant to depart, but Andrea waved her hand. "It's okay. I can tell you everything after. I just… think it might be better if I do this on my own."
Charles kissed Andrea on the top of her head. "We won't make a sound," he said, hoping.
"No, Dad. I can handle it. Miranda will be here."
Miranda didn't quite know what to say to that; why she'd been given the privilege over her parents was a mystery. They left quietly, and Isabelle gave Andrea a sad smile. "We'll be right outside," she said.
"Thanks, Mom."
Miranda took a chair next to the bed, and the detective settled at her right. "I didn't want them to hear everything," Andrea said softly. "My dad worries enough. This is going to make it harder on them."
"Oh," Miranda said. She hadn't considered that. Leave it to Andrea to be more concerned about her parents than herself.
Rodine set a digital recorder out to take her statement, and rattled off a few details for his own record. “Let's get started. How did your day begin?"
Andrea's eyes widened at the question, and Miranda looked away when she remembered the morning. They'd made love less than twelve hours before. It already felt like a month ago. Andrea cleared her throat, blushing just a touch. "You mean, when I got to the house?"
"Sure, that works."
Andrea took a deep breath and began. "Well, I went and got breakfast for Maria and the kids, and met them at their place. We were talking about everything, you know, Joey, and how she was feeling about the future. She was nervous, and hopeful that he would leave her alone since they'd broken up before he went to jail. Pedro was playing in his crib, and Lucy was doing a puzzle in the corner, and we heard this crash. Joey came in through the back door; he must have hopped the fence. Anyway, he looked… scary. Like he was going to kill Maria right then and there."
Miranda took a deep breath, and Andrea reached out for her hand.
"So he came in," Rodine encouraged.
"Right. He was there, and I didn't see the gun at first, because it was tucked in the back of his pants. Lucy started crying right away, and I stood up out of my chair, and he just punched me." Andrea lifted a hand to her bruised eye. "I've never gotten hit like that before. It shocked me more than anything. I mean, all of it." She shook her head. "It hurt so much, and I just couldn't believe he'd hit me right there, in front of the kids. I grew up with parents who loved each other, and me, and I never saw my dad raise a hand to anyone. It sort of woke me right up to the reality of what Maria went through, in that one second. And Lucy, especially. She's only four."
Rodine nodded. "What happened next?"
"He went after Maria. I ran to the front door, and he pulled the gun and fired once. If you go to the house, you'll find the bullet stuck in the wall, to the right of the doorframe.” Andrea shuddered. "He missed my head by about a foot. Thank god he was high."
"Okay. I'll make a note," the detective said, and marked down the detail on his pad.
Miranda was glad Andrea's parents were gone. She didn't think she wanted to hear more, but she would. If Andrea lived through it, Miranda could stand to know what happened.
"So obviously I didn't go anywhere, and he shoved this bookcase in front of the door, and locked the windows and pulled the blinds and everything. He made us get in the corner, with the kids, and they were crying like crazy by then, and he was yelling about getting them to shut up, just shut up," she repeated, like she was reliving it. "’Shut those goddamned kids up, you stupid bitch,’ he said. ‘I'm gonna fucking kill you if you don't shut those fucking kids up.’" Andrea's eyes were glazed, and her words trailed off. When she didn't say more, Miranda looked at the detective, and he nodded in Andrea's direction.
"Andrea," Miranda said, voice gentle.
That seemed to shake Andrea out of her daze. "Right. Um, so we got them calmed down, and he just started pacing. Back and forth. And then some cops came, and he freaked out. He fired a second shot next to the door again, and we knew that more cops were on their way by then." She inhaled deeply, and let out the breath to calm herself. "He just kept pacing, talking to himself, kind of knocking the gun against his head. That went on for a long time. Then the phone rang." She gripped Miranda's hand tightly. "It was the police, and he hung up right away. He went back to pacing."
"What time to you think that was?"
"Probably eleven? Oh yeah, it had to be just past eleven, because right after the cops called he started asking me all these questions, like who was I, why was I there. I just told him I was a friend of Maria's. He made me give him my phone, and he smashed it." She met Miranda's eyes. "The new iPhone you gave me, with all those pictures I took last week. Wish I'd saved them."
"It's all right," Miranda said. "We'll have plenty of time to take more."
The detective waited, and Andrea began anew. "I think we just sat in the corner for at least an hour, while he talked to himself. The phone rang sporadically, and he didn't pick up. Not then, at least. Eventually, he turned on the tv, and flipped channels for a while, and then we saw the news report." Running a hand through her hair, Andrea sighed. "That was not a good thing. He went crazy. He broke every dish and glass in the kitchen. He threw stuff at the wall, and the baby started crying again, and he yelled for a while, and he pushed Maria around. You know, against the wall. I had Lucy, and he didn't come near either of us then. Anyway, he left the tv on, and I saw you," Andrea said, gazing at Miranda. She laughed once. "I seriously couldn't believe it. You were with that cop, and I swear to god, I expected you to come busting through the door at some point." Miranda smiled at her. "How did you get there, by the way? Who was that guy?"
"Detective Marcus Samuelson,” Miranda said. “We met at a fundraiser for St. Vincent's Trauma Center a few years ago. He spoke at the event about his experiences on September 11. We've stayed in touch. Mostly when he has a speaking engagement."
Miranda did not mention that she wrote annual checks now to St. Vincent's trauma center because of Detective Samuelson. "That's good," she said. "He seemed like a nice guy."
"Yes."
"Anyway, he watched that for a while, and then he turned the station and watched part of a movie. 'Die Hard' was on TBS. Can you believe that? I'm being held hostage by some nutjob, and he wants to watch Bruce Willis kill a bunch of terrorists. It seemed… crazy. I felt like he was crazy, and I was halfway there. A commercial came on, and I just started asking him questions. Stupid stuff, about his childhood, and what jail was like, and what it would take for him to let us go. He didn't say much, but I kept on talking, I guess because I thought it might help him calm down, and finally he just dragged me to the closet and threw me in." Andrea stopped then, and put a hand to her forehead.
Miranda waited patiently. She watched Rodine, who sat back in the plastic chair, in no hurry. He met Miranda's eyes and gave her a gentle nod. It's okay, it said. After a few minutes of silence, Andrea raised her head and wiped away a few tears. "You'd think I'd have felt safer there, away from him, but it was much, much worse. I don't know why. I was just alone. I kept waiting to hear screaming, or gunfire. And I… I thought he might rape Maria. I was terrified."
Miranda swallowed back her tears, wanting very much to be strong, but she lost the battle and they streamed out. Andrea didn't seem to notice though, and she was glad for it.
"I'm not really sure how long I was there, but it felt like forever. It had to be at least a couple hours, because by the time he let me out everything was almost over. When he did, he yanked my arm and shoved me across the room. I slammed into the window, and that's when I got cut." She touched her arm carefully. "The phone rang again, and he picked it up, and when he was talking Maria whispered to me that he was trying to negotiate his way out of the house. He wanted all sorts of crazy stuff, like money, and a car, and things that were obviously not going to turn out. But he was desperate by that point, and the cops were saying all the right things." Andrea gripped Miranda's hand tightly again. "Then everything started happening. He had the gun, and he was waving it around, gloating about the fact that he was going to get away, and how Maria was never going to get another piece of him again after everything she'd taken for all these years, and he aimed the gun at her. I think maybe I screamed 'No' or something, but I heard this crashing, and two guys came in the back door. I kind of dropped to the floor and pushed Lucy down, and I guess Joey pointed the gun and they fired and he fell down." She took another breath. "That was it. That's all."
The room was hushed, until Detective Rodine spoke.
"That's great, Andy. You did real good. You did everything right." Into the recorder, he said, "End of interview, Sachs, Andrea. Time, 6:06." He turned it off and stood. "We'll need to talk again, and you might have to testify in court."
"No problem," Andrea said immediately. "I want him to go away for life."
Detective Rodine chuckled. "Okay. Don't worry about anything. I'll be in touch. I have your information, and Ms. Priestly's. You staying there tonight?"
Andrea nodded.
"Good. Glad you've got your family around you. And if you need to talk, or you remember anything, anything at all, even the smallest detail, you call me. Day or night." He handed her a card. "My cell's on there."
"Okay, thanks," Andrea said. "Really."
"Sure. You get better, and like I said, you did everything right. Take care, both of you." He stood, and Miranda shook his hand.
"Thank you, Detective."
Rodine nodded, and left.
Miranda waited for Andrea's parents to reappear, but they didn't. She looked around aimlessly until Andrea slid over on the bed and patted the space next to her. At that point, Miranda recalled that they hadn't had a single moment alone since the whole ordeal began. It was a relief to ease onto the mattress and press her lips to Andrea's temple. "I love you," she breathed.
Andrea slid an arm around Miranda's back and pulled her into a half-embrace. "I love you too. Don't know what I'd do without you. I'm so glad you're here."
Miranda tried to hold back, but she cried yet again, burying her face in Andrea's warm, salty neck. She smelled of sweat and fear, and other unnamed things that would live on as reminders of this day in the future. But she also smelled alive, which was more important than anything. She did not tell Andrea how she had prayed, and cried, and smoked her way through the day. Someday, she might. But not tonight. Tonight, she would hold her beloved close, and count herself among the luckier people in the world.
---
In a stroke of luck, the night had gone better than Miranda's wildest dreams, despite the fact that she had to sit through two and a half hours of a Julie Andrews movie musical. She’d distracted herself with work, and occasionally listened in on Andrea's conversations with the girls. They'd amused her greatly.
"The Captain is soooo cute," Caroline had whispered somewhere in the middle of the film.
"He's old," Cassidy had countered.
"Sometimes old isn't a bad thing," Andrea had whispered.
"You mean like with Mom?" Caroline said, eagerly. "She's way older than you."
With a tone far wiser than her years, Andrea replied, "That's one example. But people who are older can be pretty smart. I'm partial to people who have lived a little. Then again, they're not always as nice as your Mom. They don't always mean well, so trust your instincts. But Captain Von Trapp is definitely nice, not to mention cute!" She laughed, and the girls giggled with her.
Later, Andrea kissed the girls goodnight when they went to bed, and said, "See you in the morning."
They'd nudged each other, and when they hugged Miranda, Cassidy whispered, "She's okay, Mom."
"Go to bed," Miranda told her.
When Andrea joined her under the sheets soon after, her expression was one of supreme satisfaction. "I did pretty good, didn't I," she said.
"Mm-hmm," Miranda said, not looking at her.
"Aren't you sorry you didn't trust me?"
“Not really. I wanted to be prepared. Just in case."
"A lot of worry for nothing. And since I never get to do this, let me just say, 'I told you so.'"
"That's the first and last time you're ever allowed to say such a thing," Miranda drawled. She pulled Andrea close and slid a knee between her bare legs.
"’S okay. Once is enough. I'll enjoy the memory of it for the rest of my life."
Miranda nibbled her collarbone. "Arrogant minx," she muttered, but the softness of Andrea's skin encouraged her to let go of her faux-irritation. She licked her way up Andrea's neck to her mouth, until she said, "Happy birthday."
"Thanks." Andrea ran a hand down Miranda's back to her bottom, where she began to inch the silver nightgown up her body. "When can I open my present?" she exhaled, lips parted and full.
"Now would be a good time," Miranda replied, reaching over to the nightstand for a box in silver wrapping paper and bow.
"This wasn't exactly what I had in mind," Andrea pouted.
"Patience, my darling."
Andrea unwrapped the slim box, and opened the tissue that held a single piece of paper. She read it aloud: "This entitles you and the guest of your choice for a three night stay at the Mandarin Oriental for a romantic spa weekend, including side-by-side massages, hot stone treatments, manicure, pedicure and facial, and any other treatment of your choice. Enjoy your stay in our luxurious suite overlooking Central Park West, with fireplace, gourmet kitchen, private steam room and stunning vistas of the city and park." She tapped her chin with the box. "Hmm. I'm not sure who I should take. Lils would probably be really into the massage, but Doug has always wanted a hot stone treatment--"
Miranda rolled her over and pinned both arms to the bed. "Take your time deciding, dear. I'm in no hurry."
Andrea smiled seductively. "The first weekend you have free, consider yourself booked."
"That's more like it." Miranda dipped her head and kissed her slowly.
“Now can I open my present?”
Miranda’s gown was then lifted up and off, and she didn’t notice where it landed after Andrea threw it across the room.
---
Part VIII.