New fic: Sharp Relief, R, Part III
Title: Sharp Relief
Author: chilly-flame
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything related to the Devil or Prada. Alas.
Notes: Huge thanks to my beta, Xander, who read and reread this one a lot as it evolved. Also, I’m not a medical doctor (surprise) but I do my best with research. Finally, this story is based on one of my all-time favorite tv tropes. We’re heading into melodrama territory, folks, but stay with me!
---
NOW.
Stunned into immobility, Andy has a whole conversation with Miranda, or someone who sounds like Miranda. She never realizes she is crying. Her heart is a sunburst inside her chest, and she is afraid her head will explode with all the energy coursing through her body. After she hangs up, she runs at full speed upstairs, straight into Cassidy’s room. She throws the door open so hard that the doorjamb smashes into the wall and leaves a dent.
“What!” Cassidy, or maybe Caroline shouts. Andy can’t tell, because they are both sitting up in bed, illuminated by a sliver of light and staring at her with terrified faces.
Andy turns on the bedroom light. “Listen. I want you both to pack a bag with clothes for tomorrow, and a toothbrush and whatever you’d need for a short car trip. Computer, phones, chargers. Right now.”
“Andy, are you going crazy?” one of the girls says.
Andy laughs and covers her mouth. “I might be, but I need you to do this. Right away. We’re going somewhere. I’ll leave a note for your dad.”
The one on the left, who Andy now believes is Caroline, says, “Is this about Mom?” She is starting to catch Andy’s fever, judging by the look in her eyes.
“Yes.”
The girls look at each other, and back at Andy. Cassidy asks, “Is it good?”
“It might be,” Andy hedges. She can’t be sure until she sees Miranda in the glorious, wonderful flesh. “It really might be.”
“Come on,” Cassidy says, and the two roll out of bed like a shot.
Andy bolts for Miranda’s room. She has no spare clothing of her own, but she figures Miranda won’t mind if she borrows a few things. She’ll also bring some items in case the Miranda from the phone really is Miranda. She spends less than five minutes grabbing clothes from Miranda’s closet, as well as some toiletries from the en suite bathroom. Once back in the hallway, she meets the twins, who are breathing heavily. They are still dressed in their pajamas, but they each have backpacks slung over their shoulders. Cassidy carries two pillows, while Caroline holds a teddy bear.
“Ready?” Andy asks.
“Yep,” they answer in unison.
Downstairs they race, and Andy heads for the kitchen to leave a note for Jeremy. She should call him, but he’s drunk by now and shouldn’t drive. Nor does Andy want him in the car with the kids-too much of a distraction. Instead she scrawls a note:
Got a weird phone call. Things are up in the air about the accident. The girls are with me, call when you see this. Talk to you soon, sorry for this-
Andy
She leaves her phone number at the bottom of the page. Spotting a collection of keys hanging innocently on the rack at the back door by the garden, Andy leaves the note on the kitchen table and grabs the key ring for the Audi. “Okay, so we can’t go out the front. Back up plan?”
“There’s a fire escape over the garden wall,” Caroline says. She’s already thought it through. “We should climb.”
The three of them make a break for it. In the dark, escaping silently with a bag of someone else’s things over her shoulder, someone else’s keys in hand, someone else’s kids with her, Andy feels like a thief. Without making a sound, Andy goes first, up the metal ladder to the top of the wall. When she gets there, Andy extends the half of it that reaches down into the street. She goes over easily, adrenaline pushing her on, and the kids scamper after her like they’ve done it every day of their lives. With effort she shoves the extendable half of the ladder back up so no one can use it to get into the garden. The garage is just across the alley, and in minutes, they are peeling around the corner in the A8 that Miranda favors when traveling with the kids. It’s fast, but it’s safe, and she listens closely as the GPS spits out directions. 3rd Avenue has never felt so long, but Andy is patient and joyful when she finally reaches the George Washington Bridge.
Behind her, the girls are quiet until Andy makes it to Route 17, when the GPS stops talking and Andy is on an open road. Her heart is still racing, but she is calm, because she needs to arrive in one piece to see Miranda again. She is dying to believe that it is really her-how could she have known all those details otherwise? Andy has no idea how this whole clusterfuck could have happened, but her main goal is to deliver the two girls in the backseat to Miranda as fast as possible.
“Andy, is my mom alive?” one of the girls asks timidly. It must be Caroline.
Andy hates to get their hopes up, but she can’t hold it back. “I think she might be, honey. I am really, really hoping so.”
“What happened?” That was definitely Cassidy, judging by tone.
Andy describes the phone call, and both girls listen carefully. “No one else knew I helped your mom pack the car this morning. You two didn’t even know I was at your house this morning, did you,” Andy says.
“No,” they reply together. “Joanna stayed over last night to help us get ready for school today. I didn’t see either of you,” says Cassidy.
“Right. And the voice on the phone sounded a lot like her. I mean, I may be crazy. I feel kind of crazy. I’ve felt crazy since I heard from the police this morning, but if your mom is alive, I owe it to her to be there for her. And I owe it to you two. So, we’re going. We’re almost there, in fact.”
Neither of the twins has anything else to say, so Andy turns on the radio to a classical station. When they get closer to the hospital, she never even considers pulling over to use the rest stop at County Road 38, where all their troubles began.
Liberty is a tiny, charming town. After only a few turns off the interstate Andy screeches into the medical center’s parking lot and the Audi jerks as they come to a stop in a spot. Cassidy and Caroline are laughing, and Andy’s out the door as fast as they are. It’s almost one in the morning, so the place is deserted, but anyone who gets in her way is going to be ignored or run down.
They burst into the small medical center all at once, startling the nurse at the front desk. “I’m looking for Miranda,” Andy says. “Miranda Priestly.” The woman gapes at her-they must present quite the sight. “I don’t care about visiting hours-we’re going to see her right now. Where is she?”
“Hello!” Another woman down a long hallway calls, waving her hand. She is dressed in scrubs and one of those flowery nurse smocks. “Are you Andrea?”
“Go!” Andy says, and the girls race forward.
“This way,” the woman says, and Andy follows, more slowly. She’s a little out of breath, and a lot afraid that she’s just made the biggest mistake of her life. She turns the corner and sees the girls running into a room with the nurse, and pauses. She’s unable to make another step until she hears the cries of joy--”Mom! Mom!”
Andy knows now, and she slumps against the wall, overcome. She hears the girls’ voices, only about twenty yards away, and she can barely move. She sees a tall, brawny police officer leave the room, and he’s smiling, shaking his head. Andy pushes away from the painted concrete and catches the man’s eye. “Hello,” she says.
He bobs his head and walks toward her. “Hi there. Are you Andrea?” He says it the way Miranda does.
“Yes. And you?” She holds out a hand to shake his, and he takes it.
“Officer Harris Welk. Nice to meet you.”
“So you were… talking to her? Miranda?”
With a smile, he answers drolly, “She’s a corker, that one. Even concussed out of her mind with a dozen staples in her head.”
Andy’s stomach clenches. “Staples? Oh my god. What happened?”
Officer Harris glances over his shoulder, as though realizing that he might be talking out of turn. He shrugs. “What I’ve been able to piece together with my colleagues in Broome is that your friend was at a rest stop when she was assaulted by two individuals. While I wouldn’t say they were ‘lying in wait,’ since they didn’t know she’d be there, it was definitely a crime of opportunity. They saw her car, saw her alone, assaulted her and dragged her behind the rest stop. It’s why they were able to clean up quickly-she lost most of the blood in the dirt.”
Andy feels a little faint. She takes a breath. “Blood?”
“Head wounds do it every time. Anyway, she was out for much of the morning and afternoon. No one goes behind the rest stop other than to take out the trash, and she was behind some thick bushes. She woke up, crawled out, scared the shit out of some kids and an ambulance brought her right here. The doc said she was worried for a while but she’s on the uptick now.”
“Have you been able to identify the people who stole her car?” And died, Andy thinks.
“They’ve got some ideas, but you shouldn’t concern yourself about that. Go see your friend. She’s been waiting.”
“Okay, thanks.” Andy shakes the man’s hand again. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Harris looks at his watch with a sigh. “Yep, and it’s already 1. The wife’s going to give me a dirty look when I get home. Try to get some rest yourself. You look like the walking dead, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
Andy chuckles. This man has a nice way about him; she doesn’t take it as an insult. “Good night, Officer.” The man lumbers away, and Andy looks back at the open door at the end of the hall. She finally starts to move toward it, eager to see Miranda, alive and whole for the most part. Considering how fast she moved to get here, she can’t explain her reticence, but it’s there and she needs to get the hell over it. She walks calmly and quietly down the empty corridor and doesn’t hesitate to step into the room.
To her amazement, Miranda really is there. She’s all Andy sees for a good fifteen seconds, and then the rest of the room comes into focus. The walls are cream and bare. There’s an old tv screwed into the wall on mute, and Andy recognizes the CNN logo in the corner. There are no flowers, nothing beautiful, nothing at all Andy would normally associate with Miranda. Only the beloved face that stares out at her with wide, gloriously open eyes.
“H-hi,” Andy says, trying to keep the ball of happiness in her belly from being too obvious.
Miranda has a twin under each arm, but she holds out her hand. “Andrea,” Miranda says, and the sound is so completely familiar and unexpected that Andy feels the tears start as her face crumples. She makes some kind of noise and the twins look alarmed, but Miranda soothes them and waves Andy closer. “Come here, now,” and Andy listens, as she always does. She goes right up to Miranda, and there’s room to lean forward, not really over the girls, but onto Miranda’s shoulder. She rests her head there as her body quakes, and the sobs spill out against her will. “Andrea,” Miranda says again, and Andy puts her hand to Miranda’s cheek, feeling how soft and warm it is. She smells her skin, the curve of her neck, the shell of her ear, although there is a bandage in the way of part of it. She does not smell like herself, but Andy doesn’t care, because it really is Miranda.
Andy can barely catch her breath; she has snotted up Miranda’s thin hospital gown, but she can’t stop crying. She lays her head on Miranda’s shoulder for a minute, just getting the feel of her once more. A small hand starts to pat Andy’s arm awkwardly-it’s Caroline, only a few inches away from Andy, still holding tightly to her mother.
It’s then that Andy realizes what she’s done, and her head jerks up. She covers her face with an arm to wipe her nose, and whispers, “Sorry, sorry. I just--”
“Don’t,” Miranda says, very firmly. She reaches out and draws Andy back toward her, tucking Andy’s head into the crook of her neck. “Don’t go.”
Andy melts then; her sobs quiet but the tears still fall, and she holds Miranda, and her two children along with her.
---
When Miranda watches Andrea walk into her hospital room after a protracted wait, she can hardly believe it. She can believe it even less when Andrea’s face contorts into an expression of such agony that it hurts her. Andrea emits a wounded cry, a primal sound, and stumbles forward to stand before her, head falling against Miranda’s shoulder. The girls shift to make room for her in their circle.
Miranda expected a bright smile, perhaps a friendly, marginally distant hug. She expected disbelief and excitement at this mess that’s taken place. Anything but this grief, as if Andrea is deep in mourning and has not shown it until this moment. Caroline and Cassidy each curl in more tightly, and Miranda is reminded of the pain they must have gone through today. Miranda remembers her own father’s death with perfect clarity, despite the passing of almost forty years. She is angry that her girls have had to experience this, but grateful to be able to grant them the relief of her presence now.
Andrea sobs, and reaches up blindly to touch Miranda’s face. Miranda had cried when the girls ran to her and hugged her; she cries again now as Andrea caresses her skin with breathtaking tenderness. She feels Andrea’s tears seep through her gown, feels her damp lips ghost along her throat. She is more surrounded by love in this moment than she has been in her whole life, and she has never been more grateful to be alive.
When Andrea pulls away, Miranda draws her back, because she needs this. Andrea returns and embraces her and Cassidy and Caroline sweetly. Miranda covets the feel of her, the scent of her. She’s wearing Chanel No. 5, which tugs at Miranda’s brain with its familiarity. It’s like being home, and Miranda closes her eyes.
She’s not sure how long they stay wrapped up together, but it’s a while. When Andrea finally steps back, her face is blotchy and wet. There is mascara smeared under her eyes. She is lovely, even weeping. “Hi, Miranda. I’m glad to see you.”
Miranda smiles very slightly. “And I you.”
Andy glances at the bandage that winds around Miranda’s whole head. “You’re all right?”
“I suppose,” Miranda says, not making a move to touch her head, which still feels too big for her skull. She has swelling and pain, but this is nothing compared to what she felt earlier in the day when she first woke. “I’ve been worse. Better too, but in the scheme of things, I’m excellent.”
Andrea gasps at the words. “Oh shit, that’s right. You’re supposed to be dead, and I didn’t tell anyone you called. I wanted to get here before the press, and we just took off. I left a note for Jeremy. I hope he’s not freaking out.” She rummages in the large bag she has over one shoulder. “No messages. I should call. Better me than you, I think. And then I guess I’ll start with Leslie. And Nigel.”
Andrea dials, and Jeremy picks up right away--Miranda can hear his voice booming through the tiny speaker from five feet away. “Jeremy, listen, sit down.” Andrea covers the microphone and whispers, “He’s had a lot of scotch.” Miranda rolls her eyes. “Listen, the girls are with me, and I just drove up north to a town called Liberty. Listen, are you ready?” She pauses. “No, listen. Miranda is alive. I’m looking right at her. I needed to come here and confirm it before I started spreading the word.” There’s a stretch of silence when Jeremy shouts some more, and Miranda holds her hand out for the phone.
“Jeremy,” she says.
That stops his tirade. “Hello?”
“Hello, Jeremy. I’m alive. I was assaulted and my car stolen. You can confirm the details here with the police, but for now, I’m in the hospital. Andrea brought the girls here at my request, and I apologize for not reaching you earlier. I tried your home, but I couldn’t recall your cell number. My phone was destroyed in the accident today.”
He starts to cry, and again, Miranda finds herself tearful. He tells her how devastated he was to lose her, how much he regrets so many things, how he still loves her deep down and always will. These are words he wouldn’t be saying if he was sober, but still, it’s nice to hear the outpouring of affection. “I love you, Jeremy. But you should really rest. You sound…” She glances at Cassidy, who mouths the word loaded. “Like you need to get some sleep. Come up tomorrow. I’ll be here. We all will.”
“Okay, Miranda,” he says, slurring. “I’ll get details from Andy tomorrow.” He stops briefly, and asks, “Is this real?”
“Yes, Jeremy. It’s real. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”
“Okay, love you, ‘Randa.”
“Yes, yes, goodbye.”
She hangs up. “Leslie next.” Andrea dials, and to her surprise, Leslie picks up right away as well. Andrea gives her the speech, sit down, there is news, Miranda is alive, and Leslie’s response is far less melancholy than Jeremy’s, and much happier. It’s a pleasant change. She’s actually cheerful and excited to drive up to Liberty in the morning, and when she speaks to Miranda, she is very sweet.
“You know, kid, I didn’t think anything could take you down,” Leslie tells her. “I’m glad to know I was right.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Miranda says, touching her bandage. “But I survived.”
Nigel is next. Andrea dials and leaves a message to call her back immediately. She hesitates to leave the news over the phone, and Miranda agrees, mouthing for her to hang up. She does, and a moment later the phone rings in her hand. “It’s him.” She glances at the door anxiously, at the same time Miranda recalls the “no cell phones in the hospital rule.” They will keep it quick.
Andrea begins carefully. “I’m just going to say this fast and put you out of your misery, Nige-Miranda is alive.” Andrea listens for a moment, and replies, “No, I swear to god. You know I wouldn’t joke about this. Never. I’m with her now. She got assaulted and some asshole,” she grimaces, glancing at the girls, “smashed up the car. She’s in a medical center up north. I just got here and the twins are with me. I called Leslie and I’m going to let her handle everything, but Nigel, you should really-well, here.” Andrea hands the phone over.
Miranda holds it to her ear. “Hello, Nigel.”
“Goddamn, Miranda. Goddamn.” He doesn’t say anything for a solid minute, but she can hear the sounds coming over the line. She hasn’t cried this much for decades, but when one is mistaken for dead, one should be given a little leeway. “I’m glad as fucking hell you’re alive,” he manages.
“Me too, darling,” she says, sniffling.
“When can I see you? This day has been for shit, everything just blew up. And I don’t mean professionally, Miranda. We haven’t always agreed on everything over the years but you’re my best friend and I missed you like crazy even for just a single day.”
Miranda’s heart feels light, and she smiles at Andrea, who gazes back beatifically. “Soon as you can. We’ve disregarded the notion of visiting hours.”
“We’ll come early. In a few hours. Emily’s asleep on my sofa, let me get her.”
“Yes, of course.”
Miranda waits, and is rewarded by the sound of a groggy Emily saying, “Who the bloody hell is this, calling in the middle of the night on the worst bloody day of my sodding life?”
“Emily, this is Miranda.”
There is no reply, followed by a noisy squawk; Andrea did have the right idea of warning people first. Poor Emily. She shouts a succession of Oh my gods before she manages to form coherent, albeit brief sentences. “You’re alive! And you’re all right?”
“I’m in the hospital, Nigel will explain. But I’m here. And I’ve no intention of going anywhere, so you won’t be able to orchestrate the coup I’m sure you’ve planned to become the second youngest Editor in Chief Runway has ever seen.”
Emily sighs. “Oh Miranda. I am so happy. I-don’t know what to say. Welcome back.”
Miranda smiles at this. “Come with Nigel. And leave work at home, will you? Have Nigel deal with everything.”
“Of course, Miranda. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodbye.”
“Bye.” Before Miranda hangs up, she hears a whoop of joy on the other end of the line. It’s the two of them, and they are as happy as Emily said she was. Andrea hears it too, and she grins.
“Is that enough for now?” she asks.
“Yes, I think so. Tomorrow we’ll have to figure out what’s next, but I’m tired, and the girls are too, aren’t you Bobbseys?” They nod. “And you…” Andrea looks terrible, pale and fatigued. “You need rest.”
Andrea nods, to Miranda’s surprise. “I do. Let me go see the nurse about some cots for the girls.” And she’s gone, although a few seconds later, she pokes her head back into the room. “Just checking.”
---
Andy spends five minutes helping the nurse, whose name is Moira, get cots out of storage for the kids. There are only two available; Moira promises that they’ll move Miranda’s still sleeping roommate out the following morning and leave an empty bed there for anyone who needs rest. They dress the cots with clean sheets and orderlies haul them to either side of Miranda’s bed. Andy has decided to take the chair in the corner, and she’s quite sure that she will fall asleep exactly thirty seconds after she sits.
She helps the girls get changed and settled under the covers. She glances back at Miranda, who asks, “Did you bring some clothes to sleep in?”
Andy glances at her bag, which is packed with a large selection of Miranda’s incredibly soft loungewear; pants, undershirts, thin thermals, t-shirts, warm socks. “I did, but I’m going to be here, so I’d rather be dressed.” She points to the chair.
Miranda turns her head as if to shake it “no,” when she winces. “Mm,” she grunts, and Andy steps forward nervously. “I’m all right. Just have to remember not to do that. I was going to say, no, you’ll sleep here.” She gestures to the space next to her, in the bed.
Andy swallows. “Oh, that’s so nice, Miranda, but I’m fine.”
Miranda takes a breath. “Andrea, I think we both know how we feel. It’s silly to pretend, especially after all this. Unless I’m wrong about your feelings, which I doubt I am but I’ll accept if I need to. But if not, we’ll share this bed tonight, so I’ll know where you are every moment, and I’ll have you near me, which is what I need most in the world.” She reaches for Andy’s hand and takes it firmly.
Andy stares at Miranda in amazement. She wants so desperately to believe; her first doubt is around Miranda’s concussion. Maybe she should go ask Moira if head injuries cause weird personality changes. The next doubt is that she’s misinterpreting Miranda’s words. Maybe she just means that she feels that Andy is like a daughter to her-
“Andrea,” Miranda says. “Please.”
The word causes Andy to cave instantly. “Okay,” she says, still unsure about it all. Glancing at the girls, neither of them are looking at her or Miranda, which is a small comfort. She releases Miranda’s fingers and pulls some clothes from her bag. “Would you like to change too?”
“Yes, a thousand times. But I’ll need help.”
Andy is unaccountably nervous. She hands over the softest, nicest things she brought and backs away. “I’ll get Moira to help you.” Quickly she nabs the bag and rushes from the room, her heart pounding in a staccato, uneven cadence. The nurse was around the corner, at the main desk. “Moira?” Andy calls, and the woman turns to her.
“Hi, dearie. Whatcha need?”
“Will you help Miranda change? I brought her own clothes.”
“Oh of course.”
“And one other thing,” Andy starts. “Do concussions often bring out… um, personality changes? Reduce inhibitions or anything?”
Moira frowns. “Is she acting in an unusual way?”
Andy shrugs. “I’m just curious, really. About things to look out for,” she hedges.
“It’s certainly possible. Concussion can bring on depression, tantrums, violent over-reactions. It’s hard to predict. It can also cause sensitivity to light, bad headaches, dizziness, vomiting, confusion, trouble with words--”
“Okay, okay,” Andy says, her anxiety rising at the thought of all those after-effects. “I was more worried about, well…”
“Come on, dear, tell me. It’s important if there’s potential that Miranda’s health is at risk.”
“Is this part of doctor/patient confidentiality? Even if you’re a nurse?”
“Of course,” Moira assures her. “On my granny’s grave.”
Andy decides to go for it. “Have you heard of people confessing their love out of nowhere?”
Moira’s mouth opens slightly for a moment, then closes. “Well, no, I haven’t. I have heard of inappropriate sexual behavior-if that’s happened, we’ll need to tell the doc. She didn’t make a pass at someone in front of her kids, did she?”
Andy shakes her head frantically. “No, no, it was nothing like that. Not inappropriate. Or even unwelcome,” she says, noting the way Moira’s eyebrow perks up. “Just a surprise. And the way she said it wasn’t even really out of character.” It was very matter of fact, a statement rather than a clichéd declaration of affection.
“So she confessed her love. For you, I take it,” Moira says.
Andy nods. It’s strange to tell someone she’s only known for an hour or so.
“I don’t think it’s a symptom, dear. Miranda’s suffered a terrible trauma, but survived. You both have. Isn’t it possible that Miranda just wants to embrace life for once?”
Andy considers it. It’s difficult to believe, but she wants so badly for it to be the truth. “Maybe. But anyway, you should go help her, and I’ll change in the rest room. Can you point it out to me?”
“Sure, it’s just across the hall, here,” she points. “Take your time too-if you’re going to sleep I’ll want to do a quick check on Miranda. It’s been a while and we need to look on her every two to three hours for the rest of the night. Sorry if we disturb you.”
“Not a problem.”
Andy disappears into the empty bathroom and shuts the door. Like a flash, she strips and pulls the pajamas on, unable to stop herself running her hands over the luxurious material. Then she leans against the counter, and thinks.
She tries to understand what’s happening, why Miranda is acting this way, why she is hesitant to embrace her in return.
When she gets right down to it, she’s afraid. Afraid Miranda will change her mind, or that Miranda doesn’t mean it, or that she’s brain damaged and she’ll forget this all happened tomorrow.
But… Andy loves her. She really loves her. And the thought of lying in that bed with her, holding her, keeping her safe is, as Miranda said earlier, what she needs most in the world.
Once she makes the decision, she can hardly wait to get back. But Miranda’s door is closed, and although she wants desperately to just stroll in, she waits, checking her phone for texts and looking at the news. Nothing has yet filtered out about Miranda’s miraculous story, which Andy’s pleased about. They might be able to get a few hours of sleep yet.
When Moira emerges, she gives Andy a wink. “All yours,” she quips.
Andy rolls her eyes. She prays she hasn’t made a mistake. But she forgets about that now, and joins the group. Miranda has made room on the mattress, and she looks up hopefully. Andy is still so happy to see her alive that chills flood her whole body. “Hi,” she says, shy but eager.
“Come along,” Miranda says, and Andy leaves her things next to Caroline’s cot, closest to the door.
“G’night, honey,” Andy says, kissing the girl. Her arms wrap around Andy’s neck and cling.
“Night, Andy. Thanks for taking care of us.”
“Sure, honey,” Andy replies, trying not to cry. She hugs Cassidy next, who hugs her as well, even more tightly than Caroline did. She is silent otherwise.
And then there is Miranda, who is pale and bruised, weak and exhausted. But she holds up the sheet as Andy slides beneath it. Andy reaches over and dims the light, on a fader so it’s not pitch black in the room. Andy can feel Miranda’s legs near her own; she can hardly bear the tension. Putting her fear aside, she snuggles up against Miranda’s body, shivering with pleasure. Then Miranda’s hand is at her cheek, thumb smoothing over her lips. Andy’s mouth opens while her eyes close; lips press to her forehead and Andy’s tears slide down her face as Miranda’s mouth moves across her temple, her cheeks, her nose. Andy grasps Miranda’s sleeve and the words quietly slip out: “I need you so much, Miranda. I-this morning, I never felt anything like that before-like my heart was torn out.”
“I’m here,” Miranda whispers, “I’m here.” Their lips touch, and heat streaks through Andy at the brief touch. They kiss again, and it’s perfect.
“Don’t leave me again.” Andy’s words are so soft that she can hardly hear them herself.
“I won’t,” Miranda replies with another kiss to the corner of her mouth. Andy settles back on the bed, trying to rest comfortably on her side without disturbing Miranda’s bandages or IV. As Miranda adjusts her position, Andy realizes they are a good fit, and she wraps an arm around Miranda’s waist.
She waits until Miranda’s breaths grow even. When she is asleep, Andy closes her eyes, and finally rests.
---
Part IV.
Author: chilly-flame
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything related to the Devil or Prada. Alas.
Notes: Huge thanks to my beta, Xander, who read and reread this one a lot as it evolved. Also, I’m not a medical doctor (surprise) but I do my best with research. Finally, this story is based on one of my all-time favorite tv tropes. We’re heading into melodrama territory, folks, but stay with me!
---
NOW.
Stunned into immobility, Andy has a whole conversation with Miranda, or someone who sounds like Miranda. She never realizes she is crying. Her heart is a sunburst inside her chest, and she is afraid her head will explode with all the energy coursing through her body. After she hangs up, she runs at full speed upstairs, straight into Cassidy’s room. She throws the door open so hard that the doorjamb smashes into the wall and leaves a dent.
“What!” Cassidy, or maybe Caroline shouts. Andy can’t tell, because they are both sitting up in bed, illuminated by a sliver of light and staring at her with terrified faces.
Andy turns on the bedroom light. “Listen. I want you both to pack a bag with clothes for tomorrow, and a toothbrush and whatever you’d need for a short car trip. Computer, phones, chargers. Right now.”
“Andy, are you going crazy?” one of the girls says.
Andy laughs and covers her mouth. “I might be, but I need you to do this. Right away. We’re going somewhere. I’ll leave a note for your dad.”
The one on the left, who Andy now believes is Caroline, says, “Is this about Mom?” She is starting to catch Andy’s fever, judging by the look in her eyes.
“Yes.”
The girls look at each other, and back at Andy. Cassidy asks, “Is it good?”
“It might be,” Andy hedges. She can’t be sure until she sees Miranda in the glorious, wonderful flesh. “It really might be.”
“Come on,” Cassidy says, and the two roll out of bed like a shot.
Andy bolts for Miranda’s room. She has no spare clothing of her own, but she figures Miranda won’t mind if she borrows a few things. She’ll also bring some items in case the Miranda from the phone really is Miranda. She spends less than five minutes grabbing clothes from Miranda’s closet, as well as some toiletries from the en suite bathroom. Once back in the hallway, she meets the twins, who are breathing heavily. They are still dressed in their pajamas, but they each have backpacks slung over their shoulders. Cassidy carries two pillows, while Caroline holds a teddy bear.
“Ready?” Andy asks.
“Yep,” they answer in unison.
Downstairs they race, and Andy heads for the kitchen to leave a note for Jeremy. She should call him, but he’s drunk by now and shouldn’t drive. Nor does Andy want him in the car with the kids-too much of a distraction. Instead she scrawls a note:
Got a weird phone call. Things are up in the air about the accident. The girls are with me, call when you see this. Talk to you soon, sorry for this-
Andy
She leaves her phone number at the bottom of the page. Spotting a collection of keys hanging innocently on the rack at the back door by the garden, Andy leaves the note on the kitchen table and grabs the key ring for the Audi. “Okay, so we can’t go out the front. Back up plan?”
“There’s a fire escape over the garden wall,” Caroline says. She’s already thought it through. “We should climb.”
The three of them make a break for it. In the dark, escaping silently with a bag of someone else’s things over her shoulder, someone else’s keys in hand, someone else’s kids with her, Andy feels like a thief. Without making a sound, Andy goes first, up the metal ladder to the top of the wall. When she gets there, Andy extends the half of it that reaches down into the street. She goes over easily, adrenaline pushing her on, and the kids scamper after her like they’ve done it every day of their lives. With effort she shoves the extendable half of the ladder back up so no one can use it to get into the garden. The garage is just across the alley, and in minutes, they are peeling around the corner in the A8 that Miranda favors when traveling with the kids. It’s fast, but it’s safe, and she listens closely as the GPS spits out directions. 3rd Avenue has never felt so long, but Andy is patient and joyful when she finally reaches the George Washington Bridge.
Behind her, the girls are quiet until Andy makes it to Route 17, when the GPS stops talking and Andy is on an open road. Her heart is still racing, but she is calm, because she needs to arrive in one piece to see Miranda again. She is dying to believe that it is really her-how could she have known all those details otherwise? Andy has no idea how this whole clusterfuck could have happened, but her main goal is to deliver the two girls in the backseat to Miranda as fast as possible.
“Andy, is my mom alive?” one of the girls asks timidly. It must be Caroline.
Andy hates to get their hopes up, but she can’t hold it back. “I think she might be, honey. I am really, really hoping so.”
“What happened?” That was definitely Cassidy, judging by tone.
Andy describes the phone call, and both girls listen carefully. “No one else knew I helped your mom pack the car this morning. You two didn’t even know I was at your house this morning, did you,” Andy says.
“No,” they reply together. “Joanna stayed over last night to help us get ready for school today. I didn’t see either of you,” says Cassidy.
“Right. And the voice on the phone sounded a lot like her. I mean, I may be crazy. I feel kind of crazy. I’ve felt crazy since I heard from the police this morning, but if your mom is alive, I owe it to her to be there for her. And I owe it to you two. So, we’re going. We’re almost there, in fact.”
Neither of the twins has anything else to say, so Andy turns on the radio to a classical station. When they get closer to the hospital, she never even considers pulling over to use the rest stop at County Road 38, where all their troubles began.
Liberty is a tiny, charming town. After only a few turns off the interstate Andy screeches into the medical center’s parking lot and the Audi jerks as they come to a stop in a spot. Cassidy and Caroline are laughing, and Andy’s out the door as fast as they are. It’s almost one in the morning, so the place is deserted, but anyone who gets in her way is going to be ignored or run down.
They burst into the small medical center all at once, startling the nurse at the front desk. “I’m looking for Miranda,” Andy says. “Miranda Priestly.” The woman gapes at her-they must present quite the sight. “I don’t care about visiting hours-we’re going to see her right now. Where is she?”
“Hello!” Another woman down a long hallway calls, waving her hand. She is dressed in scrubs and one of those flowery nurse smocks. “Are you Andrea?”
“Go!” Andy says, and the girls race forward.
“This way,” the woman says, and Andy follows, more slowly. She’s a little out of breath, and a lot afraid that she’s just made the biggest mistake of her life. She turns the corner and sees the girls running into a room with the nurse, and pauses. She’s unable to make another step until she hears the cries of joy--”Mom! Mom!”
Andy knows now, and she slumps against the wall, overcome. She hears the girls’ voices, only about twenty yards away, and she can barely move. She sees a tall, brawny police officer leave the room, and he’s smiling, shaking his head. Andy pushes away from the painted concrete and catches the man’s eye. “Hello,” she says.
He bobs his head and walks toward her. “Hi there. Are you Andrea?” He says it the way Miranda does.
“Yes. And you?” She holds out a hand to shake his, and he takes it.
“Officer Harris Welk. Nice to meet you.”
“So you were… talking to her? Miranda?”
With a smile, he answers drolly, “She’s a corker, that one. Even concussed out of her mind with a dozen staples in her head.”
Andy’s stomach clenches. “Staples? Oh my god. What happened?”
Officer Harris glances over his shoulder, as though realizing that he might be talking out of turn. He shrugs. “What I’ve been able to piece together with my colleagues in Broome is that your friend was at a rest stop when she was assaulted by two individuals. While I wouldn’t say they were ‘lying in wait,’ since they didn’t know she’d be there, it was definitely a crime of opportunity. They saw her car, saw her alone, assaulted her and dragged her behind the rest stop. It’s why they were able to clean up quickly-she lost most of the blood in the dirt.”
Andy feels a little faint. She takes a breath. “Blood?”
“Head wounds do it every time. Anyway, she was out for much of the morning and afternoon. No one goes behind the rest stop other than to take out the trash, and she was behind some thick bushes. She woke up, crawled out, scared the shit out of some kids and an ambulance brought her right here. The doc said she was worried for a while but she’s on the uptick now.”
“Have you been able to identify the people who stole her car?” And died, Andy thinks.
“They’ve got some ideas, but you shouldn’t concern yourself about that. Go see your friend. She’s been waiting.”
“Okay, thanks.” Andy shakes the man’s hand again. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Harris looks at his watch with a sigh. “Yep, and it’s already 1. The wife’s going to give me a dirty look when I get home. Try to get some rest yourself. You look like the walking dead, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
Andy chuckles. This man has a nice way about him; she doesn’t take it as an insult. “Good night, Officer.” The man lumbers away, and Andy looks back at the open door at the end of the hall. She finally starts to move toward it, eager to see Miranda, alive and whole for the most part. Considering how fast she moved to get here, she can’t explain her reticence, but it’s there and she needs to get the hell over it. She walks calmly and quietly down the empty corridor and doesn’t hesitate to step into the room.
To her amazement, Miranda really is there. She’s all Andy sees for a good fifteen seconds, and then the rest of the room comes into focus. The walls are cream and bare. There’s an old tv screwed into the wall on mute, and Andy recognizes the CNN logo in the corner. There are no flowers, nothing beautiful, nothing at all Andy would normally associate with Miranda. Only the beloved face that stares out at her with wide, gloriously open eyes.
“H-hi,” Andy says, trying to keep the ball of happiness in her belly from being too obvious.
Miranda has a twin under each arm, but she holds out her hand. “Andrea,” Miranda says, and the sound is so completely familiar and unexpected that Andy feels the tears start as her face crumples. She makes some kind of noise and the twins look alarmed, but Miranda soothes them and waves Andy closer. “Come here, now,” and Andy listens, as she always does. She goes right up to Miranda, and there’s room to lean forward, not really over the girls, but onto Miranda’s shoulder. She rests her head there as her body quakes, and the sobs spill out against her will. “Andrea,” Miranda says again, and Andy puts her hand to Miranda’s cheek, feeling how soft and warm it is. She smells her skin, the curve of her neck, the shell of her ear, although there is a bandage in the way of part of it. She does not smell like herself, but Andy doesn’t care, because it really is Miranda.
Andy can barely catch her breath; she has snotted up Miranda’s thin hospital gown, but she can’t stop crying. She lays her head on Miranda’s shoulder for a minute, just getting the feel of her once more. A small hand starts to pat Andy’s arm awkwardly-it’s Caroline, only a few inches away from Andy, still holding tightly to her mother.
It’s then that Andy realizes what she’s done, and her head jerks up. She covers her face with an arm to wipe her nose, and whispers, “Sorry, sorry. I just--”
“Don’t,” Miranda says, very firmly. She reaches out and draws Andy back toward her, tucking Andy’s head into the crook of her neck. “Don’t go.”
Andy melts then; her sobs quiet but the tears still fall, and she holds Miranda, and her two children along with her.
---
When Miranda watches Andrea walk into her hospital room after a protracted wait, she can hardly believe it. She can believe it even less when Andrea’s face contorts into an expression of such agony that it hurts her. Andrea emits a wounded cry, a primal sound, and stumbles forward to stand before her, head falling against Miranda’s shoulder. The girls shift to make room for her in their circle.
Miranda expected a bright smile, perhaps a friendly, marginally distant hug. She expected disbelief and excitement at this mess that’s taken place. Anything but this grief, as if Andrea is deep in mourning and has not shown it until this moment. Caroline and Cassidy each curl in more tightly, and Miranda is reminded of the pain they must have gone through today. Miranda remembers her own father’s death with perfect clarity, despite the passing of almost forty years. She is angry that her girls have had to experience this, but grateful to be able to grant them the relief of her presence now.
Andrea sobs, and reaches up blindly to touch Miranda’s face. Miranda had cried when the girls ran to her and hugged her; she cries again now as Andrea caresses her skin with breathtaking tenderness. She feels Andrea’s tears seep through her gown, feels her damp lips ghost along her throat. She is more surrounded by love in this moment than she has been in her whole life, and she has never been more grateful to be alive.
When Andrea pulls away, Miranda draws her back, because she needs this. Andrea returns and embraces her and Cassidy and Caroline sweetly. Miranda covets the feel of her, the scent of her. She’s wearing Chanel No. 5, which tugs at Miranda’s brain with its familiarity. It’s like being home, and Miranda closes her eyes.
She’s not sure how long they stay wrapped up together, but it’s a while. When Andrea finally steps back, her face is blotchy and wet. There is mascara smeared under her eyes. She is lovely, even weeping. “Hi, Miranda. I’m glad to see you.”
Miranda smiles very slightly. “And I you.”
Andy glances at the bandage that winds around Miranda’s whole head. “You’re all right?”
“I suppose,” Miranda says, not making a move to touch her head, which still feels too big for her skull. She has swelling and pain, but this is nothing compared to what she felt earlier in the day when she first woke. “I’ve been worse. Better too, but in the scheme of things, I’m excellent.”
Andrea gasps at the words. “Oh shit, that’s right. You’re supposed to be dead, and I didn’t tell anyone you called. I wanted to get here before the press, and we just took off. I left a note for Jeremy. I hope he’s not freaking out.” She rummages in the large bag she has over one shoulder. “No messages. I should call. Better me than you, I think. And then I guess I’ll start with Leslie. And Nigel.”
Andrea dials, and Jeremy picks up right away--Miranda can hear his voice booming through the tiny speaker from five feet away. “Jeremy, listen, sit down.” Andrea covers the microphone and whispers, “He’s had a lot of scotch.” Miranda rolls her eyes. “Listen, the girls are with me, and I just drove up north to a town called Liberty. Listen, are you ready?” She pauses. “No, listen. Miranda is alive. I’m looking right at her. I needed to come here and confirm it before I started spreading the word.” There’s a stretch of silence when Jeremy shouts some more, and Miranda holds her hand out for the phone.
“Jeremy,” she says.
That stops his tirade. “Hello?”
“Hello, Jeremy. I’m alive. I was assaulted and my car stolen. You can confirm the details here with the police, but for now, I’m in the hospital. Andrea brought the girls here at my request, and I apologize for not reaching you earlier. I tried your home, but I couldn’t recall your cell number. My phone was destroyed in the accident today.”
He starts to cry, and again, Miranda finds herself tearful. He tells her how devastated he was to lose her, how much he regrets so many things, how he still loves her deep down and always will. These are words he wouldn’t be saying if he was sober, but still, it’s nice to hear the outpouring of affection. “I love you, Jeremy. But you should really rest. You sound…” She glances at Cassidy, who mouths the word loaded. “Like you need to get some sleep. Come up tomorrow. I’ll be here. We all will.”
“Okay, Miranda,” he says, slurring. “I’ll get details from Andy tomorrow.” He stops briefly, and asks, “Is this real?”
“Yes, Jeremy. It’s real. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”
“Okay, love you, ‘Randa.”
“Yes, yes, goodbye.”
She hangs up. “Leslie next.” Andrea dials, and to her surprise, Leslie picks up right away as well. Andrea gives her the speech, sit down, there is news, Miranda is alive, and Leslie’s response is far less melancholy than Jeremy’s, and much happier. It’s a pleasant change. She’s actually cheerful and excited to drive up to Liberty in the morning, and when she speaks to Miranda, she is very sweet.
“You know, kid, I didn’t think anything could take you down,” Leslie tells her. “I’m glad to know I was right.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Miranda says, touching her bandage. “But I survived.”
Nigel is next. Andrea dials and leaves a message to call her back immediately. She hesitates to leave the news over the phone, and Miranda agrees, mouthing for her to hang up. She does, and a moment later the phone rings in her hand. “It’s him.” She glances at the door anxiously, at the same time Miranda recalls the “no cell phones in the hospital rule.” They will keep it quick.
Andrea begins carefully. “I’m just going to say this fast and put you out of your misery, Nige-Miranda is alive.” Andrea listens for a moment, and replies, “No, I swear to god. You know I wouldn’t joke about this. Never. I’m with her now. She got assaulted and some asshole,” she grimaces, glancing at the girls, “smashed up the car. She’s in a medical center up north. I just got here and the twins are with me. I called Leslie and I’m going to let her handle everything, but Nigel, you should really-well, here.” Andrea hands the phone over.
Miranda holds it to her ear. “Hello, Nigel.”
“Goddamn, Miranda. Goddamn.” He doesn’t say anything for a solid minute, but she can hear the sounds coming over the line. She hasn’t cried this much for decades, but when one is mistaken for dead, one should be given a little leeway. “I’m glad as fucking hell you’re alive,” he manages.
“Me too, darling,” she says, sniffling.
“When can I see you? This day has been for shit, everything just blew up. And I don’t mean professionally, Miranda. We haven’t always agreed on everything over the years but you’re my best friend and I missed you like crazy even for just a single day.”
Miranda’s heart feels light, and she smiles at Andrea, who gazes back beatifically. “Soon as you can. We’ve disregarded the notion of visiting hours.”
“We’ll come early. In a few hours. Emily’s asleep on my sofa, let me get her.”
“Yes, of course.”
Miranda waits, and is rewarded by the sound of a groggy Emily saying, “Who the bloody hell is this, calling in the middle of the night on the worst bloody day of my sodding life?”
“Emily, this is Miranda.”
There is no reply, followed by a noisy squawk; Andrea did have the right idea of warning people first. Poor Emily. She shouts a succession of Oh my gods before she manages to form coherent, albeit brief sentences. “You’re alive! And you’re all right?”
“I’m in the hospital, Nigel will explain. But I’m here. And I’ve no intention of going anywhere, so you won’t be able to orchestrate the coup I’m sure you’ve planned to become the second youngest Editor in Chief Runway has ever seen.”
Emily sighs. “Oh Miranda. I am so happy. I-don’t know what to say. Welcome back.”
Miranda smiles at this. “Come with Nigel. And leave work at home, will you? Have Nigel deal with everything.”
“Of course, Miranda. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodbye.”
“Bye.” Before Miranda hangs up, she hears a whoop of joy on the other end of the line. It’s the two of them, and they are as happy as Emily said she was. Andrea hears it too, and she grins.
“Is that enough for now?” she asks.
“Yes, I think so. Tomorrow we’ll have to figure out what’s next, but I’m tired, and the girls are too, aren’t you Bobbseys?” They nod. “And you…” Andrea looks terrible, pale and fatigued. “You need rest.”
Andrea nods, to Miranda’s surprise. “I do. Let me go see the nurse about some cots for the girls.” And she’s gone, although a few seconds later, she pokes her head back into the room. “Just checking.”
---
Andy spends five minutes helping the nurse, whose name is Moira, get cots out of storage for the kids. There are only two available; Moira promises that they’ll move Miranda’s still sleeping roommate out the following morning and leave an empty bed there for anyone who needs rest. They dress the cots with clean sheets and orderlies haul them to either side of Miranda’s bed. Andy has decided to take the chair in the corner, and she’s quite sure that she will fall asleep exactly thirty seconds after she sits.
She helps the girls get changed and settled under the covers. She glances back at Miranda, who asks, “Did you bring some clothes to sleep in?”
Andy glances at her bag, which is packed with a large selection of Miranda’s incredibly soft loungewear; pants, undershirts, thin thermals, t-shirts, warm socks. “I did, but I’m going to be here, so I’d rather be dressed.” She points to the chair.
Miranda turns her head as if to shake it “no,” when she winces. “Mm,” she grunts, and Andy steps forward nervously. “I’m all right. Just have to remember not to do that. I was going to say, no, you’ll sleep here.” She gestures to the space next to her, in the bed.
Andy swallows. “Oh, that’s so nice, Miranda, but I’m fine.”
Miranda takes a breath. “Andrea, I think we both know how we feel. It’s silly to pretend, especially after all this. Unless I’m wrong about your feelings, which I doubt I am but I’ll accept if I need to. But if not, we’ll share this bed tonight, so I’ll know where you are every moment, and I’ll have you near me, which is what I need most in the world.” She reaches for Andy’s hand and takes it firmly.
Andy stares at Miranda in amazement. She wants so desperately to believe; her first doubt is around Miranda’s concussion. Maybe she should go ask Moira if head injuries cause weird personality changes. The next doubt is that she’s misinterpreting Miranda’s words. Maybe she just means that she feels that Andy is like a daughter to her-
“Andrea,” Miranda says. “Please.”
The word causes Andy to cave instantly. “Okay,” she says, still unsure about it all. Glancing at the girls, neither of them are looking at her or Miranda, which is a small comfort. She releases Miranda’s fingers and pulls some clothes from her bag. “Would you like to change too?”
“Yes, a thousand times. But I’ll need help.”
Andy is unaccountably nervous. She hands over the softest, nicest things she brought and backs away. “I’ll get Moira to help you.” Quickly she nabs the bag and rushes from the room, her heart pounding in a staccato, uneven cadence. The nurse was around the corner, at the main desk. “Moira?” Andy calls, and the woman turns to her.
“Hi, dearie. Whatcha need?”
“Will you help Miranda change? I brought her own clothes.”
“Oh of course.”
“And one other thing,” Andy starts. “Do concussions often bring out… um, personality changes? Reduce inhibitions or anything?”
Moira frowns. “Is she acting in an unusual way?”
Andy shrugs. “I’m just curious, really. About things to look out for,” she hedges.
“It’s certainly possible. Concussion can bring on depression, tantrums, violent over-reactions. It’s hard to predict. It can also cause sensitivity to light, bad headaches, dizziness, vomiting, confusion, trouble with words--”
“Okay, okay,” Andy says, her anxiety rising at the thought of all those after-effects. “I was more worried about, well…”
“Come on, dear, tell me. It’s important if there’s potential that Miranda’s health is at risk.”
“Is this part of doctor/patient confidentiality? Even if you’re a nurse?”
“Of course,” Moira assures her. “On my granny’s grave.”
Andy decides to go for it. “Have you heard of people confessing their love out of nowhere?”
Moira’s mouth opens slightly for a moment, then closes. “Well, no, I haven’t. I have heard of inappropriate sexual behavior-if that’s happened, we’ll need to tell the doc. She didn’t make a pass at someone in front of her kids, did she?”
Andy shakes her head frantically. “No, no, it was nothing like that. Not inappropriate. Or even unwelcome,” she says, noting the way Moira’s eyebrow perks up. “Just a surprise. And the way she said it wasn’t even really out of character.” It was very matter of fact, a statement rather than a clichéd declaration of affection.
“So she confessed her love. For you, I take it,” Moira says.
Andy nods. It’s strange to tell someone she’s only known for an hour or so.
“I don’t think it’s a symptom, dear. Miranda’s suffered a terrible trauma, but survived. You both have. Isn’t it possible that Miranda just wants to embrace life for once?”
Andy considers it. It’s difficult to believe, but she wants so badly for it to be the truth. “Maybe. But anyway, you should go help her, and I’ll change in the rest room. Can you point it out to me?”
“Sure, it’s just across the hall, here,” she points. “Take your time too-if you’re going to sleep I’ll want to do a quick check on Miranda. It’s been a while and we need to look on her every two to three hours for the rest of the night. Sorry if we disturb you.”
“Not a problem.”
Andy disappears into the empty bathroom and shuts the door. Like a flash, she strips and pulls the pajamas on, unable to stop herself running her hands over the luxurious material. Then she leans against the counter, and thinks.
She tries to understand what’s happening, why Miranda is acting this way, why she is hesitant to embrace her in return.
When she gets right down to it, she’s afraid. Afraid Miranda will change her mind, or that Miranda doesn’t mean it, or that she’s brain damaged and she’ll forget this all happened tomorrow.
But… Andy loves her. She really loves her. And the thought of lying in that bed with her, holding her, keeping her safe is, as Miranda said earlier, what she needs most in the world.
Once she makes the decision, she can hardly wait to get back. But Miranda’s door is closed, and although she wants desperately to just stroll in, she waits, checking her phone for texts and looking at the news. Nothing has yet filtered out about Miranda’s miraculous story, which Andy’s pleased about. They might be able to get a few hours of sleep yet.
When Moira emerges, she gives Andy a wink. “All yours,” she quips.
Andy rolls her eyes. She prays she hasn’t made a mistake. But she forgets about that now, and joins the group. Miranda has made room on the mattress, and she looks up hopefully. Andy is still so happy to see her alive that chills flood her whole body. “Hi,” she says, shy but eager.
“Come along,” Miranda says, and Andy leaves her things next to Caroline’s cot, closest to the door.
“G’night, honey,” Andy says, kissing the girl. Her arms wrap around Andy’s neck and cling.
“Night, Andy. Thanks for taking care of us.”
“Sure, honey,” Andy replies, trying not to cry. She hugs Cassidy next, who hugs her as well, even more tightly than Caroline did. She is silent otherwise.
And then there is Miranda, who is pale and bruised, weak and exhausted. But she holds up the sheet as Andy slides beneath it. Andy reaches over and dims the light, on a fader so it’s not pitch black in the room. Andy can feel Miranda’s legs near her own; she can hardly bear the tension. Putting her fear aside, she snuggles up against Miranda’s body, shivering with pleasure. Then Miranda’s hand is at her cheek, thumb smoothing over her lips. Andy’s mouth opens while her eyes close; lips press to her forehead and Andy’s tears slide down her face as Miranda’s mouth moves across her temple, her cheeks, her nose. Andy grasps Miranda’s sleeve and the words quietly slip out: “I need you so much, Miranda. I-this morning, I never felt anything like that before-like my heart was torn out.”
“I’m here,” Miranda whispers, “I’m here.” Their lips touch, and heat streaks through Andy at the brief touch. They kiss again, and it’s perfect.
“Don’t leave me again.” Andy’s words are so soft that she can hardly hear them herself.
“I won’t,” Miranda replies with another kiss to the corner of her mouth. Andy settles back on the bed, trying to rest comfortably on her side without disturbing Miranda’s bandages or IV. As Miranda adjusts her position, Andy realizes they are a good fit, and she wraps an arm around Miranda’s waist.
She waits until Miranda’s breaths grow even. When she is asleep, Andy closes her eyes, and finally rests.
---
Part IV.