Chapter 38: A Flawed Fragility
Author: TheLadyHoll
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Rating: M
Disclaimer: Yes, they are mine. I own them. Come to me my pretties and dance, DANCE I SAY. Or, more truthfully, not...
Tis the season of final essays & writer's block is blooming on all fronts! Still have a ton left for this story...only there's a rather large gap between here & the other 10,000 words I have written as of yet. But stay with me, your support is SO appreciated :) _
Andy worked out of Miranda's hospital room for the remainder of the week, only going home to sleep. If the twins hadn't been home from their father's Andrea wasn't sure she would have left at all, even with the combined efforts of Dr. Jansen and Miranda to get her to leave the hospital. The biggest fight of all had come when Andy had announced she had taken herself off of the assignment that would have had her leaving for the Middle East the week Miranda was tentatively scheduled to resume some of her duties at Runway.
"Absolutely not." Miranda's voice was as cold and imperious as anyone had heard it as she gave the decree from the hospital bed. "Andrea, you are going on this trip and you are writing this story."
"How do you expect me to leave you? To fly thousands of miles away into a war-torn country while my wife who is pregnant with twins is in critical condition?" Andy had all but shrieked, causing Miranda to wince slightly at the screeching tones but who otherwise remained frustratingly unperturbed.
"High-risk, Andrea, not critical condition. I will follow Dr. Jansen's order for bedrest and a restricted," here Miranda grimaced slightly, "schedule that will ensure the continued development of the babies so that their condition is not exacerbated by any activities deemed unsuitable by the good doctor." Miranda's voice remained sarcastic, but the tenderness with which her hands moved over her stomach as she spoke reassured Andy in ways the older woman's words could not.
"I won't take this away from you, and I will not let you give it up. This opportunity is too important for your career, Andrea"."
"But my career is worth nothing if I don't have my family to share it with and come home to."
"And you will…We'll be right here waiting for you. All of us, as a family. Whether you like it or not, Andrea, this trip couldn't be coming at a better time."
"What. Could. You. Possibly. Mean. By. That?" Andy spoke through gritted teeth, willing herself not to tear out her hair in frustration at the absurdity of the other woman's words.
"I love you," Miranda responded, and although her heart leaped at the now familiar endearment, Andy caught something else in her tone. "Deeply. But," she took a breath. "We both know that I will be less than tolerant or good natured about this forced incapacitation, and that you would feel the need to watch over me and hover 24 hours out of the day, which would drive both of us to insanity. This way I can be as much of a bitch as I like while you're gone without worrying I'll snap at you as the most available target for my inevitable frustration, and you will have something else to occupy your mind instead of counting my breaths and measuring the circumference of my ankles."
"But if something were to happen."
"Then it would have happened regardless of your presence or in spite of it…Do you trust me, Andrea, to do what is right for our children?"
"I, of course I do. Look at the amazing job you've done with Caroline and Cassidy, Miranda. How could I ever doubt you as a mother?"
"Unfortunately, it would be all too easy. But know, Andrea, that I will do everything in my power to give the babies their best chance at coming into this world healthy. You must trust me to do at least that much, otherwise why would you have agreed to marry someone you thought would act otherwise?"
"I hate it when you do that," Andy grumbled, curling up beside Miranda on the bed and reaching out her hand to lay overtop of the babies.
Miranda smirked slightly, letting her own head fall forwards to rest on the brunette's temple. "But you love me."
"Lord knows why but I do," Andy teased, laughing even as she stole a kiss from lips that were quickly forming an adorable pouty moue. "Now let's figure out what we need to do so I can take the love of my life home."
"Acceptable."
Miranda was true to her word. Apart from having Nigel, Emily and Serena turn the care suite into a makeshift Runway for a day's worth of preparatory meetings, Miranda handed over what was essentially the sum total of the magazine to the trio, guiding them through the next prospective two weeks and outlining the divisions of labour.
Consequently, Andy was able to re-instate herself as the lead for the Tel Aviv and Iran junkets with no small amount of apologizing to her boss for her 'erratic' behaviour as of late. She couldn't tell if Greg really did believe her or whether her good fortune at not having lost the opportunity came more from Miranda's influence - afar as it may be, or at least the threat of her influence in the publishing world.
At the moment, however, Miranda didn't look a threat to anyone, except perhaps to herself. Dr. Jansen had finally deemed the level of risk for further pre-eclamptic symptoms low enough to allow Miranda to leave the hospital under the strict proviso and expectation that she would comply with total bedrest before resuming work but altering her schedule drastically to minimize stress or any situations that might put her in a hypertensive state.
But now, instead of her usual clipped gait her walk was slow, her movements cautious even as she eschewed help from the nurses getting into the wheelchair.
"Hey, we're going to do everything we can to make sure the next time you're in one of these things it's because we're taking two healthy babies home, okay?" Andy crouched down in front of the chair, hating the expertly concealed veil of humiliated tears she knew Miranda was hiding behind her haughty outwards expression.
Miranda simply nodded once, decisively, before looking away again, willing herself not to break, again, as the younger woman hit the nail on the head as to what she was thinking and feeling.
About ten steps from the front doors, Miranda put out a hand to stop the group's progress. The popping and flashing lights that waited just outside the revolving doors were indication enough of what the problem was as Miranda turned to Dr. Jansen who had taken it upon herself to escort the pair out personally rather than have one of the nurse's aides assist as would be the usual protocol.
Without missing a beat, Dr. Jansen nodded her approval to Miranda's silent question and the editor took Andrea's arm to help her stand, not wanting to give the press the satisfaction or the juicy shot of THE Miranda Priestly in a wheelchair. "I need no further reminder of the ramifications of my age," Miranda spoke in a low tone as she manoeuvred her body out of the chair as elegantly as possible. She smoothed back her hair and straightened her shoulders - adopting the air and attitude of the regal stature that had afforded her the moniker of the Queen of Fashion even without the trademark 4 inch heels that lent her petite frame a significant increase in presence. The question of Miranda wearing any sort of heel to leave the hospital had been met with an unequivocal 'No' from Dr. Jansen, however, and Miranda had been forced to admit in the privacy of her own mind that it was almost a relief to have been 'forbidden' from wearing her signature pumps. Otherwise she might have yielded to the pressure of public opinion and the expectations of her 'followers' as Andrea called them as well as the press. Truthfully, she still felt disconcertingly weak and unsteady on her feet even wearing the plain Tory Burch flats she was currently sporting. It gnawed at her endlessly that her 'call' may have been closer than she thought if after a week of rest and care in-hospital, she still felt this awful.
Homecoming was not the seamless transition either woman had hoped it would be. Once they had arrived at the townhouse, more press were waiting for them, as jawing and bloodthirsty as had been at NYP. Upon seeing the throng, Miranda's lips thinned and her she looked pointedly downwards and to the side as she spoke.
"Roy, you will provide a barrier between ourselves and the press as we enter the townhouse, then you may continue inside and assist as Andrea has requested," she ordered in a low tone that brooked no argument from the older man, and not meeting Andrea's gaze which burned white hot with rage at the sudden change in plans.
"As Andrea requested? I believe you'll find Andrea requested his assistance wherever there might be stairs you're unable to climb. You don't mean to tell me you could possibly be so fool headed as to try and climb those steps, flats or no, one week after you nearly bled to death, miscarrying at 7 months pregnant?
Miranda winced nearly imperceptibly, and it wasn't merely due to the shrill tones Andrea's voice had taken on as she voiced her disbelief. She was well aware of the fragile state of her pregnancy and the tenuous hold of the two lives in her belly. Even now, the incision throbbed painfully from the movement and motion of getting from the wheelchair to the car. But short of developing the power of levitation, as was currently being narrated to her belly by Caroline and Cassidy as they introduced the babies to the world of Harry Potter, there was no way to access the townhouse other than by those seven steps. The thought of Page Six emblazoned with pictures of the Ice Queen being carried into her own home was unthinkable. Within the privacy of the townhouse and around the people she trusted, she could, with difficulty, swallow her pride and quash her vanity, but she could not, could not show that kind of weakness in front of the press - to an even greater extent than had taken place at the hospital with the wheelchair. They would eat her alive - the Dragon Lady brought down low, conquered by her own weak and aging body.
Although outwardly her expression remained cool and passive, Miranda's stomach began to ache on the inside as well as the outside at the betrayed look on the brunette's face as she sat across from her.
Exhausted, and sick, and terrified of watching another relationship fail as a result of her own foolish pride, Miranda's cool broke.
Lurching forward to grab the younger woman's wrist in case she decided to run, Miranda's fingers wrapped around the slender wrist with an almost bruising pressure, which was enough to snap the journalist out of her funk of self-righteous indignation as she met stormy blue eyes that held hers inexorably, desperately trying to convey what her lips could not and the sincerity of her next words.
"Please," the foreign word slipped from Miranda's tongue and caught in her breath as she prepared to beg the other woman to stay. "Andrea, please I…I can't, I'm sorry…I" she trailed off, closing her eyes and shaking her head lightly in frustration at her inability to express herself in the manner she wished, feeling the panic bubble up in her chest and trapping her between two impossible situations.
Brown eyes cleared and then muddied again as they glanced briefly out of the car window before moving back to their linked hands. Andy gently untangled her wrist from Miranda's hold and brought her left hand to her lips so that her lips brushed the older woman's ring finger and the glittering stone that she wanted Miranda to remember held so many promises for their future.
"I know."
Andy exhaled harshly and shut her eyes, flopping back against the seat briefly before sitting up again, trying to get her anger under control. But it wasn't anger at Miranda. "I hate them!" she spat contemptuously, glaring over Miranda's shoulder but unwilling to let any angry tears escape her eyes as she shook with rage at the sight of the waiting horde. "I hate that they can make you do this, that they can hurt you like this."
"Come," Miranda gripped Andy's hand firmly. "The girls will be waiting, perhaps if we're fortunate, I'll be able to make it up the stairs in time to avoid any missiles or homemade projectiles being lobbed in the press's direction by my darling offspring."
Miranda succeeded in drawing a chuckle from the younger woman who snorted, knowing the pair would have something lying in wait for the unlucky group outside.
Andy stepped out of the car first so that upon exiting the vehicle, Miranda was flanked on both sides by either her or Roy. The three then made their way across the sidewalk to the front gate and the townhouse stairs where Roy fell back behind them, ready to keep any interlopers at bay with a stone cold stare and solid stance.
Miranda's legs felt as though they were made of lead, although she appeared outwardly to move with a slow but unaffected grace. Keeping one arm linked with Andrea's and held across her belly protectively, Miranda's right hand gripped the iron rail so tightly it was nearly bloodless as she tried to leverage the majority of her weight against the bannister. She was hopelessly grateful for the solid measure of comfort of Andrea's arm around her waist, ready to stable her if her step faltered. She knew Andrea wouldn't let her fall.
As one would expect, having not seen their mother in days, Caroline and Cassidy were waiting inside the door for the two women. But Andy and Miranda's arms were met with thin air rather than warm bodies as two redheaded whirlwinds barreled past them, using Roy as a shield and lobbing what appeared to be strangely shaped, sopping paper mache shapes into the crowd of press which then burst with a series of wet splatters and expletive-laden yelps of surprise as the targets found their equally slippery marks.
"Girls! Inside this instant!" Miranda commanded. Cassidy looked torn for a long moment as she looked at the remaining grey projectile before dropping it with a sullen thud at her feet and following her sister back into the townhouse.
"Roy, if you please?" Miranda added, seeing the older man was uncertain of where exactly he should be or who he was supposed to be protecting. As Miranda turned away from the door however, he caught Andy's eye with a quickly hidden glint before casually turning on his heel, catching his toe in the process which sent the last 'bomb' flying into the closest group of paparazzi, scattering them as it exploded in a mass of what appeared to be green paint and oatmeal.
Straightening his tie slightly, Roy stepped through the front door into the foyer, leaving Andy to close the door behind the straight-faced man as she bit her own lip until she tasted blood to stop herself from grinning.
That smile was quickly wiped off her face though as she turned around to see Miranda next to the stairs as she'd expected, but gripping the bannister so tightly her knuckles had gone bloodless, a faint sweat broken out at her hairline and looking as though she were going to be ill at any moment.
"Damn," Andy cursed silently as her gaze darted from Miranda to Roy and the girls trying to best figure out how to approach the situation.
"Girls, can you go find Cara and make sure she has a copy of the grocery list of the foods your mom is supposed to be eating as well as the phone number for the nurse and home care consultant?"
Both girls looked dubiously at Andy and then at their mother. "Mom are you okay?" Caroline pulled gently at Miranda's hand until the older woman's glazed expression broke.
"Yes Bobbsey, I'm fine. Mommy's just very tired and looking forward to sleeping in her own bed. Now run along darling, I'll be fine, I" Andy could tell the next words out of her mouth were meant to be 'I promise', but Andrea's reaction as well as her own to that statement in the past stopped her short of making the same mistake with her daughter.
"Andrea and the nurse and Dr. Jansen are going to take very good care of me and do everything they can to make sure the babies are safe, I promise. Perhaps tomorrow after school you can continue with Harry Potter."
Once the small footfalls had died away, Miranda dropped the pretence of normalcy and a haggard exhaustion could be seen written across her features as she leaned into Andrea, willing her head to stop spinning as she rested it against the younger woman's chest.
"Roy," Andy spoke quietly, not moving her eyes from the woman in her arms as the older man moved closer and lifted Miranda up with bearlike arms, ascending to the second floor and down the hallway into their bedroom.
Andy led him over to the chaise near the vanity, knowing Miranda wouldn't want to have anything touch the bed or comforter that had been 'tainted' by the hospital.
Equal parts nausea and embarrassment had caused Miranda to shut her eyes tightly for the duration of the short trip, but she opened them upon being set down, glancing down at her belly and her hand pressed over the incision site before reaching for Roy's hand, surprising the man past words.
"Thank you," her eyes not meeting his as they looked determinedly anywhere but at him, the sentiment was still one of the most genuine Roy had ever heard from the woman he had worked for over the last ten years and he covered the smaller hand with his own, squeezing tightly before letting go and watching it return to the greatly diminished lap of the editor.
"Ladies, if you need me."
"Thanks Roy, I'll walk you out. You stay put!" Andy warned teasingly as she left the bedroom and Miranda sitting silently for the three minutes it took to walk the older man to the door and thank him for his efforts that day.
"Good luck, Andy. Take care of her," Roy's gaze flicked back up the stairs briefly before he nodded at the brunette and headed back out into the now thinning throng of reporters, his lips quirking up at the corners briefly as he stepped over the remnants of the homemade oatmeal bomb that covered part of the sidewalk and were apparent on some of the clothing and equipment of the photographers.
"Darling would you start the bath and make it extra hot?" Miranda grimaced as she placed a hand at the small of her back, trying to work out the ache that had settled there.
"Miranda, you're not supposed to be using hot water and raising your temperature and your stitches can't get wet for another few days until your incision is healed enough for them to dissolve, remember?"
Miranda's nostrils flared although she held her tongue, the next words out of her mouth had an ascerbic tinge however that couldn't be masked. "Fine, if you would so kindly assist me in getting out of these clothes and find the waterproof bandages I shall attempt to scrub the medical pong from my skin in a lukewarm shower. Does that sound reasonable?" she all but hissed as she straightened up and began to stand.
"Miranda, it's not a big deal, just let me help you."
"I'm being treated like a child! I have been bathing myself since the age of four, I believe 46 years of experience is sufficient to prove I don't need supervision."
Although it was a minor thing, Andy could see in the editor's face that for her, it was a very big deal and a source of humiliation, so she switched tactics, hoping to throw the older woman off enough for her to snap out of whatever funk she was in. And God help her if this didn't work, because if it didn't she was fucked - or rather, would not be getting fucked for the foreseeable future.
Slipping one shoulder out of the Chloe blouse she was wearing, Andy's downcast eyes quickly flipped up to meet Miranda's in a soulful puppy dog pout. Miranda's gaze met her own quickly before it was drawn back down to the second shoulder of couture being peeled away from the body beneath it until it slipped away completely - the diaphanous fabric, still warm from Andrea's body, fluttering to the floor. Now Miranda was faced, quite literally, with the white and pink confectionery of the La Perla plunge bra that eked out just past the brunette's equally pink nipples in a tempting froth of lace. Then it too was gone, revealing a prize much greater than the layers of couture that had recently covered it. No fabric could compare to the softness and silkenness of Andrea's skin and the full breasts she now cupped with her hands, akin an offering to the gods.
Miranda's breath caught as the dual peaks stiffened and bloomed with colour as Andy's thumbs brushed over them, teasing herself and both women as she gave a breathy little sigh of pleasure.
Mine! Miranda thought possessively, immediately wanting - no, needing, to replace Andrea's hands with her own, or better yet, her mouth.
"I know you're not a child, Miranda," the voice that broke through her hearing was low and throaty and full of purpose as its owner stepped even closer before lightening as Andy took Miranda's already partially outstretched hand and traced the woman's fingers down the slope of her breast and down her abdomen. "But don't you want to take a bath with me? The voice was gently pouting in tone, gasping when Miranda came to her senses and squeezed the pale mound until both swells rose up and down in time with Andrea's gasps of pleasure. "I'll even be your bath toy."
"Damn you." That did it, now the older woman quickly divested the younger of the rest of her clothing until the brunette stood in front of her, completely naked save for a wicked grin.
"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," Miranda warned as she bit the younger woman's neck and causing her to shiver despite the steamy water.
"It's what I plan on doing for the rest of my life…" Andy replied, "I'm loving you."
They weren't able, of course, to complete their lovemaking. It had only been 9 days since Miranda's heart stopped beating and Andy had almost lost her reason for being. But it had accomplished what Andy had intended when she first set out to appease the older woman's anger at the situation.
In comparison to the stiff and frozen version of Miranda Andy had been dealing with an hour before, this Miranda now was warm and flushed and drowsy, already fading as Andrea helped her dry her hair and changed the dressing over her incision and get into a fresh set of pajamas. She had actually sighed, seemingly in contentment, as Andy had helped her into a comfortable position on the bed and pulled the covers over her before stealing a kiss from lips that were already pursed in sleep.
"Goodnight, my love."
Drop me a line? XOXO - TLH
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Rating: M
Disclaimer: Yes, they are mine. I own them. Come to me my pretties and dance, DANCE I SAY. Or, more truthfully, not...
Tis the season of final essays & writer's block is blooming on all fronts! Still have a ton left for this story...only there's a rather large gap between here & the other 10,000 words I have written as of yet. But stay with me, your support is SO appreciated :) _
Andy worked out of Miranda's hospital room for the remainder of the week, only going home to sleep. If the twins hadn't been home from their father's Andrea wasn't sure she would have left at all, even with the combined efforts of Dr. Jansen and Miranda to get her to leave the hospital. The biggest fight of all had come when Andy had announced she had taken herself off of the assignment that would have had her leaving for the Middle East the week Miranda was tentatively scheduled to resume some of her duties at Runway.
"Absolutely not." Miranda's voice was as cold and imperious as anyone had heard it as she gave the decree from the hospital bed. "Andrea, you are going on this trip and you are writing this story."
"How do you expect me to leave you? To fly thousands of miles away into a war-torn country while my wife who is pregnant with twins is in critical condition?" Andy had all but shrieked, causing Miranda to wince slightly at the screeching tones but who otherwise remained frustratingly unperturbed.
"High-risk, Andrea, not critical condition. I will follow Dr. Jansen's order for bedrest and a restricted," here Miranda grimaced slightly, "schedule that will ensure the continued development of the babies so that their condition is not exacerbated by any activities deemed unsuitable by the good doctor." Miranda's voice remained sarcastic, but the tenderness with which her hands moved over her stomach as she spoke reassured Andy in ways the older woman's words could not.
"I won't take this away from you, and I will not let you give it up. This opportunity is too important for your career, Andrea"."
"But my career is worth nothing if I don't have my family to share it with and come home to."
"And you will…We'll be right here waiting for you. All of us, as a family. Whether you like it or not, Andrea, this trip couldn't be coming at a better time."
"What. Could. You. Possibly. Mean. By. That?" Andy spoke through gritted teeth, willing herself not to tear out her hair in frustration at the absurdity of the other woman's words.
"I love you," Miranda responded, and although her heart leaped at the now familiar endearment, Andy caught something else in her tone. "Deeply. But," she took a breath. "We both know that I will be less than tolerant or good natured about this forced incapacitation, and that you would feel the need to watch over me and hover 24 hours out of the day, which would drive both of us to insanity. This way I can be as much of a bitch as I like while you're gone without worrying I'll snap at you as the most available target for my inevitable frustration, and you will have something else to occupy your mind instead of counting my breaths and measuring the circumference of my ankles."
"But if something were to happen."
"Then it would have happened regardless of your presence or in spite of it…Do you trust me, Andrea, to do what is right for our children?"
"I, of course I do. Look at the amazing job you've done with Caroline and Cassidy, Miranda. How could I ever doubt you as a mother?"
"Unfortunately, it would be all too easy. But know, Andrea, that I will do everything in my power to give the babies their best chance at coming into this world healthy. You must trust me to do at least that much, otherwise why would you have agreed to marry someone you thought would act otherwise?"
"I hate it when you do that," Andy grumbled, curling up beside Miranda on the bed and reaching out her hand to lay overtop of the babies.
Miranda smirked slightly, letting her own head fall forwards to rest on the brunette's temple. "But you love me."
"Lord knows why but I do," Andy teased, laughing even as she stole a kiss from lips that were quickly forming an adorable pouty moue. "Now let's figure out what we need to do so I can take the love of my life home."
"Acceptable."
Miranda was true to her word. Apart from having Nigel, Emily and Serena turn the care suite into a makeshift Runway for a day's worth of preparatory meetings, Miranda handed over what was essentially the sum total of the magazine to the trio, guiding them through the next prospective two weeks and outlining the divisions of labour.
Consequently, Andy was able to re-instate herself as the lead for the Tel Aviv and Iran junkets with no small amount of apologizing to her boss for her 'erratic' behaviour as of late. She couldn't tell if Greg really did believe her or whether her good fortune at not having lost the opportunity came more from Miranda's influence - afar as it may be, or at least the threat of her influence in the publishing world.
At the moment, however, Miranda didn't look a threat to anyone, except perhaps to herself. Dr. Jansen had finally deemed the level of risk for further pre-eclamptic symptoms low enough to allow Miranda to leave the hospital under the strict proviso and expectation that she would comply with total bedrest before resuming work but altering her schedule drastically to minimize stress or any situations that might put her in a hypertensive state.
But now, instead of her usual clipped gait her walk was slow, her movements cautious even as she eschewed help from the nurses getting into the wheelchair.
"Hey, we're going to do everything we can to make sure the next time you're in one of these things it's because we're taking two healthy babies home, okay?" Andy crouched down in front of the chair, hating the expertly concealed veil of humiliated tears she knew Miranda was hiding behind her haughty outwards expression.
Miranda simply nodded once, decisively, before looking away again, willing herself not to break, again, as the younger woman hit the nail on the head as to what she was thinking and feeling.
About ten steps from the front doors, Miranda put out a hand to stop the group's progress. The popping and flashing lights that waited just outside the revolving doors were indication enough of what the problem was as Miranda turned to Dr. Jansen who had taken it upon herself to escort the pair out personally rather than have one of the nurse's aides assist as would be the usual protocol.
Without missing a beat, Dr. Jansen nodded her approval to Miranda's silent question and the editor took Andrea's arm to help her stand, not wanting to give the press the satisfaction or the juicy shot of THE Miranda Priestly in a wheelchair. "I need no further reminder of the ramifications of my age," Miranda spoke in a low tone as she manoeuvred her body out of the chair as elegantly as possible. She smoothed back her hair and straightened her shoulders - adopting the air and attitude of the regal stature that had afforded her the moniker of the Queen of Fashion even without the trademark 4 inch heels that lent her petite frame a significant increase in presence. The question of Miranda wearing any sort of heel to leave the hospital had been met with an unequivocal 'No' from Dr. Jansen, however, and Miranda had been forced to admit in the privacy of her own mind that it was almost a relief to have been 'forbidden' from wearing her signature pumps. Otherwise she might have yielded to the pressure of public opinion and the expectations of her 'followers' as Andrea called them as well as the press. Truthfully, she still felt disconcertingly weak and unsteady on her feet even wearing the plain Tory Burch flats she was currently sporting. It gnawed at her endlessly that her 'call' may have been closer than she thought if after a week of rest and care in-hospital, she still felt this awful.
Homecoming was not the seamless transition either woman had hoped it would be. Once they had arrived at the townhouse, more press were waiting for them, as jawing and bloodthirsty as had been at NYP. Upon seeing the throng, Miranda's lips thinned and her she looked pointedly downwards and to the side as she spoke.
"Roy, you will provide a barrier between ourselves and the press as we enter the townhouse, then you may continue inside and assist as Andrea has requested," she ordered in a low tone that brooked no argument from the older man, and not meeting Andrea's gaze which burned white hot with rage at the sudden change in plans.
"As Andrea requested? I believe you'll find Andrea requested his assistance wherever there might be stairs you're unable to climb. You don't mean to tell me you could possibly be so fool headed as to try and climb those steps, flats or no, one week after you nearly bled to death, miscarrying at 7 months pregnant?
Miranda winced nearly imperceptibly, and it wasn't merely due to the shrill tones Andrea's voice had taken on as she voiced her disbelief. She was well aware of the fragile state of her pregnancy and the tenuous hold of the two lives in her belly. Even now, the incision throbbed painfully from the movement and motion of getting from the wheelchair to the car. But short of developing the power of levitation, as was currently being narrated to her belly by Caroline and Cassidy as they introduced the babies to the world of Harry Potter, there was no way to access the townhouse other than by those seven steps. The thought of Page Six emblazoned with pictures of the Ice Queen being carried into her own home was unthinkable. Within the privacy of the townhouse and around the people she trusted, she could, with difficulty, swallow her pride and quash her vanity, but she could not, could not show that kind of weakness in front of the press - to an even greater extent than had taken place at the hospital with the wheelchair. They would eat her alive - the Dragon Lady brought down low, conquered by her own weak and aging body.
Although outwardly her expression remained cool and passive, Miranda's stomach began to ache on the inside as well as the outside at the betrayed look on the brunette's face as she sat across from her.
Exhausted, and sick, and terrified of watching another relationship fail as a result of her own foolish pride, Miranda's cool broke.
Lurching forward to grab the younger woman's wrist in case she decided to run, Miranda's fingers wrapped around the slender wrist with an almost bruising pressure, which was enough to snap the journalist out of her funk of self-righteous indignation as she met stormy blue eyes that held hers inexorably, desperately trying to convey what her lips could not and the sincerity of her next words.
"Please," the foreign word slipped from Miranda's tongue and caught in her breath as she prepared to beg the other woman to stay. "Andrea, please I…I can't, I'm sorry…I" she trailed off, closing her eyes and shaking her head lightly in frustration at her inability to express herself in the manner she wished, feeling the panic bubble up in her chest and trapping her between two impossible situations.
Brown eyes cleared and then muddied again as they glanced briefly out of the car window before moving back to their linked hands. Andy gently untangled her wrist from Miranda's hold and brought her left hand to her lips so that her lips brushed the older woman's ring finger and the glittering stone that she wanted Miranda to remember held so many promises for their future.
"I know."
Andy exhaled harshly and shut her eyes, flopping back against the seat briefly before sitting up again, trying to get her anger under control. But it wasn't anger at Miranda. "I hate them!" she spat contemptuously, glaring over Miranda's shoulder but unwilling to let any angry tears escape her eyes as she shook with rage at the sight of the waiting horde. "I hate that they can make you do this, that they can hurt you like this."
"Come," Miranda gripped Andy's hand firmly. "The girls will be waiting, perhaps if we're fortunate, I'll be able to make it up the stairs in time to avoid any missiles or homemade projectiles being lobbed in the press's direction by my darling offspring."
Miranda succeeded in drawing a chuckle from the younger woman who snorted, knowing the pair would have something lying in wait for the unlucky group outside.
Andy stepped out of the car first so that upon exiting the vehicle, Miranda was flanked on both sides by either her or Roy. The three then made their way across the sidewalk to the front gate and the townhouse stairs where Roy fell back behind them, ready to keep any interlopers at bay with a stone cold stare and solid stance.
Miranda's legs felt as though they were made of lead, although she appeared outwardly to move with a slow but unaffected grace. Keeping one arm linked with Andrea's and held across her belly protectively, Miranda's right hand gripped the iron rail so tightly it was nearly bloodless as she tried to leverage the majority of her weight against the bannister. She was hopelessly grateful for the solid measure of comfort of Andrea's arm around her waist, ready to stable her if her step faltered. She knew Andrea wouldn't let her fall.
As one would expect, having not seen their mother in days, Caroline and Cassidy were waiting inside the door for the two women. But Andy and Miranda's arms were met with thin air rather than warm bodies as two redheaded whirlwinds barreled past them, using Roy as a shield and lobbing what appeared to be strangely shaped, sopping paper mache shapes into the crowd of press which then burst with a series of wet splatters and expletive-laden yelps of surprise as the targets found their equally slippery marks.
"Girls! Inside this instant!" Miranda commanded. Cassidy looked torn for a long moment as she looked at the remaining grey projectile before dropping it with a sullen thud at her feet and following her sister back into the townhouse.
"Roy, if you please?" Miranda added, seeing the older man was uncertain of where exactly he should be or who he was supposed to be protecting. As Miranda turned away from the door however, he caught Andy's eye with a quickly hidden glint before casually turning on his heel, catching his toe in the process which sent the last 'bomb' flying into the closest group of paparazzi, scattering them as it exploded in a mass of what appeared to be green paint and oatmeal.
Straightening his tie slightly, Roy stepped through the front door into the foyer, leaving Andy to close the door behind the straight-faced man as she bit her own lip until she tasted blood to stop herself from grinning.
That smile was quickly wiped off her face though as she turned around to see Miranda next to the stairs as she'd expected, but gripping the bannister so tightly her knuckles had gone bloodless, a faint sweat broken out at her hairline and looking as though she were going to be ill at any moment.
"Damn," Andy cursed silently as her gaze darted from Miranda to Roy and the girls trying to best figure out how to approach the situation.
"Girls, can you go find Cara and make sure she has a copy of the grocery list of the foods your mom is supposed to be eating as well as the phone number for the nurse and home care consultant?"
Both girls looked dubiously at Andy and then at their mother. "Mom are you okay?" Caroline pulled gently at Miranda's hand until the older woman's glazed expression broke.
"Yes Bobbsey, I'm fine. Mommy's just very tired and looking forward to sleeping in her own bed. Now run along darling, I'll be fine, I" Andy could tell the next words out of her mouth were meant to be 'I promise', but Andrea's reaction as well as her own to that statement in the past stopped her short of making the same mistake with her daughter.
"Andrea and the nurse and Dr. Jansen are going to take very good care of me and do everything they can to make sure the babies are safe, I promise. Perhaps tomorrow after school you can continue with Harry Potter."
Once the small footfalls had died away, Miranda dropped the pretence of normalcy and a haggard exhaustion could be seen written across her features as she leaned into Andrea, willing her head to stop spinning as she rested it against the younger woman's chest.
"Roy," Andy spoke quietly, not moving her eyes from the woman in her arms as the older man moved closer and lifted Miranda up with bearlike arms, ascending to the second floor and down the hallway into their bedroom.
Andy led him over to the chaise near the vanity, knowing Miranda wouldn't want to have anything touch the bed or comforter that had been 'tainted' by the hospital.
Equal parts nausea and embarrassment had caused Miranda to shut her eyes tightly for the duration of the short trip, but she opened them upon being set down, glancing down at her belly and her hand pressed over the incision site before reaching for Roy's hand, surprising the man past words.
"Thank you," her eyes not meeting his as they looked determinedly anywhere but at him, the sentiment was still one of the most genuine Roy had ever heard from the woman he had worked for over the last ten years and he covered the smaller hand with his own, squeezing tightly before letting go and watching it return to the greatly diminished lap of the editor.
"Ladies, if you need me."
"Thanks Roy, I'll walk you out. You stay put!" Andy warned teasingly as she left the bedroom and Miranda sitting silently for the three minutes it took to walk the older man to the door and thank him for his efforts that day.
"Good luck, Andy. Take care of her," Roy's gaze flicked back up the stairs briefly before he nodded at the brunette and headed back out into the now thinning throng of reporters, his lips quirking up at the corners briefly as he stepped over the remnants of the homemade oatmeal bomb that covered part of the sidewalk and were apparent on some of the clothing and equipment of the photographers.
"Darling would you start the bath and make it extra hot?" Miranda grimaced as she placed a hand at the small of her back, trying to work out the ache that had settled there.
"Miranda, you're not supposed to be using hot water and raising your temperature and your stitches can't get wet for another few days until your incision is healed enough for them to dissolve, remember?"
Miranda's nostrils flared although she held her tongue, the next words out of her mouth had an ascerbic tinge however that couldn't be masked. "Fine, if you would so kindly assist me in getting out of these clothes and find the waterproof bandages I shall attempt to scrub the medical pong from my skin in a lukewarm shower. Does that sound reasonable?" she all but hissed as she straightened up and began to stand.
"Miranda, it's not a big deal, just let me help you."
"I'm being treated like a child! I have been bathing myself since the age of four, I believe 46 years of experience is sufficient to prove I don't need supervision."
Although it was a minor thing, Andy could see in the editor's face that for her, it was a very big deal and a source of humiliation, so she switched tactics, hoping to throw the older woman off enough for her to snap out of whatever funk she was in. And God help her if this didn't work, because if it didn't she was fucked - or rather, would not be getting fucked for the foreseeable future.
Slipping one shoulder out of the Chloe blouse she was wearing, Andy's downcast eyes quickly flipped up to meet Miranda's in a soulful puppy dog pout. Miranda's gaze met her own quickly before it was drawn back down to the second shoulder of couture being peeled away from the body beneath it until it slipped away completely - the diaphanous fabric, still warm from Andrea's body, fluttering to the floor. Now Miranda was faced, quite literally, with the white and pink confectionery of the La Perla plunge bra that eked out just past the brunette's equally pink nipples in a tempting froth of lace. Then it too was gone, revealing a prize much greater than the layers of couture that had recently covered it. No fabric could compare to the softness and silkenness of Andrea's skin and the full breasts she now cupped with her hands, akin an offering to the gods.
Miranda's breath caught as the dual peaks stiffened and bloomed with colour as Andy's thumbs brushed over them, teasing herself and both women as she gave a breathy little sigh of pleasure.
Mine! Miranda thought possessively, immediately wanting - no, needing, to replace Andrea's hands with her own, or better yet, her mouth.
"I know you're not a child, Miranda," the voice that broke through her hearing was low and throaty and full of purpose as its owner stepped even closer before lightening as Andy took Miranda's already partially outstretched hand and traced the woman's fingers down the slope of her breast and down her abdomen. "But don't you want to take a bath with me? The voice was gently pouting in tone, gasping when Miranda came to her senses and squeezed the pale mound until both swells rose up and down in time with Andrea's gasps of pleasure. "I'll even be your bath toy."
"Damn you." That did it, now the older woman quickly divested the younger of the rest of her clothing until the brunette stood in front of her, completely naked save for a wicked grin.
"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," Miranda warned as she bit the younger woman's neck and causing her to shiver despite the steamy water.
"It's what I plan on doing for the rest of my life…" Andy replied, "I'm loving you."
They weren't able, of course, to complete their lovemaking. It had only been 9 days since Miranda's heart stopped beating and Andy had almost lost her reason for being. But it had accomplished what Andy had intended when she first set out to appease the older woman's anger at the situation.
In comparison to the stiff and frozen version of Miranda Andy had been dealing with an hour before, this Miranda now was warm and flushed and drowsy, already fading as Andrea helped her dry her hair and changed the dressing over her incision and get into a fresh set of pajamas. She had actually sighed, seemingly in contentment, as Andy had helped her into a comfortable position on the bed and pulled the covers over her before stealing a kiss from lips that were already pursed in sleep.
"Goodnight, my love."
Drop me a line? XOXO - TLH