Northern Lights
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...
When two women seek freedom on the face of a mountain, what are the odds they end up finding each other instead. - ONE SHOT
So I'm not completely thrilled with this, but I needed to get it out of my head and it was a distraction so I could hopefully get back to writing Flawed. Anyway, I hope you like it. Please do let me know for the sake of future writings and one-shots.
XO, TLH
"Freedom," thought Miranda as she wound through the sloping hills and valleys of the Western Rockies. The icy cold air pierced her eyes and seemed to sear in her veins as she expertly slalomed around a jump. It was so rare that she could allow herself to feel like this. With no one to see her laughter and excitement as she trawled the vast face of the mountain. After so many months post-Paris repairing the damage she had done and explaining herself, of all things, to people who were seen as her inferior. But there were no lies her, no tricks, or untruths to trip her. Only the smooth white snow that spanned in front of her in a majestic vale of snowy white. Up here she was free, she would spend forever here if it weren't for her girls. But as soon as the image of her girls crossed through her mind, another face took their place. One with errant strands of hair covering eyes that shone like a pool of melted chocolate and warmed her better than the pile of velvet and fur that she had last thrown in her direction. Shaking her head to clear it, Miranda looked up only to see that on the last curve she had dipped to far to the right, and now a towering fir was directly in her path. Bending one knee she leaned even further to the right, hoping her speed and momentum would carry her past the tree, which it did. But it carried her further into the forest and a log caught the front edge of her ski and she flipped head over heels over the errant log, except that her ski was caught beneath it and pain seared through her leg as the weight of her body twisted it as it was trapped under the wood. Pulling herself to a sitting position, and panting heavily from the pain and the adrenaline, Miranda was able to unclip her boot from the ski. But without Miranda's weight, the log moved forward, pushing her down into the adjacent river along with a snowdrift that covered her entire body. She was stuck, her skis were on the hill, but there was no way for her to get to them. She was holding as much of her body out of the water as was possible, but her left leg was useless. She could barely move it forward an inch without a cry of pain escaping her lips. It was so cold, her hands and feet were numb, she couldn't feel her lips except to know she was biting them every time she cried out. The water was so cold it was all Miranda could do to draw in a breath of freezing air into her chilled lungs and call out with enough force to perhaps be heard if someone else was on the mountain.
"Freedom," Andy thought as she zipped down the mountain. Miranda had disappeared for the rest of the afternoon, probably with the private ski instructor Andy had booked. And the rest of the Runway team were struggling on the bunny hill. Particularly Emily, Andy chuckled as she recalled the scene she had left before she escaped to the Black Diamond runs. Emily had been holding onto Nigel's arm screeching as he snowplowed at a snail's pace down the baby slopes of the bunny hill. She was far from the bunny hill now. She felt like she was flying as she twisted and turned through the valley, blurs of green flashing past her eyes as she tackled the evergreen maze down the side of the hill, if it could be called a hill. Technically, she was past Black Diamond territory. But being a part of Runway did have its perks outside of free clothes and networking. It also got her a free pass to anywhere at the luxury resort they were staying in following a successful wintry themed shoot that actually seemed to have put Miranda in a good mood. Andy's mind traveled back to the shoot, and in her mind's eye replaced the models dressed in nothing but peekaboo lace and fur in front of the fire with another body, one whose curves put the fabric covering them to shame and whose eyes would have burned through the camera's lens were they fastened on it. But no, they were looking at her instead. Seeing her soul, beckoning her.
"Help!"
Wait. Andy slowed her skis and listened again. Thinking it was the mountain playing tricks on her between the whistling wind and the echo of the mountains.
"Please. Help! Someone, anyone!" She had heard right, someone WAS calling her. Sidestepping across the steep slope to the cluster of trees that grew near the icy mountain stream, Andy was sure her eyes were playing tricks on her when she saw none other than Miranda, clinging to the bank of the river. "My God." Andy practically ripped her boots from the skis clasps and ran in those same stiff boots to the edge of the river.
"Miranda," she breathed. Unable to keep from staring at the pale, pale face.
"D-d-d-don't just stand th-th-there. Hel-help me." Miranda's teeth were chattering so hard she could barely speak, and her grasp on the riverbank was slipping.
Keeping on boot on the shore so that they weren't both taken by the river, Andy pulled a soaking wet Miranda from the stream, swearing that the water added fifty pounds to the lithe frame.
"Miranda," Andy crawled over to her boss. "Miranda, are you all right? What happened?"
As per usual, Miranda ignored her question and began asking her own.
"I th-thought you were with, with Emily…"
"On the bunny hill?" Andy scoffed. "No. I've been skiing with my family for years. My uncle had a chalet near Montreal."
"F-fascinating," Miranda spat. "Now w-would you help-help me to th-the nearest -b-building and c-call for m-medical assistance. I believe I may have twisted my knee."
Andy fleetingly brushed her fingertips across the closely fitting nylon material hugging the older woman's figure before she shook her head slightly and began to speak.
"Miranda, it's past open hours. I heard you force them to continue operating the ski lift. I was only a few rows up, going for my last run. There's no one else on the hills. Not even the SnowGo's are operating," Andy said, referencing the hybrid car/snowmobiles that carried skiers to and from the larger hills that were further out to the chalet. "It's a 45 minute trip cross-country on skis, but walking it could take 2 hours or more.
"Fine," Miranda snapped, using Andy to raise herself to a standing position. "Seeing as both the chalet's and my staff are seemingly incompetent, then I suppose we have no other option.
Ignoring the insult, Andy hung back, planning on following the older woman from a distance as it was clear she was not wanted. But when she saw the editor go down only a few steps in, she unclipped her skis and was by her side once more in a matter of seconds.
"Miranda, Miranda, are you hurt?"
The older woman's eyes were squeezed shut and those perfectly shaped expressive lips were twisted in pain. She was also trembling uncontrollably now, and what Andy could see of her lips were tinged blue.
"Alright, that's it. I'm in charge. We're going to go and camp out in one of the chalets until we can call for help." Andy didn't bother asking the editor if that was alright. The unhealthy pallor of her face and the clenching fists as she tried not to cry out the pain was enough of an answer for Andy. "There's one less than a kilometer away. Do you think you can make it that far?
"You stupid girl, what makes you think I am able to ski if I can barely walk?"
"Because you're not going to ski, or walk," Andy said, unwinding her scarf from around her neck and ignoring the barbs from the injured woman. "You just have to hold on."
Miranda reluctantly took hold of one end of the scarf that was wrapped around the younger woman's midsection. The pain was unbelievable as they began to move, but at least with this method they were moving.
Andy winced every time she heard the older woman cry out when they went over a bump, but she couldn't afford to go slower. Miranda's lips had already been turning blue when they were back at the stream. She needed to get her to some sort of shelter asap and figure out how to warm her up gradually so that it didn't endanger her heart.
After what seemed like ages, they finally reached the nearest chalet. It was locked, but Andy took off her ski boot and used the heel to bash the lock, shoving it back on and carefully unclipping Miranda from her skis and helping her as she stepped off of them and took a few unsteady steps into the dark chalet. Her own heart felt as though it had been plunged into a bucket of ice water as she saw the tears crystallized on Miranda's darkened eyelashes as she stubbornly fought the urge to cry out from the pain. Closing the door, Andy saw that it didn't do much good. It wasn't much warmer inside than it was outside. The only difference was the lack of the bitter winds that had whipped the older woman's hair into disarray.
"Damn! Damn, damn, damn!" Andy swore, pounding her fist against the wall as she tried the electrical switch. "They said they'd cut the power to the outbuildings if the storm worsened, I heard them talking about refunds at the front desk. I guess they've done it."
"Astute observation." Miranda knew she was being cruel, but the pain in her leg was almost unbearable and she was so cold she swore she would never stop shaking.
Andy turned her observation back to the woman who was leaning against the couch, shaking violently and looking furious and scared and beautiful all in the same moment.
Sachs. Now is not the time. She told herself, shaking her head, and those dangerous thoughts out of it. Okay, she steadied her racing mind. First things first. Matches, find matches.
Thankfully, one of the kitchen drawers contained what she was looking for. She knelt in front of the fire, trying her best to remember her Girl Scout and Brownies training from two decades prior. Aha! She'd done it!
Flames leapt up from the fireplace, and so did Andy, beaming at her success. That smile faded though as she took in the petite, shivering woman in front of her who was so determined not to receive any help from anybody.
The couch was nailed to the floor. Probably to stop students on winter break from partying and moving the furniture around, so Andy took the cushions from all the chairs, and the blankets from all the bedrooms and arranged them in a sort of semi-circled nest by the fire. She knew Miranda would likely be more comfortable on a bed, but this was the only room with a fireplace.
She explained as much and expected to be torn limb from limb, but Miranda merely shook her head and Andy realized her teeth were chattering too hard for her to speak intelligibly. Without asking, Andy wrapped her arm around Miranda's waist and practically dragged her over to the fire. Her ski-suit was completely soaked and had frozen stiff during their trip to the chalet and Andy quickly removed it and the rest of her clothing that was wet.
"Miranda, I'm sorry." She spoke as she went. "I am, I know this must be terrible for you, but I need to get you warm. You're nearly hypothermic as it is." She began to shed her own clothing although it was dry.
In nothing but their La Perla, and the scarf Andy had tried to semi-immobilize Miranda's knee with, the two women were pressed against each other next to the fire, Andy's hand trying to rub feeling back into Miranda's limbs and extremities. Miranda hadn't said anything, simply ducked her head into Andy's chest and remained silent, letting the younger woman do as she liked. When Andy felt the first teardrop hit the skin of her abomen, her own breath escaped her, and she pulled Miranda up to face her, the older woman gasping at the sensation of being pulled against the bare skin of the brunette's curves rather than at the pain in her knee.
"Miranda, you're going to be alright. I admit, this is not an ideal situation, but we're going to get through it. We're going to get through it."
Tired and in pain, and so cold. Miranda still couldn't stop and think how heavenly it was to be pressed against the other woman like this. Who took such care with her, as though she were special. Always, always it had been her job to prove to the world she was different, that she was special. But Andy had always made her feel that way without her having to prove herself. Even now, she took such care of her in getting her to the chalet, rescuing her from the stream and now warming her up with hands that moved softly, but determinedly as she tried to get Miranda's circulation going throughout her limbs. That kind of touch, that treatment was so foreign to Miranda that she all but forgot about the pain.
"Miranda please," Andy whispered. "I'll get you through this. I promise. Nothing is going to happen to you."
But that was just the problem. Nothing was going to happen. In the morning, they'd be found and life would return to normal. Except that it couldn't. Not for Miranda. Her feelings for the younger woman had finally come out and she didn't quite know how to put them back in, or to pick up the pieces from the heartbreak she would experience when Andy went back to her boyfriend.
She let out a shuddering sigh that suddenly turned into a barking cough that she couldn't stop. It seized her entire body, stealing her breath so that she felt like she was choking.
"Miranda?" A quiet sigh from the older woman turned into a horrible, hacking cough that she couldn't seem to stop and blue eyes, fearful and unsure bored into hers. Andy sat them both up, still holding Miranda against her chest and rubbing her back until finally, finally, the coughing fit had ceased. Dizzy from the lack of oxygen, Miranda lay her head against the younger woman's shoulder.
Every 20 minutes or so, another set of rattling coughs shook Miranda's body, and each time Andy lifted her up, never moving her out of the close embrace she had locked the older woman into and pressed her close, Miranda's head resting against her shoulder so that Andy could hear her breath, and rocked and rubbed her back until the fit had passed.
Andy pressed her hand flat against Miranda's chest between her breaths and rubbed up and down.
"They'll probably treat you for pneumonia," Andy whispered, staring at her hand. "I'm sorry I couldn't get you warm fast enough Miranda. If only I had found you sooner I…"
"Stop," Miranda croaked, lifting her head from Andy's shoulder and hating the loss of contact. "Don't believe that I don't know you saved my life." She hesitated. "No, no one else would have done for me what you have."
"Oh Miranda, I'm sure that's not true…"
"Enough." Miranda's voice was still strong enough to halt the younger woman's speech.
"It is true. And I know it. And no matter what the outcome is, thank you." Miranda reached down and placed her hand over Andy's on her chest, holding what she had of her breath as she slowly curled her fingers inward so that they were entangled with the other woman's.
Andy was as still as a stone, staring at their intertwined hands against Miranda's chest as though she were trying to burn the image into her memory. One tear of her own slipped out as she lifted their hands and pressed her lips to the pale fingers before replacing it and busying herself with lifting the blanket around Miranda's shoulders once more, determined to keep the other woman warm and as close to her body as possible.
Miranda leaned forward. She knew she wasn't thinking straight. This girl was her assistant for heaven's sakes! She had a boyfriend, she wasn't gay. SHE wasn't gay. The cold northern air and the smoke from the fire mingled with the moist breath that lingered in the air between them and the sweat that had broken out on their bodies, and she pressed cold, chapped lips to warm, rosy ones that opened in surprise before pushing back against hers, desperately as though she knew she was on borrowed time.
Andy closed her eyes as she kissed Miranda. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. Miranda was delirious, ill from her bout with the river. But oh God, was it a sweet and tragic illusion that she would carry with her always. She was glad she had left Nate before this trip, after Paris Nate was Nate. But Miranda, Miranda was everything. And not because of Runway or the hero worship of the clackers and millions of readers and subscribers. Her Miranda, this Miranda was warm and real and temperamental and mean and cutting and so sweet in her kisses that she lay so delicately on Andy's chest and lips before she broke off again in a terrible series of coughs that made Andy hold her all the closer as she fought to catch her breath.
And again, the younger woman pulled her into her lap, sitting her up and supporting her so that she could breathe during these awful episodes, before being taken back into warm arms, against a warm body that was so soft as it cradled her body that ached from the constant shivering.
"You're alright. Shhh, it's okay. It's alright. It will be over soon. I've got you, don't be scared." Again, Miranda thought of how sweetly the other woman spoke to her, to HER. As though she really cared.
Andy pulled back again and rubbed Miranda's chest as her breastbone ached from the most recent episode. And oh, Miranda was able to breathe again, and she used what breath she had to speak.
"Andrea, when I kissed you…"
"It's alright, Miranda. You don't need to explain, it's shock from -"
"No!" Miranda broke off in a short hacking fit before continuing, spurred on by the liquid brown eyes that looked up at her questioningly.
"No, it is not. But, I, I need to know. Why? I'm just your boss. I sign your paycheque. Everyone hates me, is afraid of me."
"Not everyone." Andy shook her head. "Not everyone, Miranda. Scared, maybe, almost certainly in fact. But the fact that those people are still here should tell you something. Think, think of me," Andy whispered, not meeting her eyes now. "What of the fact that I'm still here? I could have run off with Christian and joined him and Jacqueline as an editor in their 'new' version of Runway. But I couldn't. My heart was loyal to you, and that's why it broke when I saw you hurt Nigel. I didn't know of your plans, or that you knew the James Holt venture was doomed. But even before I knew all of that I returned. Returned knowing you could have easily dismissed me and turned me away for my actions and my behaviour. But you didn't. And I realized that if I had left in Paris, I would have left all that I cared about behind, and for what? A ruined past that showed me my friendships could not endure the slightest hardship? You were only my boss and already you had shown me more loyalty than they ever did.
"You're special, Andrea." Miranda whispered, her voice ragged from the coughs that shook the petite frame completely entwined with Andrea's under the blankets. "Never…" she coughed and lay her aching head against the soft, pillowy breast that offered itself to her as the most sublime means of comfort that no thousand dollar swan feather substitute could ever replicate in comfort. "Never doubt that. You are exquisite."
She coughed again and Andrea held her closer, rubbing her back in soothing circles and pressing her lips to her forehead to check for fever.
As much as she wanted to continue the conversation with Andrea, Miranda felt her eyelids grow heavy as she drowsed in and out of consciousness, punctuated briefly by a few coughs. But soon she was unable even to keep her lids open and she swore as she closed them she felt the featherlight brush of Andrea's lips against her closed eyes, and she allowed herself to give in to the warmth and perhaps the fever and drift into slumber.
Light-coloured lashes, the mascara worn off by her tears and the snow, fluttered against flushed cheeks, from warmth or fever Andy didn't know and she leaned over Miranda's head to press her lips against them, making sure they stayed shut so the older woman could get some rest.
Andy had barely come to terms with the fact that she had Miranda Priestly, half-naked, in her arms, a soft smile still on her lips from when Andy had kissed her. Who was this woman? Whoever she was, Andy could not let her go, would not. But…if she woke up and Andy found that Miranda had thought it all a dream what was she to do? She wasn't certain she could see Miranda everyday after today and not touch her and hold her and kiss her as she was still unable to believe she just had. And yet she also couldn't imagine a future without Miranda. So she was stuck, trapped in the demi-world of this cabin which had only a limited existence before it was intruded upon by their 'rescuers'.
Andy shut her eyes tightly and willed her body, every inch of it that was pressed to Miranda, to remember what it was touching for the long, lonely nights if not years she would spend trying to find another who could make her feel the way she did now. Never had she welcomed such a close embrace, even from a lover. But Miranda felt so perfect, so right in her arms, her curves fitting into all the right places and her warm weight against Andy a comfort rather than a nuisance.
There was no coming back from this. What on earth was she going to tell Miranda?
Mmm, you don't need to tell Miranda anything darling, not if you feel, truly, as I do."
"Which is?" Andy asked tentatively, still concerned this was some kind of trap.
"That I would be perfectly content to stay in front of this fire, long past the point of rescue and feel the full length of your body against mine and there find other ways of warming my hands and fingers and numerous other things."
"I would love that," Andy replied, beaming, as she lay semi-rolled on top of Miranda and helpless to stop a tear or two from rolling down her cheek, which wasn't cold in the slightest. "Can you promise me a rain check?"
Miranda looked hurt, and then affronted. "Why? What's the matter with me now? That my makeup is gone or my hair is a mess?"
Andy laughed and Miranda grew even more enraged until she replied. "There's the one small thing standing in our way of your twisted knee and bruised ribcage from coughing - oh, and the possible pneumonia."
"Ah." Miranda's cheeks coloured even past the flush of the fever and Andy kissed each of them and then each of her eyelids and her nose. "But when I have you at full strength, that mountain top is going to seem like a theme park ride compared to what I'm going to take you on."
"That's better, Miranda purred, her voice only catching once or twice on a cough.
And both women were true to their world although the mountain rescue team who had found them early the next morning were none the wiser as they came across the two women, fully dressed in front of the fire, and any thoughts otherwise were soon blasted out of their ears by the tones of Miranda's displeasure at having been left all night in such an appalling dismay of mismanagement.
Only the mountain would ever know their secret. And it wasn't telling.
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...
When two women seek freedom on the face of a mountain, what are the odds they end up finding each other instead. - ONE SHOT
So I'm not completely thrilled with this, but I needed to get it out of my head and it was a distraction so I could hopefully get back to writing Flawed. Anyway, I hope you like it. Please do let me know for the sake of future writings and one-shots.
XO, TLH
"Freedom," thought Miranda as she wound through the sloping hills and valleys of the Western Rockies. The icy cold air pierced her eyes and seemed to sear in her veins as she expertly slalomed around a jump. It was so rare that she could allow herself to feel like this. With no one to see her laughter and excitement as she trawled the vast face of the mountain. After so many months post-Paris repairing the damage she had done and explaining herself, of all things, to people who were seen as her inferior. But there were no lies her, no tricks, or untruths to trip her. Only the smooth white snow that spanned in front of her in a majestic vale of snowy white. Up here she was free, she would spend forever here if it weren't for her girls. But as soon as the image of her girls crossed through her mind, another face took their place. One with errant strands of hair covering eyes that shone like a pool of melted chocolate and warmed her better than the pile of velvet and fur that she had last thrown in her direction. Shaking her head to clear it, Miranda looked up only to see that on the last curve she had dipped to far to the right, and now a towering fir was directly in her path. Bending one knee she leaned even further to the right, hoping her speed and momentum would carry her past the tree, which it did. But it carried her further into the forest and a log caught the front edge of her ski and she flipped head over heels over the errant log, except that her ski was caught beneath it and pain seared through her leg as the weight of her body twisted it as it was trapped under the wood. Pulling herself to a sitting position, and panting heavily from the pain and the adrenaline, Miranda was able to unclip her boot from the ski. But without Miranda's weight, the log moved forward, pushing her down into the adjacent river along with a snowdrift that covered her entire body. She was stuck, her skis were on the hill, but there was no way for her to get to them. She was holding as much of her body out of the water as was possible, but her left leg was useless. She could barely move it forward an inch without a cry of pain escaping her lips. It was so cold, her hands and feet were numb, she couldn't feel her lips except to know she was biting them every time she cried out. The water was so cold it was all Miranda could do to draw in a breath of freezing air into her chilled lungs and call out with enough force to perhaps be heard if someone else was on the mountain.
"Freedom," Andy thought as she zipped down the mountain. Miranda had disappeared for the rest of the afternoon, probably with the private ski instructor Andy had booked. And the rest of the Runway team were struggling on the bunny hill. Particularly Emily, Andy chuckled as she recalled the scene she had left before she escaped to the Black Diamond runs. Emily had been holding onto Nigel's arm screeching as he snowplowed at a snail's pace down the baby slopes of the bunny hill. She was far from the bunny hill now. She felt like she was flying as she twisted and turned through the valley, blurs of green flashing past her eyes as she tackled the evergreen maze down the side of the hill, if it could be called a hill. Technically, she was past Black Diamond territory. But being a part of Runway did have its perks outside of free clothes and networking. It also got her a free pass to anywhere at the luxury resort they were staying in following a successful wintry themed shoot that actually seemed to have put Miranda in a good mood. Andy's mind traveled back to the shoot, and in her mind's eye replaced the models dressed in nothing but peekaboo lace and fur in front of the fire with another body, one whose curves put the fabric covering them to shame and whose eyes would have burned through the camera's lens were they fastened on it. But no, they were looking at her instead. Seeing her soul, beckoning her.
"Help!"
Wait. Andy slowed her skis and listened again. Thinking it was the mountain playing tricks on her between the whistling wind and the echo of the mountains.
"Please. Help! Someone, anyone!" She had heard right, someone WAS calling her. Sidestepping across the steep slope to the cluster of trees that grew near the icy mountain stream, Andy was sure her eyes were playing tricks on her when she saw none other than Miranda, clinging to the bank of the river. "My God." Andy practically ripped her boots from the skis clasps and ran in those same stiff boots to the edge of the river.
"Miranda," she breathed. Unable to keep from staring at the pale, pale face.
"D-d-d-don't just stand th-th-there. Hel-help me." Miranda's teeth were chattering so hard she could barely speak, and her grasp on the riverbank was slipping.
Keeping on boot on the shore so that they weren't both taken by the river, Andy pulled a soaking wet Miranda from the stream, swearing that the water added fifty pounds to the lithe frame.
"Miranda," Andy crawled over to her boss. "Miranda, are you all right? What happened?"
As per usual, Miranda ignored her question and began asking her own.
"I th-thought you were with, with Emily…"
"On the bunny hill?" Andy scoffed. "No. I've been skiing with my family for years. My uncle had a chalet near Montreal."
"F-fascinating," Miranda spat. "Now w-would you help-help me to th-the nearest -b-building and c-call for m-medical assistance. I believe I may have twisted my knee."
Andy fleetingly brushed her fingertips across the closely fitting nylon material hugging the older woman's figure before she shook her head slightly and began to speak.
"Miranda, it's past open hours. I heard you force them to continue operating the ski lift. I was only a few rows up, going for my last run. There's no one else on the hills. Not even the SnowGo's are operating," Andy said, referencing the hybrid car/snowmobiles that carried skiers to and from the larger hills that were further out to the chalet. "It's a 45 minute trip cross-country on skis, but walking it could take 2 hours or more.
"Fine," Miranda snapped, using Andy to raise herself to a standing position. "Seeing as both the chalet's and my staff are seemingly incompetent, then I suppose we have no other option.
Ignoring the insult, Andy hung back, planning on following the older woman from a distance as it was clear she was not wanted. But when she saw the editor go down only a few steps in, she unclipped her skis and was by her side once more in a matter of seconds.
"Miranda, Miranda, are you hurt?"
The older woman's eyes were squeezed shut and those perfectly shaped expressive lips were twisted in pain. She was also trembling uncontrollably now, and what Andy could see of her lips were tinged blue.
"Alright, that's it. I'm in charge. We're going to go and camp out in one of the chalets until we can call for help." Andy didn't bother asking the editor if that was alright. The unhealthy pallor of her face and the clenching fists as she tried not to cry out the pain was enough of an answer for Andy. "There's one less than a kilometer away. Do you think you can make it that far?
"You stupid girl, what makes you think I am able to ski if I can barely walk?"
"Because you're not going to ski, or walk," Andy said, unwinding her scarf from around her neck and ignoring the barbs from the injured woman. "You just have to hold on."
Miranda reluctantly took hold of one end of the scarf that was wrapped around the younger woman's midsection. The pain was unbelievable as they began to move, but at least with this method they were moving.
Andy winced every time she heard the older woman cry out when they went over a bump, but she couldn't afford to go slower. Miranda's lips had already been turning blue when they were back at the stream. She needed to get her to some sort of shelter asap and figure out how to warm her up gradually so that it didn't endanger her heart.
After what seemed like ages, they finally reached the nearest chalet. It was locked, but Andy took off her ski boot and used the heel to bash the lock, shoving it back on and carefully unclipping Miranda from her skis and helping her as she stepped off of them and took a few unsteady steps into the dark chalet. Her own heart felt as though it had been plunged into a bucket of ice water as she saw the tears crystallized on Miranda's darkened eyelashes as she stubbornly fought the urge to cry out from the pain. Closing the door, Andy saw that it didn't do much good. It wasn't much warmer inside than it was outside. The only difference was the lack of the bitter winds that had whipped the older woman's hair into disarray.
"Damn! Damn, damn, damn!" Andy swore, pounding her fist against the wall as she tried the electrical switch. "They said they'd cut the power to the outbuildings if the storm worsened, I heard them talking about refunds at the front desk. I guess they've done it."
"Astute observation." Miranda knew she was being cruel, but the pain in her leg was almost unbearable and she was so cold she swore she would never stop shaking.
Andy turned her observation back to the woman who was leaning against the couch, shaking violently and looking furious and scared and beautiful all in the same moment.
Sachs. Now is not the time. She told herself, shaking her head, and those dangerous thoughts out of it. Okay, she steadied her racing mind. First things first. Matches, find matches.
Thankfully, one of the kitchen drawers contained what she was looking for. She knelt in front of the fire, trying her best to remember her Girl Scout and Brownies training from two decades prior. Aha! She'd done it!
Flames leapt up from the fireplace, and so did Andy, beaming at her success. That smile faded though as she took in the petite, shivering woman in front of her who was so determined not to receive any help from anybody.
The couch was nailed to the floor. Probably to stop students on winter break from partying and moving the furniture around, so Andy took the cushions from all the chairs, and the blankets from all the bedrooms and arranged them in a sort of semi-circled nest by the fire. She knew Miranda would likely be more comfortable on a bed, but this was the only room with a fireplace.
She explained as much and expected to be torn limb from limb, but Miranda merely shook her head and Andy realized her teeth were chattering too hard for her to speak intelligibly. Without asking, Andy wrapped her arm around Miranda's waist and practically dragged her over to the fire. Her ski-suit was completely soaked and had frozen stiff during their trip to the chalet and Andy quickly removed it and the rest of her clothing that was wet.
"Miranda, I'm sorry." She spoke as she went. "I am, I know this must be terrible for you, but I need to get you warm. You're nearly hypothermic as it is." She began to shed her own clothing although it was dry.
In nothing but their La Perla, and the scarf Andy had tried to semi-immobilize Miranda's knee with, the two women were pressed against each other next to the fire, Andy's hand trying to rub feeling back into Miranda's limbs and extremities. Miranda hadn't said anything, simply ducked her head into Andy's chest and remained silent, letting the younger woman do as she liked. When Andy felt the first teardrop hit the skin of her abomen, her own breath escaped her, and she pulled Miranda up to face her, the older woman gasping at the sensation of being pulled against the bare skin of the brunette's curves rather than at the pain in her knee.
"Miranda, you're going to be alright. I admit, this is not an ideal situation, but we're going to get through it. We're going to get through it."
Tired and in pain, and so cold. Miranda still couldn't stop and think how heavenly it was to be pressed against the other woman like this. Who took such care with her, as though she were special. Always, always it had been her job to prove to the world she was different, that she was special. But Andy had always made her feel that way without her having to prove herself. Even now, she took such care of her in getting her to the chalet, rescuing her from the stream and now warming her up with hands that moved softly, but determinedly as she tried to get Miranda's circulation going throughout her limbs. That kind of touch, that treatment was so foreign to Miranda that she all but forgot about the pain.
"Miranda please," Andy whispered. "I'll get you through this. I promise. Nothing is going to happen to you."
But that was just the problem. Nothing was going to happen. In the morning, they'd be found and life would return to normal. Except that it couldn't. Not for Miranda. Her feelings for the younger woman had finally come out and she didn't quite know how to put them back in, or to pick up the pieces from the heartbreak she would experience when Andy went back to her boyfriend.
She let out a shuddering sigh that suddenly turned into a barking cough that she couldn't stop. It seized her entire body, stealing her breath so that she felt like she was choking.
"Miranda?" A quiet sigh from the older woman turned into a horrible, hacking cough that she couldn't seem to stop and blue eyes, fearful and unsure bored into hers. Andy sat them both up, still holding Miranda against her chest and rubbing her back until finally, finally, the coughing fit had ceased. Dizzy from the lack of oxygen, Miranda lay her head against the younger woman's shoulder.
Every 20 minutes or so, another set of rattling coughs shook Miranda's body, and each time Andy lifted her up, never moving her out of the close embrace she had locked the older woman into and pressed her close, Miranda's head resting against her shoulder so that Andy could hear her breath, and rocked and rubbed her back until the fit had passed.
Andy pressed her hand flat against Miranda's chest between her breaths and rubbed up and down.
"They'll probably treat you for pneumonia," Andy whispered, staring at her hand. "I'm sorry I couldn't get you warm fast enough Miranda. If only I had found you sooner I…"
"Stop," Miranda croaked, lifting her head from Andy's shoulder and hating the loss of contact. "Don't believe that I don't know you saved my life." She hesitated. "No, no one else would have done for me what you have."
"Oh Miranda, I'm sure that's not true…"
"Enough." Miranda's voice was still strong enough to halt the younger woman's speech.
"It is true. And I know it. And no matter what the outcome is, thank you." Miranda reached down and placed her hand over Andy's on her chest, holding what she had of her breath as she slowly curled her fingers inward so that they were entangled with the other woman's.
Andy was as still as a stone, staring at their intertwined hands against Miranda's chest as though she were trying to burn the image into her memory. One tear of her own slipped out as she lifted their hands and pressed her lips to the pale fingers before replacing it and busying herself with lifting the blanket around Miranda's shoulders once more, determined to keep the other woman warm and as close to her body as possible.
Miranda leaned forward. She knew she wasn't thinking straight. This girl was her assistant for heaven's sakes! She had a boyfriend, she wasn't gay. SHE wasn't gay. The cold northern air and the smoke from the fire mingled with the moist breath that lingered in the air between them and the sweat that had broken out on their bodies, and she pressed cold, chapped lips to warm, rosy ones that opened in surprise before pushing back against hers, desperately as though she knew she was on borrowed time.
Andy closed her eyes as she kissed Miranda. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. Miranda was delirious, ill from her bout with the river. But oh God, was it a sweet and tragic illusion that she would carry with her always. She was glad she had left Nate before this trip, after Paris Nate was Nate. But Miranda, Miranda was everything. And not because of Runway or the hero worship of the clackers and millions of readers and subscribers. Her Miranda, this Miranda was warm and real and temperamental and mean and cutting and so sweet in her kisses that she lay so delicately on Andy's chest and lips before she broke off again in a terrible series of coughs that made Andy hold her all the closer as she fought to catch her breath.
And again, the younger woman pulled her into her lap, sitting her up and supporting her so that she could breathe during these awful episodes, before being taken back into warm arms, against a warm body that was so soft as it cradled her body that ached from the constant shivering.
"You're alright. Shhh, it's okay. It's alright. It will be over soon. I've got you, don't be scared." Again, Miranda thought of how sweetly the other woman spoke to her, to HER. As though she really cared.
Andy pulled back again and rubbed Miranda's chest as her breastbone ached from the most recent episode. And oh, Miranda was able to breathe again, and she used what breath she had to speak.
"Andrea, when I kissed you…"
"It's alright, Miranda. You don't need to explain, it's shock from -"
"No!" Miranda broke off in a short hacking fit before continuing, spurred on by the liquid brown eyes that looked up at her questioningly.
"No, it is not. But, I, I need to know. Why? I'm just your boss. I sign your paycheque. Everyone hates me, is afraid of me."
"Not everyone." Andy shook her head. "Not everyone, Miranda. Scared, maybe, almost certainly in fact. But the fact that those people are still here should tell you something. Think, think of me," Andy whispered, not meeting her eyes now. "What of the fact that I'm still here? I could have run off with Christian and joined him and Jacqueline as an editor in their 'new' version of Runway. But I couldn't. My heart was loyal to you, and that's why it broke when I saw you hurt Nigel. I didn't know of your plans, or that you knew the James Holt venture was doomed. But even before I knew all of that I returned. Returned knowing you could have easily dismissed me and turned me away for my actions and my behaviour. But you didn't. And I realized that if I had left in Paris, I would have left all that I cared about behind, and for what? A ruined past that showed me my friendships could not endure the slightest hardship? You were only my boss and already you had shown me more loyalty than they ever did.
"You're special, Andrea." Miranda whispered, her voice ragged from the coughs that shook the petite frame completely entwined with Andrea's under the blankets. "Never…" she coughed and lay her aching head against the soft, pillowy breast that offered itself to her as the most sublime means of comfort that no thousand dollar swan feather substitute could ever replicate in comfort. "Never doubt that. You are exquisite."
She coughed again and Andrea held her closer, rubbing her back in soothing circles and pressing her lips to her forehead to check for fever.
As much as she wanted to continue the conversation with Andrea, Miranda felt her eyelids grow heavy as she drowsed in and out of consciousness, punctuated briefly by a few coughs. But soon she was unable even to keep her lids open and she swore as she closed them she felt the featherlight brush of Andrea's lips against her closed eyes, and she allowed herself to give in to the warmth and perhaps the fever and drift into slumber.
Light-coloured lashes, the mascara worn off by her tears and the snow, fluttered against flushed cheeks, from warmth or fever Andy didn't know and she leaned over Miranda's head to press her lips against them, making sure they stayed shut so the older woman could get some rest.
Andy had barely come to terms with the fact that she had Miranda Priestly, half-naked, in her arms, a soft smile still on her lips from when Andy had kissed her. Who was this woman? Whoever she was, Andy could not let her go, would not. But…if she woke up and Andy found that Miranda had thought it all a dream what was she to do? She wasn't certain she could see Miranda everyday after today and not touch her and hold her and kiss her as she was still unable to believe she just had. And yet she also couldn't imagine a future without Miranda. So she was stuck, trapped in the demi-world of this cabin which had only a limited existence before it was intruded upon by their 'rescuers'.
Andy shut her eyes tightly and willed her body, every inch of it that was pressed to Miranda, to remember what it was touching for the long, lonely nights if not years she would spend trying to find another who could make her feel the way she did now. Never had she welcomed such a close embrace, even from a lover. But Miranda felt so perfect, so right in her arms, her curves fitting into all the right places and her warm weight against Andy a comfort rather than a nuisance.
There was no coming back from this. What on earth was she going to tell Miranda?
Mmm, you don't need to tell Miranda anything darling, not if you feel, truly, as I do."
"Which is?" Andy asked tentatively, still concerned this was some kind of trap.
"That I would be perfectly content to stay in front of this fire, long past the point of rescue and feel the full length of your body against mine and there find other ways of warming my hands and fingers and numerous other things."
"I would love that," Andy replied, beaming, as she lay semi-rolled on top of Miranda and helpless to stop a tear or two from rolling down her cheek, which wasn't cold in the slightest. "Can you promise me a rain check?"
Miranda looked hurt, and then affronted. "Why? What's the matter with me now? That my makeup is gone or my hair is a mess?"
Andy laughed and Miranda grew even more enraged until she replied. "There's the one small thing standing in our way of your twisted knee and bruised ribcage from coughing - oh, and the possible pneumonia."
"Ah." Miranda's cheeks coloured even past the flush of the fever and Andy kissed each of them and then each of her eyelids and her nose. "But when I have you at full strength, that mountain top is going to seem like a theme park ride compared to what I'm going to take you on."
"That's better, Miranda purred, her voice only catching once or twice on a cough.
And both women were true to their world although the mountain rescue team who had found them early the next morning were none the wiser as they came across the two women, fully dressed in front of the fire, and any thoughts otherwise were soon blasted out of their ears by the tones of Miranda's displeasure at having been left all night in such an appalling dismay of mismanagement.
Only the mountain would ever know their secret. And it wasn't telling.