Chapter 56: Afterparty

[theladyholl]

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...



BREAKING NEWS! GIRL WITH NEW JOB ACTUALLY GETS CHAPTER OUT BEFORE CHRISTMAS! AND IT'S LONG!
(See bottom blurb for *desperate* request for feedback because she's convinced herself she's writing Miranda all wrong despite a clear image in her head)

Once she was on her feet however, it soon became obvious that she was in no way able to move under her own steam, and Dr. Jansen quickly called for a wheelchair, seeing as her patient was set and determined to see her babies, and would not consent to get the rest she needed until she had done so.

Using one arm to support her still swollen stomach, Miranda sat down with a hiss of pain and had to resort back to her measured breathing as she squeezed Andrea's hand from where the young woman had squatted down in front of the wheelchair.

Watery blue eyes opened to see concerned brown and she simply nodded for them to get on their way.

Once inside, Miranda was unable to see into the bassinets given her seated position and there was no way she was getting up, so after a moment or so of consternation, the doctor reached into the bassinet with a practiced hand and gently passed the baby to Andy, who pressed a kiss to the baby boy's forehead before passing him gently to Miranda, keeping an arm curved under hers to help support the slight weight of the baby which was still enough to tire Miranda's arms.

"Did you want to try and feed them, Miranda?" Dr. Jansen nodded her approval and after a moment of consternation looking at the tiny face, Miranda pushed aside her concerns over privacy, her desire to bond with the baby overriding her discomfort at baring herself to anybody but Andrea. Actually, if she were being entirely literal, this doctor had been deeper inside her than Andrea ever had.

Patience was not a word that was commonly associated with Runway's editor-in-chief, but Andy watched as Miranda gently coaxed the baby to nurse, the harsh planes of her tired features softening into a beatific smile as the seemingly impossibly small, perfect mouth opened, finally latching on after a moment as Miranda stroked the baby's cheek to encourage the infant's sucking reflex. "There we go, my darling," Miranda murmured softly as she leaned back to watch the baby boy nurse successfully.

After a moment however, Andy was jerked out of her dreamy state of bliss watching the two together by a sharp intake of breath and Miranda tensing in her arms, clutching the still-nursing baby close as she rocked back and forward gently, still incredibly sore from the birth.

"Miranda, what is it? What hurts?

Miranda shook her head wordlessly, eyes squeezed tight against the pain for a few moments until she relaxed again, slumping indelicately back into the chair, lacking the strength to hold herself up. "Gods."

"Miranda, what is it?" Andy repeated, concern filling her voice as she rested her hands on the other woman's knees and watched the clenching muscles in her cheek as she squeezed her eyes shut tight.

"The a-after pains the doctors warned us could happen after the birth…they're frightful. It's likely the breastfeeding that's stimulating the contractions."

Dr. Jansen stepped forward. "Do you want to stop for a little bit? We don't need another bleed on our hands."

Miranda shook her head, exhaling deeply as she did. "No," she looked over to Andrea to explain, "you know it's important for the babies to receive the antibodies as close to the birth as possible."

Andrea's hands curved around Miranda's waist, stealing beneath the blankets to rest overtop of the tensing muscles. Miranda flinched again, although this time it wasn't from the pain.

"Shh," Andy soothed, correctly interpreting Miranda's fears about her newly changed body and still swollen middle. "Does that help a little?"

Miranda just nodded, allowing Andy to take the baby that had finished feeding and hand her her daughter, a smile coming to her lips even as a grunt of pain escaped them from the effort of holding her body up while Andy moved to switch the babies, hating even the briefest moments her arms were empty.

She repeated the process with the little girl, fitting the tiny body against her and gently brushing the smaller baby's lips with the nipple. "Oh my sweet girl,"

After a few moments though, it became apparent that something wasn't right. Instead of steady little puffs of air, long drags seemed as though they were being drawn from the baby's throat and the effort it was taking the tiny body could be seen even through the swaddling.

Scooping up the newborn, Dr. Jansen quickly unwrapped the baby, laying her on her back and quickly hooking her stethoscope around her ears to listen.

"That's what I was afraid of," Dr. Jansen said as she worked on the struggling infant, whose colour was rapidly deteriorating. "Her lungs haven't produced enough surfactant to sustain a regular breathing pattern."

"What does that mean?" Andy looked, terrified as the blue tinge continued to spread over the tiny girl's body.

Then it seemed the chaos multiplied tenfold as what monitors were still on the baby chimed and chirped and blared.

"Damn. She's not breathing. Hey!" she called to a nurse just coming in the door, "get me a ventilator and an intubation kit stat!"

"Come on honey," Dr. Jansen used two fingers to massage the baby's chest before she turned her over and began to rub her back briskly in the hopes it would shock her into taking a breath so the airways opened enough to get the tubing in.

A faint, wheezing sound came from the tiny body, and Dr. Jansen wasted no time laying her back down in the incubator and beginning to feed the impossibly small tube down the baby's throat while the NICU nurse fitted a cannula into her nose to filter extra oxygen through until the procedure was finished.

Slowly, the little body pinked up again but Miranda looked as though she were in shock.

"Miranda," Dr. Jansen spoke slowly, "are you okay?"

"No, no, I'm most definitely not okay. I, I just watched my child stop breathing. She, she was blue and she was trying so hard to take a breath and I'm the one responsible. If I hadn't…hadn't insisted…"

"Babies are resilient, Miranda. I have been in this job for almost ten years and still, every single day I am amazed by the strength contained in these tiny bodies. The last pair of TTS twins I saw were in a perfectly healthy 32 year old, who had previously competed in marathons and were only carried for fourteen weeks until they were miscarried."

"I can't stand this impotence, this inability to fix this or stop them from hurting. It's an impossible thought that there is nothing I can do." Came the sotto voce whisper.

"You're looking at two 'things' that should have been impossible to bear."

Instead of responding, Miranda made a slightly choked sound and her features once again screwed up in distress before she exhaled, panting slightly from the effort and looking furious about it.

"All the hormones surging through your bloodstream right now, in combination with your mind and body coming to terms that it isn't carrying a baby anymore and I'm not surprised you're experiencing more contractions," the doctor remarked.

Miranda looked down at the 5 months belly it still looked like she was carrying and brought her hands around at the widest part beneath the cover of her robe, stretching her fingers out to bear some of the weight as she contemplated the strange absence of the babies from her body. Although her organs had space to move and breathe again, Miranda was acutely aware of the feeling of loss and emptiness and it made her feel strangely vacuous.

"Miranda, did you want to go back to your room? The best thing you can do right now for yourself and the babies is to take care of yourself and rest. The healthier you are and the less stressed, the more milk your body will produce and I'm planning on these being very hungry, very chunky babies with ample thigh folds to squish that I've promised Andy."

This finally prompted a faint quirking up of the lips on Miranda's part, which seemed to satisfy the doctor. But this reminded her of another concern.

"Doctor, what am I to do about feeding them if I can't touch them? Does the breastmilk go wasted? I had planned on breastfeeding from the beginning with them. I-I wasn't able to with my girls, theirs were mixed feeds…"

She remembered with perfect clarity the careful, quiet walk down the hall to the nursery where she would inevitably be met with wide blue eyes, and whether wailing or cooing she would take each of her babies into her arms and settle in the large blue armchair, watching the rosy cheeks work busily until those same baby blues would flutter closed after she burped them and rocked them back to sleep. Caroline had had colic and Miranda would sit with her for longer afterwards, feeling her baby's pain squeeze her own heart as she rubbed the tiny belly until all the gas bubbles were gone. Caroline had always been the 'high-strung' twin, whereas Cassidy could and would sleep through her sister's wailing although she did a fair imitation of a 'Miranda fit' when she was woken up unexpectedly or was stopped from crawling into something she shouldn't. That brief moment, early in the morning, earlier than she had ever woken for work before was one of her most treasured memories of just her and her girls.

As she wandered through her memories, a pain tugged at her belly and she gripped the handles of her wheelchair, moving one hand to support the weakened muscles of her stomach.

Doctor Jansen continued to explain, talking back and forth between Andy and Miranda. "The uterus contracts after the birth to return to its normal size, but the duration and intensity of Miranda's after-pains is a little worrisome. If the muscles continue to contract too violently, they may actually be delaying healing and recovery and instead cause more damage. If your body is producing too much Pitocin post-partum because of the injection, I'll prescribe a mild relaxant like naproxen to see if we can take the edge off, that shouldn't interfere with the painkillers we already gave you."

Andy could see that those painkillers were rapidly taking effect as the anger melted slowly away from Miranda's gaze, and the doctor stepped away from the pair to talk to a nurse who had approached rather timidly as they had been talking.

"Look at our beautiful babies, Andrea," one hand reached out softly to lay atop the side of the bassinet and the other one fluttered over her still swollen abdomen. "They're here…only hours ago our babies were in…me, and now they're here," she mused softly. Andrea pressed her lips to the lines at the corner of Miranda's eyes. The older woman looked almost sorrowful at the fact that they were no longer inside her although she would never admit it out loud, and it made Andy love her all the more. And she knew that her lover's soliloquizing now was due to the painkillers swirling around in her system and that she would never normally allow herself what she was sure to call a 'maudlin' display of emotions, which Andy would of course, then argue she was completely entitled to, having just given birth. But such was life, such was their relationship, and as such - Andy couldn't imagine having it any other way.

Instead she teased her, "The backaches, the swollen feet, the nausea and being exhausted all the time? I seem to recall a certain amount of frustration and discomfort involved in getting these babies here."

"I assure you, Andrea, the exhaustion does not cease once the children are born," Miranda chuckled wryly before grimacing slightly at the overwhelming soreness that rippled across the spent muscles of her stomach.

"But, it is so worth it," she whispered, almost to herself as her gaze once more fell on the delicate bodies of her children, content simply to watch their chests rise and fall with rapid little breaths.

"I had forgotten some of the horrible indignities of giving birth," Miranda murmured as she shuffled painfully into the bathroom that evening to change sanitary pads yet again, glad for the firm elastic support of the yoga pants she was wearing only because they held the sore remnants of her pregnant belly in place where her own muscles were unable to, and she refused to wear the support girdle now that she wasn't pregnant, much to Andy's continued frustration.

"How's the bleeding?" Andrea asked, brown eyes exhausted but full of concern as they looked up from the bed where the young woman had propped herself up on one elbow, watching carefully over her lover who proudly refused help into the bathroom.

Gritting her teeth against the low groan that escaped her throat as she settled her sore body back into bed, Miranda shot a grateful glance at Andy who arranged the pillows back into the arrangement Miranda had found comfortable throughout her pregnancy and helped her settle down into them without too much strain on her stitches. "Heavy," she admitted, "but bearable."

Andy kissed the swollen eyelids closed over bloodshot irises. "Try and get some rest," the sweet voice urged and Miranda's lips quirked up into a faint smile even as she succumbed to the lure of unconsciousness.

It was an awful night; they weren't permitted to see their children after a certain hour and Andy could do nothing but watch as her beautiful wife who had just given birth to those two beautiful infants struggled to find any sort of relief for the pain that seemed to offer no more reprieve than it had when she had gone through the same pain to give birth only hours before.

Andy lay with her, Miranda curled into her chest with her head tucked underneath Andy's chin, the slight gasps of pain alerting Andy to her distress whenever a 'contraction' hit. The ready supply of both cool and hot, damp towels a kindly nurse had set underneath a heat lamp also seemed to provide some measure of comfort as Miranda frequently requested a fresh set that Andy would fold beneath the small of her back or place against her abdomen when she wasn't holding a cool set to the fevered forehead.

"Is this all just because I'm old? Miranda turned dry but red and swollen eyes on Andy, looking for an answer she knew she couldn't give.

"No. Miranda you had a difficult delivery. You had a haemorrhage, you almost, I almost…" Miranda felt the tremors in the warm body beside and underneath her and traced her hand lightly over the goosebumps on her forearm before laying her head against Andrea's side once more, letting the younger woman fold a new towel against her back and prompt her to press hard against the bottommost vertebrae of her spine. "I'm sorry," Miranda whispered, laying her fingers against the younger woman's arm.

The image of the doctors working on Miranda's apparently lifeless body was enough to keep sleep at bay, despite the fact that she had long since passed exhaustion. Instead, she freshly appreciated the weight of the older woman's body against her, the knowledge that Miranda was comfortable enough to do so meant she had earned a trust no lover in Miranda's life ever had, although tonight was one of the more markedly uncomfortable nights for both of them.

The little sleep she did manage to get was in fits and starts and she felt her body had never allowed her to slip fully into unconsciousness. Upon waking in the early hours of the morning, Andy checked the monitors for the millionth time and saw that regardless of how Miranda might be feeling when she woke, she had come through the night with flying colours. "Thank you," she breathed, and pressed her lips to Miranda's forehead which was blessedly cool. It would have been inconceivably dangerous for Miranda had she gotten an infection or a virus after the birth when her own immune system was so depleted. But she wasn't feverish like she had been earlier that night, and the tremors had diminished significantly so that as long as she had the constant, steady source of heat from Andrea's body, the persistent trembling that was a by-product of shock had all but stopped.

The pain had been bad enough during the night that Miranda had foregone her previous decree that forbade Andy from touching anywhere near the abdominal region. Andy knew Miranda thought the only reason Andy's hand was eternally attracted to her abdomen was because of the babies. But although it was true that had been a reason, Miranda was incorrect in thinking it was the sole one. It was any, any part of Miranda she could touch to provide comfort, or soothe pain or even convey simple affection. It might have been mushy, and she wouldn't voice it aloud to Miranda, at least not sober, but the thing she feared most, other than losing Miranda, was losing was the right to touch her, for any reason or purpose. She just didn't want Miranda to close herself off from that simply because she was no longer pregnant, and in and of herself didn't feel worthy of that affection because she had never been 'with' Andy when they hadn't known Miranda was pregnant. Their lovemaking had always included acknowledgement of that fact, and Andy had always felt that the acknowledgement of the babies when she touched Miranda's body, had made it easier for Miranda to be able to expose herself, always having the excuse of her body being changed by the babies, although Andy had never had any problem with any naked version of Miranda, because she knew she was luckier than millions, tens of millions of girls to get to be with this one woman. Because she wasn't just a woman, she was Miranda.

Miranda had pressed Andy's hand against her before hiding her face in the brunette's chest as she curled around the pain, her ability to appear stoic eroded by the long hours of pain. Like the earlier contractions she'd experienced during labour, these spasms had tightened her stomach into a hard ball under Andy's hand that she could feel even through the cloth she held to the clenching muscles Miranda had pulled her hand down to press against.

Now, unlike the unyieldingly hard ball of before, she could feel Miranda's stomach was soft beneath her hand and her expression peaceful in sleep now that the pain had lessened. She hoped this also meant the heavy bleeding had slowed down. The screens showing her blood pressure and other stats were stable, and there was some colour in her cheeks- not much, but some.

Another hour passed before Miranda started to wake. Her eyes opened, and without moving another muscle in her face, looked around her as if she weren't fully aware of where she was. But then, Andy saw realization dawn, and the older woman turned her face into Andy's chest with a very low groan, hiding her face below Andy's neck, just low enough for Andy's lips to reach her temple.

She began rubbing long strokes down the older woman's back. "Here's what we're gonna do. I'm not gonna ask how you feel okay? We can just lie here for as long as you need to and you tell me what you want to do, as long as it's one of the three following options. "See babies, only, only, only if you're feeling well enough to do so after your impromptu field trip last night, take a shower or call the girls, otherwise it's you, me and this luxurious dream bed."

"How are they?" Miranda rasped, lifting her head so that she could see the younger woman's face.

"Which babies?"

"I presume you would have told me upon awakening had there been any new developments with the babies, or at least I should hope so. Am I correct?"

Yep. She was definitely awake now. "Okay, you got me. You can ask them yourself though, we've got to call them now if we're going to catch them between classes."

Andy quickly had the phone on speaker and held it between them.

"Andy! Andy! How are the babies, how's mom? Are you coming home soon? Can we come see them?"

Andy laughed. "Hold on, I have someone who wants to say hi." She nodded at Miranda.

"Hello, my darlings. Has Andrea told you that you're big sisters?"

"Yeah, she told us when we were at dad's. So you're really, okay? Really, really?"

"Yes, bobbseys. Mummy's going to be fine, I promise."

"When are you and the babies coming home?"

"I hope to be home very soon, darling, as for the babies…" she trailed off delicately, not knowing how to explain the complicated situation, but as per usual, Andy jumped in and saved the conversation.

"Well you guys know that they came a few weeks early, so that means they have a bit of catching up to do and they're going to be here for a little while. We hope they're going to come home right on schedule for when they were supposed to get here. Do you remember how long that was?"

"Duh, Andy, we all know the answer is 40 weeks, but some babies are born before that and they come home straightaway!"

"We can take really good care of them here, we promise! We've been reading all about it."

"I know you would, and we tell the babies all the time what awesome big sisters they're going to have, but they need a lot of machines and medicines right now so they're going to stay put for a little while."

A sigh. "Okay. We've gotta get back to class now. Take lots of pictures, okay? We wanna show our friends how cute they are!"

"Wait," Andy laughed, "how do you know they're cute?"

As she looked at Miranda's expression in response to her statement she had a very good idea of what the expressions were on the two faces at the other end of the phone.

"Duh, Andy. Of course they're cute, they're Priestly babies!"

Andy wasted an entire minute cackling over this as Miranda rolled her eyes, unable to hide the smirk at her daughters' response.

"So you'll send them, right?"

"We promise, okay guys? Be good!" Andy chuckled as she ended the call.

"What next my queen?

"I want to see them, but…I, I need to shower first."

"No problem," Andy carefully waited for Miranda to lift herself off of Andy's chest so she could get up. But after Andy helped her out of bed Miranda paused as she saw the younger woman intended on going with her.

"Andrea." Right out of the park, the tone was deadly and far too formal. "Your assistance for personal care is no longer required…"

That sounded way too much to a sleep-deprived Andy like the dismissal Miranda was never able to give in Paris and it terrified Andy that perhaps she was giving it now. She forgot the promises Miranda had made to her and snapped. "Don't give me that crap!"

On 3 hours sort-of sleep, Andy was over-emotional and on a very short fuse. "After everything, everything we've been through you are going to turn around and use that on me? At this point in our relationship that is an insult! You are not even supposed to be up. Do you remember what last night was like?"

She took another breath with every intention of continuing, but her natural skill at reading Miranda kicked in and Andy saw past the stiff posture and haughty expression. They were defensive moves, and Andy's stomach dropped as she took in the fact that Miranda apparently felt she needed to defend herself against, against her? No, no, no, that was so wrong. Worse, she recognized the look in Miranda's eyes. That was the look she had when she had been dealing with Stephen, trying to explain why she had missed yet another dinner. Wounded by his inability to understand, guilty knowing that she, in part was responsible for the breakup of a marriage she had orchestrated.

Shit, damage control time. Andy groaned internally, realizing she had been a bully. Miranda had needed her, trusted her to make decisions for her when she was all but incapacitated. But now she needed her in a different capacity, as a partner once again, that she could lean on without giving up her own free will.

She amended her words, starting with the most important thing and what she wanted Miranda to never forget. "I love you. I love you more than I have ever loved anything in my life and sometimes I don't know how to deal with that. I don't want to make everything a fight, Miranda. We're going to have fights about much bigger things than a shower, so can you just accept that I want to make sure you're okay because you really, really scared the crap out of me." Andy's voice cracked as if on cue, but it was entirely authentic as she looked past Miranda to the monitors that she had stared at all night, remembering the last time the numbers spiked and she had nearly lost the older woman and became a single mother of four at twenty-nine years old.

This last piece of emotional blackmail worked and Miranda exhaled shakily, still holding on to the collar of her robe, but the eyes that glared back were once more a clear blue with no storm beneath, and Andy swore to herself then that she would never be the cause for that look on Miranda's face again.

As for the shower, certain parts Andy did end up letting Miranda do herself because any approach from the brunette resulted in small exclamations of pain which she couldn't bear to be the cause of just to prove a stupid point that she thought she was needed, and she admitted to herself that there were ways in which she couldn't help Miranda or stop her from hurting.

Similarly, Andy realized any offer to do her hair or makeup was ridiculous, so she sat on the bed and watched Miranda, the familiar routine soothing to watch as she pretended Miranda was 'Miranda' again and getting ready for work in their bedroom, but she wasn't. She was in the hospital, and despite her current entirely manufactured appearance, very, very sick.

Mercifully for their parents, there were few babies in the long-term care section of the NICU. Andy, and slowly Miranda, befriended a young couple who were parents to a chubby cheeked, brown eyed baby boy named Jason, who had been in the NICU since his birth several weeks ago and was on dialysis. Julie and John, his parents always asked about the babies and seemed genuinely interested imkn their wellbeing with no real knowledge of who Miranda was other than a powerful businesswoman.

Andrea hadn't missed the slight wince on Miranda's part at the triplicate moniker the three shared, all having J's for their first name, but it was a momentary twitch upon introduction, and even Miranda found herself enquiring about the health of the little boy and feeling genuinely concerned about the three-week old's condition, easily picturing her son in his place. She also entirely ignored Andrea's comment that she had done the same thing with all four of her children, which amusingly to the brunette, was apparently more acceptable by Miranda logic than having parents and children share a monogram.

Eventually Andy and Miranda came to learn that Julie was actually a Wall St. financial analyst adjacent to where Doug worked, and John was an architect. Cliché as it sounds, they had met when she had had her office redone and they joked any 'plans' John may have had for the rest of his life had gone out the window when he had fallen for the tough but lovely blonde. It was hard to picture her as that now though, her face, still relatively young, free of makeup and often knotted with worry although she did her best to conceal it in front of her husband. Her voice was soft and kind, reminding Miranda so much of her Andrea that she was helpless to fall under the couple's spell, even letting her guard down enough to tell them a little of the media frenzy that faced her when she left the hospital and allowed them to see the flicker of apprehension in the cool gaze as she spoke a little too casually about the ravening horde outside.

"Miranda, I understand, if not condone, their criticism of you on a professional basis, because you do live in the public eye. But this, how can they judge you with no basis at all to even speculate? What on earth do they know about what you've been through, and are going through?"

"I am a public figure, yes." Miranda nodded slowly, "and I have created through my work, and through my actions, a character who is very much disliked and dislikeable. I am harsh, and unforgiving, so it's only fitting that that behaviour be reflected back at me now, when they can sense, if not see, that I am at my most vulnerable.

"Miranda, if you show half the care to your girls that you do these babies, then I don't see how anyone could question your maternal side."

Unaware of just how brave she was being, Julie reached out and gently brushed the little hand poking out from underneath the drape of rose coloured cashmere beneath which the little girl was hidden, careful not to bump against the thin tubing that continued to supply a steady stream of oxygen, and smiled as the little fingers curled into a fist even as the baby's eyes remained shut in sleep.

"I have to go see if I can pry Jason away from John. They've formed an all-boys club over there," she shook her head ruefully, but her words were belied by the softness in her gaze as she watched her husband with their son.

"I don't know how I got so lucky. I never thought it would happen for me. I was already 33 when I met John. We dated for a year and then got pregnant with Jason so quickly after the wedding."

For several long moments, Miranda sized the other woman up in a manner that would have terrified anyone who knew what the expression meant, before she decided to do what Andrea would do and confide in the blonde with brown eyes so like Andrea's, that she shared with her son, who otherwise resembled his father.

"I as well," Miranda supplied softly.

"What do you mean?"

"I wasted a whole year after she left, with the man who would later assault me, and I was already pregnant by the time she came back. I understand, because I suppose…she makes me believe, foolishly perhaps, that a happy ending could be possible. She already made one possible," Miranda cringed at how sentimental that sounded, and hid her embarrassment by brushing her lips against the baby's head resting on her chest, feeling the featherlight drum of the little heartbeat against her own, thanking God, thanking Andrea, for her children. All of them. Although she loved Caroline and Cassidy every bit as deeply as these children, sometimes she hadn't quite known how to connect with them in ways other than granting their every wish for material possessions. That was different now. In truth, she felt she owed all of her children to Andrea. Which was a debt even she could not hope to repay and she knew the younger woman would never ask her to.

"I don't know what Andrea has told you about the pregnancy, or the events during, but you should know the only reason my son and daughter are here is because of her. Not only did she find me the night of the assault and ensure I received medical care, she spent every moment thereafter dedicated to the salvage and salvation of these infants, and to the redemption of their mother, who was wholly undeserving, especially after the way I treated her as my assistant." She told the younger woman frankly.

"Hmm," Julie hummed lightly, her gaze falling on the woman now walking towards them. "I don't know about that, but I know that if you ask Andy to tell that story from her point of view, that her gratitude to you extends just as deeply. You've given her everything she has ever wanted, and from her telling, everything she never knew she needed."

Grateful as she was for the young woman's words, Miranda's attention was captured by the younger woman who was walking their way, a familiar smile splitting her face and chasing the shadows from beneath her eyes.

Something was off though. Miranda could sense it, and she excused herself from Julie as she walked forward to meet her, noticing one thing straightaway.

"Where's Christopher?"

The smile dimmed slightly, and her eyes lost some of their light.

"That's why I came to get you. He's back in the bassinet, they're just watching him. His heart monitor is showing a more frequent occurrence of the arrhythmia, and," Andy took a breath and mussed her bangs slightly as she tried to get her emotions under control without scaring Miranda. She took in the older woman's expression. Too late. "In addition to the anomaly in his heartbeat, Dr. Jansen is hearing a secondary murmur that was hidden by the arrhythmia before. That, or his condition has deteriorated further over the last day or so." She tried to remember the exact phrasing the expert had used.

"What are they proposing?" Miranda's hold on their daughter tightened slightly as she began to walk, with Andy's hand resting at the small of her back as an extra measure of support just in case, towards 'their corner' of the nursery and towards the physician waiting there who was pursing her lips in a slightly Miranda-like fashion as she eyed the monitors.

"Well?" Miranda regarded the other woman evenly, although her own heart felt as though it kept skipping beats.

"I'm getting a secondary opinion from the Chief Cardiac surgeon, and a pediatric surgeon specializing in children's cardiac surgeries."

"Is there someone else we should be consulting? Is there anyone in this country, or out if need be, who is more qualified to handle these matters?"

"Miranda, you chose this hospital for a reason. I'm only sorry that your reasons seem to be coming true. But rest assured, I am going to do everything I can for Christopher. I helped bring him into this world, even if Andy was the one to deliver him, and I'll be damned if he's going out on my watch. But…we are going to need to perform the first of the surgeries sooner than I would have liked."

"The first…" Miranda repeated softly, even though she had known as much.

"Can we still hold him?"

Miranda faintly registered the voice above her shoulder as belonging to Andrea.

"Absolutely, we just need to keep him attached to the monitors at all times now. No more extended field trips. Any tachycardia that lasts longer than a few seconds, we take him in. I'm going to need permission to do that even if you aren't here, Miranda, and Andy you too although technically, you don't have any say in their care legally."

"What?" Miranda tried to think back to when she thought she had granted parental rights, surely she had…Ah, her mind cleared and the answer settled. They had had plans to do that as soon as the babies were born. But seeing that Miranda had nearly bled out directly following the birth, and the fact that the babies needed special care immediately, it had somehow been overlooked. Unacceptable.

"Where are the papers? I want to sign immediately. Andrea needs authority to make any decisions regarding their care should I be absent or otherwise unable."

The enormity of that statement truly hit Andy for the first time, now that the babies had been born and they were real, and so vulnerable.

"Miranda, are you sure?"

Miranda actually looked slightly irritated as she turned towards the brunette.

"Did I not propose with the intention of making you my wife? Do you think I would have made such a proposal had I not considered the consequences? Am I to believe that the sentiment of that thought was lost on you? That I had not considered the possibility that should I die in pregnancy or childbirth, that I would want you to have parental rights over the babies? Who else would I 'leave them to'? Who else is there? There is not, Andrea. There is no one else. Do you think I would have been so careless in making decisions that concerned the life of the four children I would leave behind? Many times I was certain that was to be the case. And now am I to believe that you didn't understand the meaning of all of this? Was my proposal so immaterial? Just a pretty ring to wear on your finger?

Overtired, and overwhelmed, tears were streaming down Andy's cheeks now, silently, and she shook her head. "No," she whispered hoarsely. "I'm sorry, Miranda. Anything, anything that I value in this life I would want you to have. I just, I can't believe you would trust me with something…so precious. Not only these babies, but the girls."

"Andrea, I have always trusted you. Think back to when you were my assistant. You always performed the most…intimate, of tasks."

"I thought that was just the second assistant's job, I thought Emily -"

"Emily never came so close as I let you, and when I held back and distanced myself, it was never because I didn't trust you or think you worthy. I didn't trust myself. You were, are, so young and so lovely, I have always thought you deserved more than a proud, foolish old woman. It almost seems unfair to you that I even ask this of you."

"No, Miranda," Andy stepped forward, as close as she could without squishing the baby still tucked into Miranda, and used both hands to bring Miranda's face to hers in front of the rest of the ward.

Miranda could taste the honest salt of her tears and still existing in a realm of heightened emotions would have responded with her own as they were so close to the surface these days, had she not been poignantly aware of the fact that Dr. Jansen was still standing a few feet away, next to her son who needed her attentions.

"Have I made myself perfectly clear on the subject?

"Yes, Miranda."

After Dr. Jansen's professional assessment, Miranda's attentions turned back to her son once they were alone. "Andrea, I, I know what I just said. And I suppose it seems unfair to ask. I…I need some time alone with him. I'm…sorry" Miranda began to apologize and Andy waved her off. Miranda's words might have been stilted and stiff, but Andy knew otherwise, from the tension in her shoulders to the blue of her eyes that seemed to beg for her to understand though a word would never cross her lips. And Miranda begging was so wrong, especially in these circumstances.

"Hey, it's okay. We just had this talk, remember? I trust you, and I trust us. I'll be fine, I'll go and have snuggle time with Cora. Go sit in the rocker and I'll bring Chris to you okay?" Andy suggested, knowing Miranda still couldn't lower herself into the rocker and hold the baby at the same time. "How 'bout you, is it time for some more Advil?"

The older woman had foregone the proffered heavy-weight drugs in order to breastfeed, and as a result could feel her body's protest at the removal of two certain things. "Some more perhaps, but later, and Andrea…"

Andy turned around, expecting Miranda to say thank you.

"Our son's name is Christopher."

Andy rolled her eyes skyward and held up her hands. "I'll sell you on it yet, Priestly."

She was back less than a minute later carrying a tiny bundle wrapped in a cotton blanket with blue rabbits on it that Miranda had subsequently informed her were not blue, but in fact 'periwinkle'.

"You know where I'll be. Just yell."

Miranda arched an eyebrow slightly. As if she ever yelled for anything. As it was, the back of her throat still ached from the screams that had been torn from it during the birth, such an outburst foreign to her body.

But none, none of the aches that remained from the birth mattered even as they seemed to multiply a thousandfold as Miranda gazed down into the face of her son hungrily, her throat aching worse than ever as she kept back the tears that threatened every time she now envisioned someone cutting into the chest of the baby in her arms. Her baby, how could this have happened, what could she have done? The same questions that had haunted her pregnancy returned in full force as she willed whatever strength she had left into her son. How cruel it was that it seemed he would be the one to pay for her crimes, her mistakes, her inability to grow them the way they should have.

"I'm sorry. My Christopher, my love, forgive me. Forgive me mon coeur."

As she walked away from Miranda, an ache begun in Andy's throat as well. She knew the older woman thought she couldn't hear her, but she had always been able to hear Miranda. Even at her most quiet, her most deadly, Andy had always been the one to hear her commands and share them with the team, who would inevitably be trying to piece together the fragments they heard into a sentence that would tell them how to keep their jobs.

She blinked back the tears for whom Miranda's voice was ever a siren and continued, knowing her interference in that moment would be just that, interference. So instead she fixed her gaze on the little girl in the bassinet who weighed little more than 5 lbs. soaking wet.

"Hello, miss. Did you want to come for snuggles with mama?" With a motion that was beginning to feel practiced, Andy lifted the little wriggling body and quickly tucked her into the shelter of her clothing before the warmth of the heated bassinet was missed.

"Hi sweetpea. You're going to hang out with me for awhile, okay? I know, let's make a video for your sisters. They wanna meet you so bad, and they've waited so long. They're the ones who read you Harry Potter when you were even littler than you are now."

Andy arranged the drape of her custom designed Chloe jacket momentarily so that the baby could be seen through the camera lens.

"Say hi Caro, hi Cassie," Andy let her cheek rest lightly on the little head as she swayed back and forth talking to the camera. "Say look, I'm getting bigger. I'm one day closer to coming home." It was as much truth as Andy could give with any surety. They still didn't know when the babies would be coming home, and in the time-sucking vortex of endless night, it sometimes felt as though they would always be there. But Miranda would leave, even if it was sooner than she would have liked to see, knowing the older woman's condition for what it truly was, instead of what the doctors were permitted by Miranda to see.

Andy knew, as she always had she reminded herself, that Miranda would go back to work. But in her head, that had always been after the babies were home, and healthy. Part of her wondered how Miranda could leave, but she never let herself complete those thoughts. She knew who Miranda was, she fell in love with her for it, not in spite of it like every other spouse Miranda had had. And she couldn't, in any sense of the word, ever say that Miranda didn't love these babies. That much couldn't be questioned. No woman would have gone through what Miranda had without loving these babies ten times more than herself. The pain and humiliation Miranda had had to endure in order to have them Andy would have thought was nearly unbearable, especially for her, and on top of that she had had to do it all in the public eye and in doing so, link herself to Stephen when she would rather have seen him dead. No, Miranda loved these babies without a doubt. But Miranda was also Miranda.

Across the room, Miranda looked down at her son, one finger on each of her hands kept captive by a much smaller one belonging to the baby in her lap.

Big blue eyes looked up at her that she knew from her own reflection, and even though she knew they couldn't focus yet she would swear she recognized the look in his eyes.

No one but her girls had ever looked at her like that, at least before Andrea, but now this baby looked up at her as though she was his whole world, like she could do anything. And more than anything, she wished she could. She would give, gladly, anything to be able to fix that heart whose beat had once been connected to her own. She wished her heart could beat for him now. But that was the problem with wishing, she told herself. It didn't lead to anything. It was a wholly unproductive behaviour.

She continued to rock, ignoring the discomfort, and the baby's eyes blinked shut sleepily. She was so completely focused on the rise and fall of the little chest that she barely noticed the careful approach of the brunette, and only really became aware of her presence when an even smaller bundle was placed beside the one on her lap. It wasn't lost on her that there was room for two babies only because they were so small. Instinctively, her arms came around both, but both women stopped all action besides breathing as they watched as the two squirming bundles instinctively turned to face each other, 'reuniting' for the first time after the birth.

As was quickly becoming her signature trick at not even a week old, Cora freed an arm from the swaddling, but now she stretched it out towards Christopher who had had his hands free in the first place. And Miranda could only watch, stunned as the two babies reached out for each other, only truly settling once one had a hand on the other, much like they would have looked while still in the womb.

Miranda couldn't look away, and her voice was so quiet that Andy would have thought she was talking to herself again if she hadn't referenced her directly by name.

"I can't lose them, Andrea."

"We won't. You trusted me when I said those same words when we found out you were carrying these babies, so trust me now, Miranda. We. won't. lose. them. So many times I thought I would lose you. But you came through, and I didn't have to know what that loss felt like. And these babies, they're a part of you, they have your blood, your strength in their veins. They've already come through so much. Don't doubt that they aren't every bit as amazing as you, even if you're doubting yourself."

As she always did, so quickly Miranda remembered herself. "I apologize, at my age this insecurity is entirely unbecoming."

Andy heard the self loathing in the sub vocal tone and she quickly intervened before it could go further.

"Miranda, it doesn't matter that you're fifty. It doesn't matter that you've had twins before, you're a new mother. You gave birth less than two days ago. You're not even supposed to be out of bed! I just offered that as a choice this morning because I knew you had already made up your mind. You're still getting used to having them outside of you. Of course they were easier to protect in the womb, but they had to be born, it was time. Your body knew it was time, now your brain has to catch up."

But Miranda's mind was once more, a million miles away, her attention caught as two little faces looked up at her now, both with that trustful gaze that made her chest ache because she knew, despite Andrea's belief, she could not do anything. In fact her current unexpected weakness made her question if she could do anything at all. Perhaps when she left this godforsaken place, with every monitor and doctor spelling out exactly what she couldn't do. She didn't care about authority, or science, no one told Miranda Priestly she could not do something. No one, told her 'no'.

After 8K words, don't I deserve a line or two? I know, begging is unattractive - but it took me such a long time to get this chapter out I need motivation to do it again! Things get a little sticky going forward... Anyway, I'm paranoid about the quality of my writing in this and the next couple chapters because I DID find it harder to write, so let me know if it's ruining the story and I'll go back to the drawing board. LOTS of love! xo - TLH