Corruption, Purity and Desire - (2/14)
Title: Corruption, Purity and Desire
author: ragelikeafire
rating: r
pairing: andy/miranda
Disclaimer: The Devil Wears Prada does not belong to me. No infringement intended to Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox. All characters are purely fictional. Thanks to various crime fiction for the inspiration behind the dialogue.
Summary: Two and a half years after leaving Runway; Andy Sachs is now working as an investigative journalist for a New York newspaper. Miranda Priestly continues her reign as The New York Fashion Queen, but under the surface the cracks are beginning to form. The unfortunate events of one cold winter’s evening force them to face the unrelenting demon that hides in the shadows. When do you run and when do you stand your ground?
WARNING: There are some scenes of violence and heavy language. If you are easily offended or squeamish I DO NOT suggest that you read this!
AN: Your comments have been fantastic. Please keep them coming!
A/N2: Edited (03 Jan 2011)
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Part two
The cell phone rang out, finally diverting to voicemail after what seemed like an eternity. Miranda Priestly did not nearly need to leave messages; she normally had people falling over themselves to take her call. But, at this moment she was not Miranda Priestly, she was just a desperate woman left at the mercy of voicemail. Miranda took a deep breath for composure, before leaving her message, requesting that Mr. Eddie Curran return her call immediately. The tone of her voice left no question of what would happen if he didn’t.
Patience was wearing thin as she dialled the office number, where she was greeted with a sickening Christmas melody. She rolled her eyes and entered the direct extension number, which Emily had magically obtained, into the keypad.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eddie Curran’s line had been ringing off the hook since his call with Andy had ended. He was exhausted and his body was craving nicotine. He had not seen this coming; he felt a pang of guilt rise in his stomach as he thought about his next move. Reaching into his top drawer, he pulled out a half-empty bottle of Johnny Walker and poured a double shot into a tumbler. As the searing liquid hit his throat he felt short wave of relief, he was about to take a second hit when his long-suffering assistant stormed into his office.
“Put that down Chief, you’re gonna wanna take this.” She took the bottle from his hand and lifted the receiver from its cradle.
“Come on, cut me a break Glenda. Unless it’s the fucking DA, it can wait!”
“Not this boss.” She answered, offering him the receiver. “I’ve got Miranda Priestly on line three. She is demanding to speak with you.”
“Fuck me, what does that crazy Brawd want?"
“She wants you Chief…” She smirked. “…and when the Dragon Lady says jump, the world says how high?”
Curran pulled the bottle back from his assistant’s hand and poured another generous shot. He knocked back the liquor in one gulp and released the hold on line three. “Miranda, it’s been a long time! Are you well?” He grimaced.
“Enough of the pleasantries, Mr. Curran.” Miranda retorted. “Andrea Sachs.” She stated abruptly and paused again. A sudden blankness appeared in her brain, realising that she hadn’t actually thought about what she was going to say.
“What do you want Miranda?” Curran closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. ‘Who did this woman think she was?’ He thought.
“I…how…” Miranda answered, uncharacteristically fumbling over her words.
Curran sighed like an impatient child. “They took her to North General, on Madison. I spoke to the Doctor around thirty minutes ago. He said she was stable but not out of the woods yet.”
Curran’s words slowly began register and Miranda sat up rigidly on her car seat, lifting a hand she rubbed her furrowed brow. “What?” She breathed.
“Look, Miranda.” He sighed. “Can we save what ever spit roasting you are about to perform on me until the daylight hours, I’ve had a really fucking shitty day.” He paused and waited for the after-shock of his outburst.
“B...but…” Miranda fumbled again over her words. “The news said that she had been fatally wounded?” Miranda questioned, trying to convince herself that she had heard the crass little man correctly.
“I know, fucking amateurs?” He laughed awkwardly and then cleared his throat. “It’s still touch-and-go; we are all praying she makes it through the night.” He looked up as his assistant, Glenda re-entered his office with a steaming hot cup of coffee and placed it on his desk. He nodded gratefully at her and put the whisky back in his drawer.
“What about her family? Her boyfriend? Is someone with her?” Miranda rambled, still trying to take it all in.
Curran’s tone softened as he sensed Miranda’s distress. “We can’t reach her parents; with the number she has on file. One of my copy girls, recalls Andy talking about a second honeymoon in Europe. But, she pretty much keeps herself to herself. I don’t have any other numbers listed for her. We’ve already given all this information to the police.”
Miranda was still processing the fact that the young woman was alive. A million thoughts were whirling around in her mind and she held on tight to the hope that, maybe it wasn’t too late. “Thank you Mr. Curran.” Spoke calmly and sincerely. “I appreciate your time. My assistant will be in touch.” With that, she released the call and lowered the privacy screen from the backseat of the town car. “Roy, North General Hospital. Emergency room. Now!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The rain was merciless and added unnecessary minutes on to what should have been a simple ten-minute journey. Roy had run through a red light, praying to God that they didn’t get pulled over. The tickets were not the issue, but the volatile atomic bomb in the back of his Mercedes was a different story.
As they pulled up outside the E.R, Miranda was out of the car before Roy had the chance to release his seat belt.
“Would you like me to wait Ms. Priestly?” Roy called as he jumped out the car. Miranda threw her hand in the air dismissively.
“Go home Roy.” She called over her shoulder, before entering the building.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Miranda detested hospitals. It was the smell; the rotten stench of illness and death, which was poorly masked by industrial strength disinfectant.
It was not long after midnight and the Emergency Room was fairly busy for such a late hour. However, there was peaceful hush surrounding the waiting area. The harsh sound of stilettos reverberating on the linoleum floor broke the quiet as Miranda approached the reception area.
Every head in the room lifted in her direction, eyes staying trained to the spot as if they had been hypnotised by the vision before them. After all, it was not every day that mere mortals were graced with the presence of the Queen of Fashion. Her ensemble consisted of a figure hugging Donna Karan pencil skirt, a black and gold silk fitted shirt which clung perfectly to her torso and five-inch gold Manolos Blahniks all of which were still as immaculate as the moment she had put them on. The beautiful black fur wrap adorning her shoulders complimented her pure white skin and a custom-made scent her aided her Stilettos in signalling her arrival to the room like a philharmonic orchestra.
The medical staff behind the reception desk appeared to physically cower as she approached. Miranda scanned the group of people behind the counter and locked eyes with a plump middle-aged woman in white scrubs.
“Can I help you Ma’am?”
“Andrea Sachs.” Miranda clipped.
The nurse had dealt with many ill-mannered members of higher society in her time and simply took the command in her stride. She entered the name into the computer and winced slightly, as she took in the information presented to her.
“I’m sorry Ma’am, Ms. Sachs is not able to accept visitors today” The Nurse advised, preparing herself for the inevitable battle.
Miranda pursed her lips and took a deep breath, preparing to strike. “Are you deaf or just stupid? I would like Andrea Sachs room number, please! Or, do I need to request to see your supervisor?” She fixed her glare with the nurse, who didn’t waver. ”Supervisor it is then, move it along. I don’t have all night."
“Can I take your name please Ma’am?”
Jotting down the name the nurse sighed and spoke to a tiny mouse-like Intern-who jittered as if she had recently knocked back four double espressos in a row-instructing her to page the Attending Doctor.
The nurse lifted a hand and directed her open palm to the waiting area, silently suggesting that Miranda take a seat.
“I do not suggest that you keep me waiting long.” Miranda forewarned, followed by a pursing of her lips as she turned to the seating area.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Several minutes later, Miranda watched through on the other side of the glass security doors, as a young doctor leisurely sauntered down the corridor in his dark blue scrubs. She heard the tattered sneakers squeak on the linoleum surface and felt the anger rising from pit of her stomach, disgust at his obvious disregard for the situation at hand. He stopped briefly behind the reception desk, where she observed him talking with the steely woman with whom she had spoken to minutes earlier.
“Ms. Priestly?” He called over the desk, “I am Doctor Chowdry. Please could you follow me?” The nurse pressed a button and the glass security doors hissed open, allowing Miranda to follow him into a room along the corridor. “I believe you have requested to see Andrea Sachs, Ms. Priestly?”
Miranda nodded. “Yes, I would like you to make that happen. I understand that the situation is volatile however; I have spoken with her employer; who informs me that you have been unable to contact her family. It is unacceptable for her to be alone.”
“Ah, yes. Mr. Curran called to war... erm. I mean, notify me of your impending visit. I have to say Ms. Priestly, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect after my phone conversation with him.” He smiled nervously, but Miranda did not and so he continued. “You are correct, we have been unable to reach her next of kin, and I understand that you were her former employer, were you close?”
“She was my assistant.” Miranda stated and when she did not expand on the fact the doctor continued further.
“The hospital rules stipulate that, only family members are allowed to visit a patient on the trauma ward. However, considering that she is alone and the large contributions you regularly donate to our neo-natal unit, I’m willing to treat this as an exception.” Miranda nodded again in response. “We have a security detail from the police department, their internal affairs team have been assigned, to ensure her safety.
“What do mean ensure her safety?” Miranda quizzed.
The Doctor studied Miranda’s puzzled face for a few seconds. “I apologise Ms. Priestly. I assumed that you would know how Ms. Sachs came to be here. Please come with me, I’ll take you to the room.”
“Wait, what happened Doctor?”
“All I can tell you at this stage Ms. Priestly is that she was shot. She has been through an extremely traumatic ordeal. I feel that I need to prepare you, before you see her. She lost consciousness before the EMT’s arrived on the scene. She was taken straight into surgery and we were able to retrieve the bullet, thankfully, it did not hit any major arteries. She has lost a massive amount of blood, so we had to give her several transfusions. There was a minor complication during the surgery with some fluid leakage, causing her lung to collapse; meaning we had to insert a chest tube and intubate her, so she is heavily sedated at the moment. Her body has taken quite a shock, believe me when I tell you that she was lucky, another inch down and that bullet would have hit her heart.”
The doctor reached out and placed his large hand over Miranda’s, cloaking the soft white skin beneath. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. Processing the information, she looked into his eyes for the first time and saw genuine compassion before she gently pulled her hand away.
“Can I see her now please?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Emerging from a maze of corridors, they arrived on the trauma ward. Miranda spotted the police guards immediately. There was one man at the end of the hall and another on a chair outside one of an unmarked room. The fashionista had attended hundreds, if not thousands of functions over the years, she could spot a bodyguard a mile off. These plain clothed brutes were no exception
As Miranda and the Doctor approached the unmarked room, the seated man stood and spoke with gusto. “Hey Doc, what do we got here?”
Watching the doctor’s face, Miranda spotted a slight cringe, before he responded. “Sergeant Reynolds, this is Miranda Priestly, she is here to visit our patient. I have cleared this with the Chief, its ok.”
“Well then.” The Sergeant smirked as he turned his attention to Miranda, “Ma’am, I’ve gotta frisk you before I can let you be here.”
Miranda scoffed. “You will not lay one Neanderthal paw on my person! I am willing to let you search my purse, but if one grubby digit comes near me you will be finding yourself on a career downturn.” She extended her arm, holding out the one of a kind Marc Jacobs bag to the officer, who curled his lips in amusement.
“Oh I love a feisty Woman Doc!” The officer shoulder bumped the Doctor and Miranda watched the young man cringe again, this time not so subtly.
She held her tongue, knowing this would go faster without retaliation or further witticism. He rummaged in the bag for a few seconds, manoeuvring around the hard ring-bound book, phone, keys and numerous cosmetics, before handing it back to her with bumptious retort. “All done here.” He smirked.
The Doctor took Miranda gently by the elbow and led her into the private room. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the dimmed lights as he closed the door behind them. Her ears filled with a series of harmonious sounds, the beep of the heart monitor, closely followed by ping of the arterial line and the regulated push of the ventilator. Miranda could not stifle the gasp that escaped her lips as she caught sight of the room’s sole occupant. She moved closer to the edge of the bed, absorbing the image before her.
Miranda’s emotions were running away with themselves and she found herself questioning her sanity.
What am I doing here? What could I possibly hope to achieve? We’ve not spoken her for over two years and let’s face it, that last liaison did not end well. Will she even want me here? Oh but, two years later and still thinking about her, dreaming about her. She touched my soul; I can’t carry on like this. I can’t lose her again, I won’t...
Dr Chowdry cleared his throat snapping Miranda out her trail of thoughts. “I assume you will want to stay with her through the night?” Miranda nodded without hesitation. “Very well, the nightshift will check on her every fifteen minutes, I’ll ask Nurse May to bring you some blankets, so we can try to make you as comfortable as possible. She will help you with anything you need.”
Miranda didn’t acknowledge his farewell; she had already slipped back under spell of the cadenced machines and the scene before her. Andrea’s beautiful Alabaster skin was now a translucent grey. Her head was tilted back exposing her long neck but it was somewhat spoilt by the central line piercing the skin. A repugnant plastic tube pressed tightly between her full lips which aided the rise and fall of her chest. Miranda instinctively reached out and held a warm limp hand, moving her thumb over Andrea’s soft skin in rhythmic circles.
A painful realisation dawned on Miranda. This was the first time she had physically touched the object of her affections. Yet, sadly this was not how she had imagined it would be.
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Andrea Sachs used her writing as escapism, a way of feeding her ravenous imagination and ingenuity. In the real world she lived her day to day life surrounded by routine and familiarity; home comforts were her anchor.
She was not a morning person, every morning she would rouse to a cacophony of amalgamated sounds around her apartment and building. The ancient water pipes groaning, the clacking heels on the laminated flooring in the apartment above her and the low hum of the city traffic outside her window. All these sounds brought to crescendo by her alarm clock, it was a rough unwelcomed coercion to open her eyes, but it was nonetheless her routine.
This morning was different for her, something wasn’t right; she got the sense that this was not her apartment. Forcing her eyes open, Andy tried to focus in the dimly lit room, there was nothing familiar. ‘Where am I? What is that sound? And why is Miranda Priestly asleep in that chair?’ The endless questions ran through her mind, convincing her that she was trapped in some cruel nightmare.
Andy tried to sit up but found that she couldn’t move, she tried to speak but her mouth was blocked, she tried to scream but there was no sound. The steady beeping in the room became more and more erratic, alarms started screaming around her. When suddenly she saw a flash of movement in the corner of her eye and a figure rushed to her side… ‘Miranda?’