Chapter 57: Not There Yet

[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...



Happy (Canadian) Thanksgiving! Hoping you are thankful for this update. I’m super grateful for you and you willingness to continue with me on this journey, which is SOMETHING to right now distract from U.S. politics...

Although they were still reeling from the news of Christopher’s impending surgery, Miranda had agreed to the most loyal of her Runway staff coming to see the babies. Nigel, Emily and Serena had been invited by an over the moon Andy as they had been the third call after the second bitterly disappointing one with her parents that she still had yet to tell Miranda about.

Now they were on their way up, with the ‘excuse’ of bringing a new set of ‘Skin to skin therapy/nursing friendly’ hospital couture for Miranda with her updated measurements, which only, only Nigel knew. Otherwise the clothes were entirely free of any incriminating tags. Miranda had accepted the news of their visit with a graceful nod of her head. She did, however, raise her eyebrow slightly at the news that all three were coming.

“How many Runway employees does it take to deliver clothing? My, my that does sound like the beginning of a joke...”

Andy rolled her eyes and smirked. “Miranda, be nice! They were so worried. Serena said she’s never seen Emily eat that much cheese in her life. And I think Nigel had his first cigarette in what 13, 15 years?”

“Yes, well. Both of those habits should perhaps be discontinued in the future.”

“Right, don’t get pregnant again.”

Miranda glared and Andy quickly fled the room with the excuse of bringing up the other three.

Serena was the first to speak, and clasped her hands over her heart, speaking mile-a-minute Spanish as a brilliant smile came to the already beautiful face.

“Los bebés son tan hermosos! Dios mío, son maravillosos! Oh, son tan pequeños y queridos…”

“Thanks Serena,” Andy too, was grinning ear to ear despite only understanding half of what Serena said.

Emily simply kept staring, saying nothing. But as Miranda’s keen eye noticed, her eyes glistened with tears she of course, would never in a million years acknowledge as she looked between the two infants and their proud parents.

“Miranda, they’re…they are truly beautiful.”

“Thank you, Emily.” Miranda’s reply was as quiet and reserved as ever, but her tone was soft as were her eyes.

“Well, well, well,” Nigel uncrossed his arms and hitched up the fabric of his checked Burberry trousers as he bent down in front of Miranda so that he was eye level with her lap and de facto, the babies.

“What do we have here. The newest Priestly troublemakers.”

Andy laughed at this, but the stare Miranda gave the shockingly well dressed man was deadly, and the message was perfectly clear. Not one iota of blame was to be placed on the babies, even in suggestion or jest, and Nigel quickly adjusted his tone.

“They are, as befitting their name, stunning.”

Andy just chuckled, wisely saying nothing and reaching for the smaller of the two babies.

“Lemme go put Cora back, she’s not supposed to be off the oxygen for very long, it drops her ox-sats.”

While the other were occupied in a brief exchange, Emily stepped to the side and gripped the Brazilian’s forearm with considerable strength.

“I’m English, we don’t even LIKE babies.”

“But…you are saying otherwise to Miranda?”

“No, yes - I don’t, I don’t know what’s happening.”

Serena nodded, immediately understanding exactly what the problem was that the redhead was trying and failing to explain.

“Shh, it’s alright querida, you’re just realizing what I have known all along. That you will be a fantastic mother when the time comes.”

“But…I don’t want to gain 50 pounds and look like a whale!”

“Then I will do the weight-gaining, no?”

“You’ll still be beautiful. Damn you.”

Miranda stayed seated, even though the babies were no longer on her lap. She had shown quite enough weakness in her opinion, and she didn’t want her employees, even if they were friends, to see that she needed Andrea’s arm to stand from the chair, only to be transferred into a wheelchair that would take her the short distance back to her room.

Once they were there, Andy turned down the sheets while Miranda changed in the bathroom, studiously ignoring the muffled gasps she knew the older woman was trying to keep from her.

Miranda emerged in her chosen night attire, and her hands played nervously with the tie of her robe, which Andy immediately noticed as strange, because Miranda hardly ever fidgeted nervously. She would play with her rings or belt or even earrings while she was talking to you in a way that made you feel as if you were boring her somehow, but not fidget anxiously like what she was seeing right now.

“Andrea, I need to apologize, for asking to spend time with Christopher alone,”

Andy cut her off, shaking her head so that her long ponytail flicked over each shoulder.

“Nope. Apology not needed. Once your breasts are no longer needed by anyone but me, then we’ll talk.” She winked before her tone grew more serious. “I get it Miranda. Or at least as close to it as I can without having given birth to them myself, okay? We’re good.”

Miranda was silent for a long moment before moving the locus of the discussion away from herself, choosing instead to focus on one of the two other things that possessed her mind so wholly at the moment.

“How was Cora?”

“She’s amazing.” Andy’s eyes grew misty and she shook her head softly like she didn’t know what to say. “She’s perfect. And I wish so much I could take this pain, this trial away from her, away from both of them. They’re so small. It seems unfair and I want so badly to see them grow and thrive and get past this so they can come home. So we can be together again, all of us.”

Blaming herself, as always, for their circumstances and their condition, Miranda felt a fresh wave of guilt rush through her, settling as it always did, as a knot in her stomach. “As do I.”

“Here, let me show you the video we made for Cass and Caro. Maybe we could do one with you and Christopher tomorrow before you have to put him back?”

Miranda’s expression was unreadable, but the storm clouds Andy could have sworn she could see swirling in her eyes disappeared as she watched the video of the baby, only to reassert themselves a moment later and she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.

“For the sake of cohesion, Andrea, perhaps it would be best if you filmed by yourself, alone with Christopher.”

“Come on, Miranda, it’s not only the babies the girl want to see. It’s you they miss the most.” Andy weighed the pros and cons of releasing more information before she spoke again.

“You never asked what the girls’ response was when I called to tell them the babies had been born.”

Miranda didn’t reply, only kept an even gaze on the brunette, her expression still unreadable. Waiting.

Andy’s mind moved back to that moment, and she paused before speaking, needing Miranda to realize how important a part she played and how vital she was to the happiness of the people that loved her. Because she was. Everything, she was everything. Without her as the impetus, none of the gears around her could hope to work.

Slipping out of the delivery room for a moment, Andy spared a long look down the hall to the nursery where her son and daughter were. Her son and daughter. She was a mom, and Miranda was alive, Andy relived the moment each of the babies had been born and it felt like an electric jolt as in her mind’s eye she saw Christopher, and then Cora slide into her hands, the weak cries seeming like canons to ears that had been waiting for 8 months to hear that sound. And then to hear Miranda’s voice, weak too, and hoarse from hour on end of struggle, ultimately ending in a scenario where Andy thought she would never hear that voice again. But Miranda was alive, she reminded herself, she was.

Get it together, Sachs. She shook her head, and even though her fingers were trembling slightly she managed to find the right number and lift the phone to her ear, waiting only half a ring until she heard the only other two voices that could mean as much her as the infants, and the woman in the next rooms.

“Andy! What happened?

“Are they okay? Is mom okay? I thought you weren’t gonna call, it took so long!”

“Hey…guys, shhh, relax. Baby, breathe; everyone is fine. The babies were born about a half hour ago and they’re doing really good even if they’re little, and your mom is okay. She’s really tired but she’s okay.”

She had expected cheers and yelling, knowing the girls had been so excited right before the birth. But instead, her answer wasn’t met by cheers like she had expected, but by tears, and from the sounds of it, a lot of them.

“No, baby. Shhh, it’s okay. Girls, girls, everyone is okay, it’s good news.” The sound of crying grew further away and a man’s voice came over the line.

“Andy? It’s Jeremy. I know the girls really wanted to hear from you, and I’m so glad Miranda is alright” Andy could hear the honest relief in his voice, “but it might be a good idea to call back later once they’ve had a chance to settle down. I haven’t been able to get them to sleep for more than an hour since they got here yesterday.”

“Oh. Okay, sure. Please tell them we love them.”

“Will do, talk to you later, Andy and, ah, tell Miranda that I’m, I’m glad she’s okay.”

Now even his voice was rough with emotion as he ended the call.

Andy wandered back into the dimly lit room, still lost in thoughts when a voice broke through from the darkness in front of her.

“How are they?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep? I hear that’s what people do after they’ve pushed a human being out of their body - and you did that twice!”

“You needn’t remind me.”

“I’m sure.” Andy pressed the button to lower the bed down, and watched Miranda’s face as she did so, not wanting the movement to cause any additional pain.

Any makeup Miranda had had on had been worn off before the birth by the numerous cold washcloths Andrea had held to her forehead and cheeks and neck time and time again, so patiently, wiping the sweat that beaded on her neck and chest, especially when she had been ill.

Andy thought of the pain that had been painted across the delicate features hours ago, and she pressed her lips lightly to Miranda’s forehead and the bridge of her nose, and finally her lips. Miranda’s eyes were hazy with the pain medication that she at last had allowed to be injected into her IV, and Andy stroked back the white forelock that lay limply across her forehead, hoping those blue eyes would close soon in sleep.

“All your babies are safe, Miranda. The two beautiful babies that came out of this belly today, and the two beautiful babies that came out of this belly eleven years ago.” Andy let her hand rest overtop Miranda’s where it lay across her stomach, knowing she was only getting away with it because Miranda was drugged to high hell.

“You can rest now, they’re safe, and you’re safe, you did it. Now please, sweetheart, sleep. You need it so badly, you were amazing today, well, and yesterday I guess. Wait,” Andy did the math in her head, the process taking a little longer than it normally would given the answer she was looking for would also be the same amount of time since she’d slept.

“Miranda, if you came to me at 1:00 and told me you’d been having contractions since you’d woken up that morning, then by the time you’d given birth to Cora, Jesus woman…Miranda you were in labour for almost 12 hours!” But Miranda’s eyes had closed and her breathing was already deep.

But aside from these memories, the happiness of the day was tainted for her because of what her next actions would be that stood out in her memory like an ugly scar…

Giddy with exhaustion, and the adrenaline still running through her veins, Andy had to stop herself from twirling in the hall. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw those two precious faces and Miranda’s, exhausted, but alive. On a whim, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number that had long been ignored, but that she still knew by heart.

“Mom! It’s me, Andy! Is dad there too?” She knew she was smiling too much, like a ‘weirdo’ as the girls would label it. But she had never had more exciting news to share, and although Miranda was the one who had to go through the labour, Andy was positively bursting with pride and she wanted to share it with the people whose opinion she had always cared about most.

“Yeah I think so, honey. Let me get him.” Andy heard her mother put down the phone and could hear her dad’s name faintly through the phone.”

“You’re both here? Ok. Mom, dad, you’re grandparents.”

“What? Oh Andy, you’re pregnant? That’s wonderful, honey, who’s the fellow? And don’t mind that you’re not married there’s time for that before the baby’s born. How far along are you?”

Exhausted as she was, it took Andy a moment to realize the excited voices weren’t for Miranda. They actually thought she had found someone else. Even after the scene at the townhouse, they thought she had left Miranda.

“What? Mom, dad, no!” Andy shook her head even though she knew they couldn’t see her. “No, Miranda had the babies. They were born about an hour and a half ago. They’re so beautiful, and she was amazing and”

“Andy - Andy stop! Are you telling me that you called to tell us that Miranda’s given birth?”

“Why would you call to tell us this? To upset your mother?” Her father’s gruff tone and the disgust she could hear in her mother’s voice even from over the phone took her breath away, and she held the phone to her chest for a moment as she tried to put words together, salvage the situation somehow by convincing them how happy she truly was.

“Why? Because my children were just born. We were so scared something would go wrong, and, and we would never get to meet them and…they’re your grandchildren, your first grandchildren.” Andy knew her tone bordered on whining, and she hated the pleading voice that came out of her mouth as if begging to be loved. But…she was already loved. She knew this unequivocally, and the truth suddenly hit her that if her parents truly felt this way, then Miranda’s love was enough. The overwhelming love she felt for their four children was more than enough to sustain her for the rest of her life.

As she raised the phone back to her ear, a decision had been made, although it saddened her deeply.

“Andy? Andy did you hang up? You will not abandon your family for the sake of some sado-sexual obsession with your boss. We raised you better than this.”

“Yes,” Andy whispered, “you did.” A tear slipped down her cheek, not of joy this time, but sadness. “I could never disown my family.”

“Oh Andy, thank God you’ve come to your senses.”

Andy cut them off. “Even though this hurts, mom, dad, more than you could know, this is still the easiest decision I’ve ever made. I will not disown my family to appease you. Miranda would never ask me to do this. That is just one of the differences between your definition of family and hers, she would never disown me, or forbid me.”

“Andy, don’t say that! We could never disown you, but to do this to our family?”

“Not our, your. Your family, not mine. My family are here in New York, all four of them, and every one of them have shown me more love and respect within the space of nine months than you have done in the last 10 years, even the ones who were born an hour ago.”

“So you choose to call us and openly defy us? You deny your upbringing, your faith?”

A sudden image of Miranda in her office after the first scan, praying that her children would be spared flashed across Andy’s mind and anger began to replace the sadness that sat like lead in her chest. Instead, as she listened to them, that lead became molten and turned to fire.

“My faith hasn’t changed. Meeting Miranda, it’s grown! I have never prayed more in my life than over the last eight months or needed to know that some greater power than me existed.”

“Andy you can’t think God would approve of what you’re doing?”

“I can and I do. In fact, I think he brought Miranda back into my life at exactly the right time for me, and for her. I won’t waste that gift. I won’t insult God by throwing away the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I can’t believe you would want me to do that. Your way, everyone gets hurt, and why? For what? Miranda makes me happy. She supports me, and she challenges me, and she wants what’s best for me. She would never ask me to do what you’re asking me to do. For all that you’ve wronged her, she would never ask me not to see you because she would know how much that would hurt me. If you saw what she went through today, you could never doubt her as a mother. She was amazing, even when things went wrong, she was so strong, and she put her trust in me, just like you never have. At her most vulnerable, in the most intimate way with the most important thing in the world to her…”

In her mind’s eye, Andy saw the moment Miranda had told Dr. Jansen in no uncertain terms, that it was Andrea who would deliver the baby and remembered the shock and awe and overwhelming love she felt as that baby slipped into her hands. Her daughter. She blinked back the image and continued.

“When I decided to pursue journalism, when I decided to move to New York, every step of the way you tried to pull me back and tell me what it was that would make me happy. And I, you know I can’t, I can’t waste my time doing this. This isn’t worth my time. Not when I could be with my children, who need me. Not when I could be with my wife,”

“What? Your wife? Andy, you haven’t, you haven’t married her, have -?”

“No. But as soon as I can, I will”

“And your children? Andy you’re deluding yourself if”

“They’re perfect, and they’re mine!” Andy screamed, clapping her hand over her mouth as she realized where she was, and wiping away the tears she hadn’t realized were streaming down her face.

“I would have thought as parents you would understand the need to protect your children, but right now, and I think for a long time, I think I need to protect my family from you, and I can’t tell you how sad that makes me.”

“But we’re,”

“No…you’re not, not anymore. Not in a way that matters. I have to get back to my family. I’m sorry I called, it won’t happen again.”

Andy lifted the phone from her ear, and very deliberately, pushed the button to end the call and wandered, feeling a little lost, back in to the intensive care suite.

Andy slumped into the chair next to Miranda who was so deeply asleep the only reason Andy could tell she was alive was the monitors she scanned hungrily through bleary eyes. But she couldn’t sleep. Image after image flashed across her brain of Miranda’s hands, bruising the creamy skin of her thighs, nails drawing blood as she pushed, the desperate gulps of air and the broken blood vessels around eyes filled with fear; an emotion that seemed so wrong when it came to Miranda but had been the predominant theme throughout her pregnancy and the trial. It seemed so wrong. It was so ‘un-Miranda’ and yet…it was. It was her. It was the parts of her she could never show to anyone other than her, Andrea. She couldn’t un-see those things, but nor was she sure she wanted to. Instead she could only lean forward, her elbows on her knees with one hand holding up her head as she watched Miranda’s chest rise and fall, just like she had with the babies, and will her to thrive.

Miranda was truly exhausted and nearly comatose after their brief outing. So while Miranda slept, Andy got to take over feeding duty for part of the night shift, by the time she got there Chris was fed and asleep, but she got there right on time for Baby B’s evening meal.

“Hi sweetpea. Mama gets to feed you today because you and your brother did a number on your mother. Yes you did. I’m so lucky I get all the snuggles today. And you’re doing so good, look at you” Using the hand holding the bottle, Andy brushed her pinky across a busily working cheek, round despite the featherlight weight of the little body. You’re a little champ, aren’t you. Mommy’s going to be so proud when I tell her. I’m sure you prefer when she feeds you though, huh. I would too if I was given the choice.” And it was true, Miranda’s post-pregnancy breasts were, in Andy’s opinion, ah-mazing.

“Hey, you got the whole bottle down, way to go champ!” Admittedly, the bottle was only an ounce, but Andy was celebrating every little milestone, knowing that for these babies they weren’t so little.

She was still extremely nervous burping the baby, concerned the fragile little body would break. But eventually, the small amount of spit-up she had collected on the burp cloth on her shoulder told her her gastrointestinal goals were accomplished.

Reluctantly, Andy passed her over to a NICU nurse, who lay her back down in the incubator and re-inserted the breathing tube, having to wake her to do it, and Andy cried with her daughter.

Because Miranda had chosen to breastfeed, Andy found that the same threats that had worked early on in Miranda’s pregnancy in convincing her to eat, worked just as well post-partum.

“Miranda, you’re breastfeeding. If you don’t eat, the babies don’t eat.”

Ha. That worked - the older woman’s eyes narrowed. ‘Victory!’ Andy cheered silently to herself as Miranda took a delicate bite of the fresh-caught Atlantic salmon on a bed of wild grains and quinoa with wilted kale. She thought back to Miranda’s stay in the hospital after the assault from Stephen.

She had been unprepared then, and had ultimately resorted to raiding the closest Starbucks for the few meals for which Miranda would be in hospital and she tried her best to come through on short notice. A fruit & yogurt parfait that, well yes, did contain more than 10 grams of sugar and had high-calorie granola heaped on top. A gourmet salad bowl with nuts, dried fruit, brown rice and dark greens that yes, did come with a dressing that had preservatives and no, was not prepared fresh. Still, Andy had done her best to ensure Miranda was eating properly during the early stages of pregnancy.

But Andy could have done better she knew, she HAD done better when she was Miranda’s assistant, able to anticipate almost her every need, and the fact that she couldn’t go back was painful. But the uncompromising directive from Miranda had meant that Andy not leave her side for longer than a bathroom trip, and that absolutely no one know she was there.

This time, she had been prepared. A handsomely paid UberEats messenger meant that any restaurant within a 5km radius with 5 stars or a Michelin rating was essentially on call at any time Andy should happen to phone and request a meal for Miranda. She had even consulted a nutritionist to discuss what foods Miranda should be eating that were either healing, anti-inflammatory or promoted milk production, this last one was important because in addition to Miranda nursing two babies who her body still hadn’t quite realized had been born, the NICU had requested a supply to keep on hand for feedings when Miranda wasn’t available for whatever reason or that took place when the NICU was otherwise closed.

In addition to worrying about the babies, worrying about Miranda eating, worrying about everything, Andy was concerned Miranda was moving too much. The babies weren’t allowed to be removed from the NICU, so they couldn’t be brought to Miranda’s room even for feeding. So if she wanted to see her children, to get them used to breastfeeding instead of simply learning to take a bottle all the time, Miranda had to dress, put on a full face of makeup and style her hair, which additionally only kept its shape if it was freshly washed. And as exhausting as it was for Andy to see that all these thing were available and accessible to Miranda, it was doubly so for Miranda herself, who was supposed to be resting and healing from what had been a traumatic birth for everybody involved and whose time would have been better spent trying to recuperate as much as she could, not trying to cover the imperfections that came from tiredness.

But although the expertly styled clothing and flawless makeup did much in the way of camouflage, it was patently obvious to the younger woman how it wore on Miranda. Day after day of constant performance, keeping up the act of stability and serenity, because that’s how she appeared day after . day in the nursery. But the little gasps when Miranda moved the wrong way, the slight sag in her shoulders and how deeply she slept when they returned to the room painted a different picture for Andy, who bit her tongue time and again watching the editor refuse to take care of herself. There had been hope, at least, of her doing so when she had been pregnant. But now that the babies were no longer inside her, Miranda easily discounted her health. Instead of sharing everything with the younger woman, so flawlessly lied and minimized her symptoms to Andy.

Andy tried to understand. Miranda had just undergone a life-changing event in which she was more open and more vulnerable than she ever had been. She had been scared, embarrassed, and in the process of giving birth exposed every insecurity that she, Miranda Priestly harboured in her soul. The protective instinct to close up and hide, to rethink and regroup was understandable, Andy told herself. But surely Miranda knew Andy was not the enemy, and that she would never exploit that delicate, vulnerable side Miranda had felt safe enough to show her while the two of them worked so hard to birth those babies, each in different ways. Surely she knew, she must.

Time passed strangely in the hospital. Days felt like nights and vice versa. Miranda was sleeping so much of the time Andy often felt at odds, even if she was constantly ‘on call’ herself 24 hours of the day. In the NICU, it was generally kept dim because the newborn’s eyes were so sensitive. There was no natural light, only special lamps to provide vitamin D which newborns were generally lacking, especially if they weren’t breastfed. Miranda fed Christopher as often as she was able as he had stabilized slightly since the ordeal of his birth, but Cora’s pulmonary scores were still touch and go, and Andy knew Miranda was silently fearful of another episode like the one shortly after her birth when the baby had started choking. She had spent plenty of time, however, touching and stroking the tiny limbs through the armholes in the incubator and would sit in the rocking chair the NICU had provided, giving as much skin-to-skin care as possible since she knew and they had been told repeatedly it was therapeutic for preemies.

Mercifully for their parents, there were few babies in the long-term care section of the NICU. Andy, and slowly Miranda, had 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 in 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, especially when she realized she had done nearly the same thing, but with her children instead of her spouse. Even Miranda found herself enquiring about the health of the little boy and felt genuinely concerned about the three-week old’s condition, easily picturing her own fragile son in his place.

Eventually Andy and Miranda came to learn that Julie was actually a Wall St. financial analyst and John was an architect. Cliché as it sounded, they joked, they had met when she had had her office redone and 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 too 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 knowingly or not, 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, they know nothing of what you’ve been through in here, how can they judge you?”

“They can, I assure you. They are...decidedly disgusting creatures who will feed on any fear they smell, and seek to destroy anything which makes them feel like lesser beings, which doesn’t take much.”

The baby in Julie’s arms squeaked, and the blonde pressed her lips to his cheek as she bounced and Andy smiled from where she was across the room, standing at Christopher’s cradle with John, at the softness she saw in Miranda’s eyes as she interacted with the mother and son pair.

Later, when they were alone, in their dim corner of the NICU, Andy looked down at the baby curled up on her chest and began to speak, softly so she didn’t wake the sleeping babies.

“These came out of you,” Andy shook her head, looking from infant to infant. “These little things were inside you.”

“I am eminently aware of that fact,” Miranda said with a touch of amusement even as she grimaced from shifting in the seat, extremely sore from having ‘these little things’ recently coming out of her.

“You’re amazing.”

“It was going to happen whether or not I wanted to actively participate.”

“But you did. You worked so hard to get these babies here and then everything it took to give birth to them. You’re amazing.”

“I believe you are suffering from a lack of sleep Andrea.”

“No, well, yeah, but no,” Andy fumbled her words as she really was suffering from a lack of sleep. But she was utterly sincere.

Andy didn’t know she would later look back at this moment and covet the lighthearted and loving  atmosphere and the easy silence between them, when everything, even when it was bad, was good. She had even learned a little more about Miranda’s past as they sat and talked with no other pressures on their time.

“They very much resemble my mother, full Irish. Although my features are similar I much more resemble my father except for my hair.”

That’s where the red hair comes from, and the freckles,” Andy said slowly.

“Hmm. Thank God, they didn’t inherit my father’s nose, as I did. I can’t tell yet if these babies will have it. Their features will change so much as they grow, especially since they’re starting out so small.

“Hey!” Andy looked over sharply at Miranda. “When we were choosing names, I suggested Cailee but spelled like Caelidh. That would have been perfect!”

Miranda shook her head. “They were so new, so fresh. How could I taint them with my past when I’d worked so hard to erase the shame of it from mine.”

“I wish you weren’t ashamed of who you were, Miranda, I’m not.”

“Between my parents, Jewish and Irish, I didn’t really fit in in any community, nor was I particularly welcome being a ‘mongrel’.”

Andy could tell that last word wasn’t really coming out of Miranda’s mouth as Miranda, it came from the mouths of those who had taunted and teased her for her parentage. It was no wonder Miranda had grown up as she had, an island unto herself.

“Miranda, you showed them, you showed everyone. Look at who you are and what you’ve done.”

“And yet, Miranda said softly, looking down at her daughter sleeping so peacefully on her chest. I may have sentenced them to the same fate as my parents did me, isolation by their peers because of who and what their parents were, are.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You need only look as far as Caroline and Cassidy, I know for a fact they are frequently teased by their peers because of who I am, because of what the papers print about me.”

“And it may not be fair, and you may wish you could take that burden away from them but you cannot deny it has also given them that same strength you possess. Look at how they coped during the trial. They are strong because they are your daughters, and they idolize you Miranda.”

“Then I have done them a greater disservice than I feared. And as for these babies, I prayed…”

She paused.

“I begged God that they would be safer once I no longer carried them, because their grasp on life was so tenuous when they were inside me. I believed that they would be, it was the only way,” Her voice broke slightly but she continued and Andy stayed silent, “it was the only way I could let them go. It was only into your arms that I could deliver them because with you, I knew they would be safe, safer than they would be with only me.

Andy’s mind was spinning with these revelations from Miranda, that came from those dark wells of thought she would never be able to touch unless, like now, Miranda permitted.

Andy watched Miranda rock with her daughter and wished, that as a journalist she could find the right words to reassure Miranda, to prove to her that she wasn’t alone. She could only take on the weight of these beliefs, so that two sets of shoulders bore the strain.

Only a few days later, Andy was biting her cheek so hard she could taste blood as she watched the exchange going on in front of her. Today was technically, technically the day the doctor had said Miranda might be able to go home. Might, Andy stressed the word in her mind as she looked between Miranda and the attending doctor, who was saying he would prefer if Miranda finished out the week in the hospital. However, Miranda evidently cared very little about what the doctor’s preference was, her preference was to go home.

t was her body, her decision, Andy reminded herself. But still, Miranda was still so weak. She wouldn’t let on in front of the doctor, but Andy knew for a fact the small details Miranda was hiding that might make a big difference. Small details like how gingerly Miranda walked when under her own steam, how she was still getting intermittent cramps and the bleeding hadn’t stopped to the extent she said it had, not to mention how fatigued even the short trips to the nursery made her. Still, Andy mentioned none of these things in front of the doctor, not willing to betray Miranda or speak for her. That would definitely not go over well, Andrea thought, pregnancy hormones or not. And Andy knew Miranda would see it as a form of treason if Andy went against her and spoke out to reveal any infirmity. She did, however, plan to have words with Miranda about it.

The one thing, Andy noticed, that did make her take pause in the beginning and hesitate to leave was leaving the babies. She wouldn’t have practically 24-hour access. A few times Miranda had been able to breastfeed, but otherwise, a state of the art breast pump made separation possible if not exactly comfortable. Later, Andy would find herself thinking it made it almost too easy.

But before her departure, each member of NICU staff had been briefed about who exactly they were dealing with, and exactly whose children they were dealing with. Reluctantly, Miranda had agreed to abide by hospital visiting hours as it was an issue of security and for that, she could not fault the hospital when it was that very security that had been the reason for her choosing it in the first place.

In all of this, Andy noted that Miranda’s tongue might be functioning at 100%, but there was still the matter of her body, which seemed to Andy to be at a strong 49-50%. Miranda had sent Andy out for coffee the morning of their departure, only for the young woman to come back and realize, despite Miranda’s feigned ignorance, that the older woman had lied to her and sent her away so she could get dressed in private. And from the faint sheen of sweat on an otherwise impossibly perfect brow, Andy could tell it had not been without difficulty.

Still, Andy kept her silence, hoping that when Miranda was home the older woman would finally be able to relax and not feel as much pressure to do things on her own as when there were multiple sets of eyes belonging to doctors to whom she had to prove her strength. Who were always standing around like ‘brainless geese’ according to Miranda, honking and flapping about unnecessarily.

The brainless geese may have a point, Andy thought to herself as she noticed the bloodless grip Miranda had on the handrail in the elevator, which Miranda would never, ever normally touch as they finally exited the hospital, having confirmed Roy was already in place, waiting outside the doors.

Along with heavy-duty under eye concealer, a medium weight dove gray cardigan by Thakoon was pinned in place by a spiky brooch, falling in an elegant geometric angle from just below her breasts so that it looked slightly boxy, but intentionally so, as though Miranda would have worn it that way even if it hadn’t been to conceal her postpartum figure was tucked under the stretch waistband of her maternity pants she was wearing to leave the hospital as they still fit decently enough to wear.

It stung that the act of holding hands as they left the hospital was only for show, that the only reason for this so-called display of affection was that Miranda was too proud to otherwise accept help down the stairs in front of the hospital, which proved an irksome obstacle.

Still, Andy smiled brightly at the press, attempting to project the glow of a new mother. It wasn’t all that difficult actually if she let her mind float back to the 14th floor and the two newborns who weighed no more than ten pounds between them. Andy’s mind startled as she made that connection, her two children together weighed as much as some newborns, singular. Julie and John’s son Jason had been a 9-pounder. But now it was Miranda who needed her support she reminded herself, bringing her mind back to the present.

“Miranda! Miranda! How are the babies?”

“What are their names?”

“Boy or girl?”

“Was it a long labour?”

“Were there any complications? It’s been a week!”

“When are you going back to work?”

Jesus H. Christ. Andy gritted her teeth. Some of the answers to those questions Miranda wouldn’t even tell her! She still had no idea when the older woman ‘thought’ she was going back to work, because she had a hunch that they would have very different feelings on that subject.

Miranda simply smiled, her eyes and the bags underneath them, hidden by sunglasses and moved towards the car without a word.

“Guys, guys,” Andy waved them quiet, drawing attention away from the editor and to herself.

There hadn’t been a formal announcement other than Leslie confirming that the birth had taken place and that Miranda and the babies were doing well, but would stay in the hospital for continued observation. Although truthfully, Andy didn’t know how ‘well’ she would rate any of the Priestly’s in her immediate care. The girls, thank God, were holding their own while they were staying with their father. Impatient as all get out, but being very good on the whole. Andy made a mental note to try and fit in some ‘adopted mother and me time’ so they didn’t feel they were being completely ignored. Her attention turned back to the horde, who had, finally, quieted.

In a show that had been carefully orchestrated by the couple, Andy figured the timing was about right to give the paparazzi something to write about so they would be too busy running off to their own editors to hound the couple, so Andy threw them a juicy tidbit which she knew would be fought over as each news source would want to be the first to break the news.

“Thanks for the going away party, but we’re going to be back. Miranda, you’ve just seen is doing brilliantly. Our son and daughter…”

A huge titter went up from the press before settling back down, hanging on the brunette’s every word

“Our son and daughter were born prematurely, so they’re going to be spending a little time here catching up on their growing. But they’re perfect.”

This at least, thought Andy was the truth. The cameras captured the blinding smile and bright eyes that would run alongside the headline of 90% of the city’s newspapers and more international magazines than you could count on both hands, as the world wondered over the condition of the fashion icon.

Knowing she was hidden from the paparazzi because Andrea had gotten in behind her, Miranda let herself fall into the seat as Roy closed the door, instead of her usual graceful slide. She grimaced as her hand dropped to her stomach, evidently recovering from the unpracticed movement.

“Miranda - ” Andy finished her little speech for the press and got to the door of the car in time to see the pained expression on her lover’s face.

“I’m fine,” Miranda said shortly, the words sounding forced. “You needn’t fuss over me anymore Andrea, I’m not pregnant, and I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t as there is no longer any need for your concern.”

Andy’s tired brain tried to work out the hidden meaning of the sentence in her head because she knew there was something else there, but she was in no mental state to decipher ‘Miranda’ at the moment. She would just have to trust that Miranda knew she was there to help and would ask when she felt she needed it. Surely, they had reached that level of communication and mutual understanding, right?

“I asked Jeremy to bring the girls by…tomorrow,” Andy spoke after they had gone a few blocks. A brief look of relief crossed Miranda’s face followed by a shadow of guilt, so Andy continued.

“I don’t know about you, but between the babies and the hospital chairs I am running on about zero sleep right now and could use a day to readjust.” She snuck a look at Miranda’s face and saw relief once more. Better, she thought.

Miranda nodded, her expression now giving away nothing. “Acceptable”

Okay, something was up. But the god honest truth was that Andy was so tired, that instead of pursuing the subject, she conked out about two minutes into the trip and only woke when they were pulling up to the townhouse and she heard a familiar voice swear unfamiliarly from the front seat as they turned onto their block.

Crap, her plan hadn’t worked. Evidently, her impromptu press conference at the hospital had only stoked the flames under the press and they’d come out full force once again, lining the sidewalk outside the townhouse

Miranda didn’t react at all. She was emotionless as the car pulled up to the sidewalk in front of their home, and opened the door as per usual when she wasn’t pregnant and proceeded to get out.

But those proceedings were quickly brought to a halt when the strength of her abdominal muscles was needed to hoist herself out of the car. But Roy, God bless him, heard the swift intake of breath from the backseat and was out and around the back passenger door like a flash. And Andy, in a similar fashion, made sure her grip was tight on Miranda’s hand as they walked up the steps to the townhouse together.

“Andy! Miranda! Come on, tell us their names!”

“When are you bringing them home?”

“How does it feel to be coming home without your children?”

Although the door to the townhouse was already open at this point and would have been easy to step inside and ignore the comment, Andy whirled around, anger blazing in her eyes as she tried to pick out which reporter had made that last comment.

“Don’t you forget,” Andy growled, inches away from the man’s face now that she’d identified him as the source. “Exactly who you are dealing with, and think very, very, clearly about the kind of repercussions you wish to bring down on yourself. Because I will not, for one second, hesitate to use MY sources and MY sway as a reporter to rain down hell on you if I ever, ever hear another personal comment regarding Miranda and our children.”

The usual Andy would have stopped there, but as an emotionally charged, sleep deprived new parent and a worried and confused partner to the mother of her children, she did not stop. She could not stop, even as the rational part of her brain screamed at her that she was doing more damage than good.

But her frustration at Miranda needed an outlet, and she had found one in the insensitive commentary of people she was loathe to call her colleagues.

“You have no clue, no clue who you are dealing with,” Andy’s voice was getting louder and thicker with angry tears. “Leave or your next article, the one you’re going to write about us will be your last, I guarantee it, and- ” she was cut off as a large hand closed around her upper arm gently, but firmly and pulled her back and around him so that the reporter was cut off from her view.

Roy glanced at her for a nano-second, but his meaning was clear. ‘Go to Miranda.’

Andy stormed up the stairs to the townhouse wordlessly, the muscles in her cheek and jaw jumping furiously as she tried to hold her tongue and keep from exploding again. The only, the only reason she obeyed was because she knew she had overstepped, invited even more inquiry into their lives and the total level of her current frustration meant that very soon she would not be able to stop the angry tears already building in her eyes.

Satisfied that Andy had gotten in the house safely, Roy turned to the man spoke lightly, almost conversationally to belie his next words. “What she means, is that should her colleagues in the press continue to hound herself or Miranda, then the audacity of these persons to harass new mothers would be repaid double and in kind. His meaning was clear: Although Miranda Priestly had made a few enemies, she and Andrea were surrounded by very loyal friends who would not hesitate to protect them however they saw fit.

Andy walked into the townhouse with a sense of dread, fearing Miranda had heard the altercation outside and already regretting it, but the older woman was too busy in her attempt to attempt the staircase.

Thoughts of the reporter fled as Andy’s tired eyes took in what was happening in front of her. Of course it was Miranda.

One leg simply seemed to buckle under her, leaving Miranda kneeling on the floor, her head bowed in humiliation and her body painfully tense as she waited once more to be ordered about or assisted as though she were 90 years old instead of 50.

Andy crouched down beside her. “I’m going to help you up,” Andy said quietly, careful not to sound patronizing. “You’re going to walk to our bedroom and you can either take a nap or shower, either of which I’m happy to help you with.

Miranda said nothing. Merely accepted the younger woman’s hand wordlessly and continued on to the bedroom, and then the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her so that Andy knew that her assistance was neither needed or welcomed.

Andy was gratified that she hadn’t tried to style her hair or put on makeup as reinforcement to the ‘armour’ of Miranda Priestly. And she was even more grateful when the older woman spoke as she exited the bathroom, having not said a word since they were in the car, even when she had fallen.

“Have you made arrangements tomorrow for the girls? And told Carmen we’ll need lunch for four?”

Relieved that the hot water had obviously thawed Miranda out, Andy actually felt like she was talking to her wife, well, almost wife again.

However it began to become more and more obvioius that Miranda was much less willing to let Andy help her, the younger woman noticed, even in the short time that had passed since the birth. It was almost like Miranda had needed the excuse the pregnancy provided to allow herself to receive help. Andy couldn’t make up her mind if it was pure stubbornness, or that Miranda didn’t think herself worthy. But Andy hadn’t gotten more than 2 or 3 hours sleep in a row since Miranda’s water had broken 8 days ago and didn’t have the mental bandwidth to think about it right now. She would just continue as she was, helping where she could, letting Miranda run the show as long as she didn’t run herself into the ground, which was where she feared they were both headed.

It scared her, much more than she would ever admit, just how weak the fashion icon was and scared her even moreso that she was obviously trying to hide it, even from her. They were supposed to be partners in this. But the vulnerability Miranda displayed, willingly or unwillingly, in the hospital had vanished, leaving something that was still delicate, but brittle instead of soft. You could almost call it fragile.