Chapter 60: The Baby Will Fall
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...
So this would have been ready a lot sooner, only several things happened. Starting a terrible job that I'm trying desperately to escape and that is slowly bleeding my soul dry, and a months long writing block had been cured, resulting in 5000 words I was exceptionally proud of, bridging things together nicely etc. etc. Then Word was 'Not Responding', shut down and my Dropbox happened to fail at the same time. Honestly, I was too heartbroken for a while to write again, but I appreciate everyone who keeps coming back to this story. YOU are AMAZING and such a light for me. Just know this - the end is in sight. Like maybe 5 chapters?
Please let me know if this is terrible because it's a totally rewritten chapter...ugh
Once back at the hospital, the two women were approached by the couple they were fast becoming friends with.
“Miranda, we heard about Chris. I’m so sorry, that must have been awful.”
Normally a comment like this would have inspired a vitriolic response that would have pointed out that ‘of course it had been awful’ and that their son’s name was ‘Christopher, not Chris’, but despite raw nerves and going on little to no sleep, Miranda was polite and actually gracious as she thanked Julie for her concern and nodded at John. Perhaps because she could feel the sentiment was authentic and truly sympathetic instead of pitying and false. The younger woman knew exactly what they were going through. It was good for Miranda to interact with someone who wasn’t her, Andy mused. The older woman truthfully didn’t have many friends, good friends she should say, not counting the dozens and droves that flocked around Miranda everywhere she went, all wanting something, always wanting something. But Julie and John were different, and Andy hoped they might actually be able to see them, socially, outside of the hospital. In the future of course, but they were already partway there. Jason had been responding well to treatment and both Julie and John were walking on air because they were told they could take him home next week. Andy was thrilled for them and jealous at the same time. Taking the babies home seemed like such a far off dream. More than anything she wanted to be woken up at 2 in the morning not by the phone with the hospital telling them something else had happened, but by cries coming from the bassinet at the side of their bed that right now, mocked them with their emptiness each night they went to bed ‘alone’.
In the meantime, however, Julie and John looked on in amazement at the seemingly endless wardrobe hand delivered by the most loyal minions of Runway every other day. Miranda’s clothes were delivered to the house so really it was only the babies’ wardrobe, which made it even more embarrassing, at least to Andy. But she realized it was part and parcel of being with Miranda which was everything, and worth anything.
Andy balanced a little body on her arms stretched out right in front of her. “Hi, my sweet girl. What are you wearing, huh? Did mommy put you in a custom Dolce & Gabbana onesie? Yes, she did, I can see the label. Are you still going to spit up all over it? You bet.” Andy laughed and kissed the little cheek. “If Emily could see this, there wouldn’t be enough cheese in the whole of New York to make up for puking on custom couture. You might be mommy’s angel, but you’re mama’s little rebel,” Andy referenced the surprisingly sweet nickname the editor often used when addressing the babies directly when she thought no one, including Andy, could hear. Yesterday the couture casualty de jour had been Armani. Secretly or not so secretly, Andy considered it a waste. On the other hand, she found it hysterical that it seemed there was a new contest among designers to see who could design the best basic white onesie which they may or may not create knowing it would be one use at best. Honestly, Andy thought they might as well just wrap them in a new white Hermes scarf every day, the babies being so small and it being Miranda’s signature. She did not however, voice this aloud and in doing so risk Miranda’s ire, not to mention life and limb.
Through this however, Miranda found a way to continue designer showings, simply by judging the quality of the babies’ clothing that was being delivered. Spending so much time with them just sitting, Miranda had ample opportunity to critique the design, the fabric choice, the stitching. Andy wondered if the designers had any clue they were being tested every time they sent a gift.
As Miranda’s fingers travelled down the little body one day as they sat in the NICU, she felt something strange stir inside her, unsettling her. Casting aside those feelings she thought the result of the post partum depression, she looked into the face of her sleeping child and her eyes, keen as ever, noticed the faintest blue tinge of the baby’s lips. Her hand going to his face, she realized he wasn’t waking up with her touch. Miranda had been a split second faster at noticing the change in the baby and the monitor
“Someone,” Her voice came out quietly, rasping with fear that had overtaken every muscle in her body.
Somehow, she managed to command her legs to stand and she got up from the chair without assistance, ignoring the pulling she felt in her side and used her voice again, this time with more effect.
“Nurse! Someone. Please. My son. His lips are turning blue and he won’t,” her voice caught despite herself. “He won’t wake.”
A crash cart appeared out of nowhere and Andy just after, looking on in horror as the baby was taken out of Miranda’s arms and laid on the cart, the little body so still.
Miranda’s eyes were dry as she watched the scene, and any person watching her would paint her as heartless and cold, truly the epitome of the Ice Queen. But Andy read the tension in the lines of the older woman’s face, noted the set of her jaw and the absolute stillness of her posture and knew that Miranda had gone past tears and she was watching a heart that was already broken fracture further, possibly beyond repair.
When the electric pads were placed on the tiny chest, Andy closed her eyes, but Miranda’s stare only intensified as though she were trying to supplant some of her own strength into her son. Intense and unwavering, Miranda’s gaze stayed trained on the cart and her son, remaining open as the earning was called out and the pads connected with the little chest which jerked unnaturally.
Andy noted peripherally that the older woman had stopped breathing, but even if she could have moved from her spot Andy didn’t know how to comfort her. There were no words for this.
Crying and naked under the lights except for his diaper, the baby looked so small and vulnerable, even as he was the larger twin, Miranda instinctively moved closer to the crying infant but was stopped by a familiar voice.
“Miranda, you can’t pick him up right now.” Dr. Jansen had appeared at some point and approached the trio with a look that was unmistakeably grim.
Miranda looked as though she were going to argue but remained silent and waited for the doctor to speak.
“The best thing for Christopher would be a full heart transplant, but he hasn’t even reached his estimated due date and ideally I’d like to see him a few pounds heavier going into surgery. That isn’t our main problem though.”
“It’s not?” Andy choked out in disbelief as the same image that Miranda’s mind had conjured appeared in hers as well. Scalpels cutting into the tiny chest of their son, making him bleed, causing him pain, pain that they were supposed to protect him from.
“Our main problem is that he’s nowhere near the top of the transfer list. You’re looking at a wait time of at least a year, or more, until enough hearts have become available for a neonatal transplant.
“How is that possible?” Miranda’s voice was icy, Andy recognized the dangerous timbre and braced herself internally for the onslaught that awaited whatever poor soul denied her what she wanted.
“How long does his heart have to stop beating before they deem his suffering ‘enough’ to warrant an imminent transplant.
“His condition is serious and it’s not okay that he stopped breathing.” Dr. Jansen spoke firmly, trying her best to look Miranda in the eye and overlook the increasing purse of the older woman’s lips.
“But there are a lot of babies in a lot worse condition in New York. Babies that have machines pumping their blood for them 24/7. Babies who have been waiting a lot longer. They’re all somebody’s baby, Miranda, even if not your own.”
But Miranda was nowhere close to being mollified. “Do not,” her voice was almost inaudible and yet still had enough force to make the hair on the back of Andy’s neck stand up. “Patronize me and try to diminish the suffering of my son. Make no mistake, Dr. Jansen. I have spent years, worked countless hours, often putting my family second so that I could amass the kind of power my name wields, sacrificing relationships I cared very deeply about so that one day, should I come to need it, I would be able to borrow on my name and exact favours the likes of this one although I told myself I would never let it come to that. And now you tell me no amount of money, no amount of pull or sway will allow me to help my children - infants, newborns who have done nothing to deserve the consequences…Andrea?”
But the younger woman had turned away from her and was walking towards the wall, bracing her hands against the cold, painted brick and trying to draw in deep breaths with little success. At the first touch of Miranda’s hand on her back, she crumpled, her knees slowly giving way as she turned so that her back slid down the wall, leaning her head forward to rest on her knees as long swaths of brunette hair brushed the ground.
“Andrea, talk to me…please”
“It’s just a shitstorm.” Andy was breathing through her hands that were covering her face as she tried to mentally process everything they were dealing with at the moment. “Between the babies, trying to make everything normal for the girls, trying to be there for you when I don’t have a clue how to do any of it! And I’m not doing it, I’m failing. Oh, and let’s not forget the piece of shit that’s trying to get you fired. I can’t help them, I can’t help you, I can’t help anyone anymore and I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” She really was crying now, her face once more hidden by her hands as she tried to hide from Miranda.
Crouching with some difficulty, Miranda gently pulled one hand away from the red, blotchy face and held it between her own, not really caring at the moment who saw.
“Andrea, although in the past, it was your job to be my assistant, that is no longer the role for which you are responsible. Instead, you are the glue that has held together this family over the last 9 months that you’ve been back in our lives, and I admit, I keep waiting for it to end. For you to get tired of living with someone like me, with four children that you never signed up for, two of them very ill and all needing attention. You have held me together Andrea, every piece of unexpected fragility in the Dragon Lady you have navigated, bringing me back, grounding me, keeping me sane. I am so sorry, Andrea, truly I am sorry that I have not done the same for you.
Andy shook her head. “No, you were busy trying to keep our children, and yourself, alive and safe, and that’s the most important thing.”
“But yet another role in which I could not follow through.” Miranda said softly.
“Miranda, I was with you during that labour and throughout your entire pregnancy. I know how much you love these babies, like I do, that’s why this all seems so unfair.”
“Easy, Andrea, gently,” Miranda’s breath hitched slightly as the younger woman tried to help her to her feet and her hand went to her side.
“Oops, sorry.” Andy stopped pulling the older woman upwards, but kept a steadying hand on her waist while the other was braced so that Miranda could pull herself up.
“I did hear one thing from the nurses though, that was positive.”
Miranda didn’t respond, but an arched eyebrow told Andy she was listening.
“While the nurse was re-fitting Cora’s oxygen tube - ”
“Which nurse?”
“The black one with the gorgeous braided bun, now let me continue.”
“She straightened up from fixing the nosepiece and Janine, the other nurse, walked over and all I hear is ‘Damn Janine, these are some cute babies, they is gor-geous!’”
Miranda looked supremely self-satisfied but quickly rearranged her features to that only of faint interest. Andy knew however, that the older woman was, secretly, extremely pleased about the comment, and more than a little smug. However, she only raised an eyebrow in Andy’s direction as she made her next comment.
“Of course they are Andrea, they’re Priestly babies.”
Andy just howled, knowing Miranda was repeating Caroline’s comment about the babies while Miranda had still been pregnant and they wanted to show their friends the ultrasound. Finally, Andy’s laughter died down, it had been a much needed reprieve after her recent tears, and she shook her head. “You are somethin’ else, Priestly, but I gotta admit you do make gorgeous babies.”
There was that smug look again and it just made Andy love her all that much more.
“Should we go home and see our other beautiful babies? I think Jeremy’s supposed to drop them off in an hour, but Carmen’s at the house if we’re not back in time.”
Andy watched as Miranda’s eyes changed colour as they warmed at the mention of her daughters before shadows crept into them once again as she remembered how she had left things last time.
“Yes, I believe I have much to make up for.” Miranda’s lips thinned and Andy could tell a purse was imminent as their owner brooded.
“Nuh uh, none of that.” Andy took Miranda’s hand.
The girls had only breached the front step of the door when they sped up and ran to the two women waiting for them, hugging them tightly.
In typical Priestly fashion, the girls got straight to the point, not pulling any punches.
“Mom, when can we come home?”
Miranda was instantly on alert. “Why, what’s happened?”
“Nothing, mom, really. Dad takes care of us as good as he always does.”
The tip of Miranda’s ear twitched as Cassidy made the grammatical error, but wisely, Andy thought, knew now wasn’t the time to pursue it and she stayed silent as the girls continued their plea.
“We’ll be good, we promise. We know how to get ourselves ready for school and do our homework when we get home
“I want someone to be there for you, Bobbsey’s. I don’t want to feel like I’m leaving you alone.”
“Why didn’t that stop you before? You’ve left us alone a thousand times. We have Cara and Carmen.”
“Cassidy, fix your tone please.” Miranda frowned slightly at the reminder of her typical behaviour. She didn’t know why she was so worried about the girls. They were right, she had left them alone countless times, truthfully often without a second glance.
Andy could see Miranda was torn, not wanting to say no to her daughters
“Do you really want to stay here, Bobbseys? Mummy and Andrea will be leaving very early and coming back very late from the hospital.”
“Miranda, may I have a word with you in the kitchen?”
Miranda’s tone was brusque as she followed the brunette into the kitchen. “What? What is it?”
“We can make it work. If the girls really want to stay here then we can make it work. We can take alternate evenings at the hospital. I know you don’t want them on the bottle so often, but we have enough of your milk stored that we can switch off nights.”
Miranda just huffed and didn’t meet her eyes.
“What is it? Tell me, what’s really going on?”
“I don’t want them around...”
A sharp gasp caused both of them to turn around, only to see Caroline flee the kitchen before Miranda had a chance to finish her sentence with the word ‘me’. The ten year old had only heard the first part of Miranda’s sentence.
“Caroline…”
But Caroline wasn’t about to let Miranda have a chance to speak.
“I knew it, I knew you wouldn’t want us anymore. You only care about the babies, you don’t even want us living here. This is our house too.” A little foot stamped and her voice shook.
Miranda knelt, for the second time that day and it was no less painful, but her attentions were focused solely on the little girl in front of her and her sister, still watching the exchange silently through tear filled eyes.
“Sweetheart, what did you hear mummy say in the kitchen?”
A sniff. “That you didn’t want us around.” Now the tears spilled over cheeks still rosy and round with youth despite the very grown-up situation she found herself in.
Miranda nodded. “Yes, but you didn’t wait to hear all of the sentence.”
“So? It doesn’t matter - you said that you didn’t want us.”
“Around me,” Miranda spoke softly but clearly enough for both girls to hear her.
“Bobbsey, I didn’t - I don’t, want you to have to be around me at the moment. Mummy’s still healing from having the babies and she’s not…quite herself and it’s not fair to you.”
“We love you, mom! And we wanna stay with you and Andy no matter how crazy you’re acting.”
Miranda’s lips pursed slightly at the word ‘crazy’ but she wisely bit her tongue. “If you’re truly sure Bobbsey, I’ll speak to your father.”
And so, after a rather heated discussion that Andy had happened to be within earshot for, it was agreed that the girls would be moved back in by the end of the week.
Miranda had perfected the art of looking over the Book with a newborn tucked in the middle of her chest and while breastfeeding. Truthfully, Andy knew Miranda would have to direct her attention back to work in light of the accusations and investigations that came courtesy of Irv Ravitz. The team at Runway was good, but no one was as good as Miranda.
“Dr. Jansen, please” Both brunettes’ eyes opened wide at the older woman’s voluntary use of the word. But Miranda carried on as if nothing else had happened.
“My girls, our girls, are having a very hard time accepting that the babies are here and need so much of our attention. I’m concerned they aren’t going to bond with them and I know there is a part of them that resents them for taking up so much of our time.”
Dr. Jansen nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing as she thought an rubbed her right index finger back and forth over her lip.
“Let me see what I can do about that. No promises, but I’ll look into it.”
Miranda nodded, and for once, didn’t press.
She remained untalkative on the car ride home and after saying good night to the girls, went through her evening routine and climbed into bed where Andy was waiting for her.
Scanning the older woman’s face for clues as to how she was feeling, Andy saw that eyelash flutter that preceded an exhaustion-induced migraine.
“You’re still not doin’ so hot, are you? What can I do? Tell me, Miranda, anything I can do to help you, please, I want to know.”
“Continue as you have Andrea. Continue as my strength, my support, my partner in all this as I navigate foreign waters.
“If I was gonna leave, I would have left a long time ago.” Andy meant this to be comforting, but Miranda bristled at the statement, her scowl remaining as Andy ran her hand up and down her body.
“I will not leave, Miranda. I will never leave. If God forbid our relationship should ever end it will be because you’ve finally tired of me and sent me away.”
“I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. You have weakened me in equal parts to the way you’ve strengthened me.” Miranda spoke softly. “But I thank God for it, for you, Andrea.”
“Go to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning. I’ll be here every morning.”
True to her word, Dr. Jansen managed to come through for them, and the very next evening found them back at New York Presbyterian standing at the window into the NICU nursery waiting for Dr. Jansen’s signal. While they were waiting, Andy pointed out the little boy of the couple they were quickly becoming friends with.
“That’s Jason.”
“He’s so chubby, look at his feet!”
“He’s cute, he can be Cora’s boyfriend.”
Andy actually had to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle the laugh that had bubble up in her throat as she witnessed Miranda’s horrified reaction to Caroline’s statement. Miranda’s mouth was still slightly open, so Andy took control.
“Whoa, you guys. The babies aren’t even supposed to be born yet and you’re already matchmaking?”
The little girl shrugged precociously. “Ok, so in two more weeks we can set them up. What was it supposed to be Cass, when they were supposed to be born? the 26th?”
“Nope, 27th. That’s what Andy said mom’s ‘due date’ was
Andy just shook her head and squeezed Miranda’s hand, having moved closer during their discussion.
“Can you imagine still being pregnant?” Andy murmured so only Miranda could hear. The older woman closed her eyes briefly and a small shudder went through her body.
“No. Although for their sake, I wish I were.” Her gaze flicked over to the two infants Caroline and Cassidy were still busy inspecting through the viewing window.
“Your body knew.” Andy repeated the sentiment she had said to Miranda so many times before in moments of uncertainty. “Your body grew them and your body knew when it was time for them to be born.”
“My body may have known, but I had no control, have no control over what it sees fit to do.”
“Miranda, you gave birth to two breathing babies. Both of our babies were born breathing and I am so thankful for that fact even though other conditions have come to light that make things difficult.”
“Yes.” Miranda agreed as her head turned back towards all four of their children. “Difficult.”
Andy was still amazed that Miranda would consult her in situations involving the babies, but Miranda had said they would be equal partners in this, and as such, Andy would not let her down.
Once the night nurse came to the door, and her body not otherwise compromised by childbirth, Andy knelt down carefully with the baby, keeping her voice soft as well.
“Guys. Say hello to Cora.”
“She’s really small,” the younger girl said, looking concerned. “She’s so little!”
“I know,” Andy said softly, “but she’s getting bigger. She’s a fighter, just like your mama and I think she’s got a stubborn streak like two other somebodies in this room and she’s not gonna let anybody tell her what she can’t do.”
“So why’s she still here? Why can’t she come home?”
“She had some trouble breathing when she was born, so they’re just waiting for her lungs to grow up a little bit more before they take her off the extra oxygen.”
“Oh, okay.” The little girl looked dubious but accepted the answer as Andy stepped forward to let Miranda kiss the forehead of the baby girl and whisper goodnight before Andy handed her back to the night nurse so they could refit her oxygen before her ox-sats dropped.
The night nurse also gave the all clear for the girls to step inside the NICU where Christopher’s bassinet was rolled over to the door.
“We can’t take Chris out because we’ve got to keep the heart monitors on him, but I’m going to lift you guys up so you can see him and touch him, okay?”
After a brief argument that was quickly ended by a sharp look from Miranda, the girls decided by rock-paper-scissors who got to go first, and so Andy lifted a triumphant Cassidy up first for introductions.
“He’s bigger than Cora. But he’s still really small.”
“That’s because he was the twin who had more blood flow to his placenta. Do you remember when we talked about that when they were inside your mom?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Okay, okay, it’s my turn.” Caroline’s impatient voice broke in.
Christopher charmed the little girl by grabbing onto her finger and trying to insert it into his mouth.k
“Look Cassidy, he likes me better.”
“He does not!”
“Girls,” Miranda’s voice held a clear warning as she bent over the bassinet to press a featherlight kiss to the little cheek.
They quickly fell silent, but once they left the NICU their excited chatter resumed.
“They’re super cute.”
“When they come home, can we take them to school for show and tell?”
Miranda’s expression was unreadable, but knowing how to read the unreadable and take a guess at how Miranda felt about that idea, Andy took it upon herself to answer the loaded question.
“I don’t know about that guys, they’re going to need to stick pretty close to your mom for a little while.”
“Oh yeah. Yuck.”
“Yeah, breastfeeding is kind of gross.”
Andy snorted and hid her grin behind her hand as Miranda simply looked heavenward as though she were counting to ten.
“You know about eleven years ago you were doing the same thing.”
“Andyyyy.” The girls groaned in unison and Cassidy clapped a hand over her eyes dramatically.
“I think we’ve said enough on the subject.” Miranda finally joined in, more out of necessity than anything else.
“We’ll see, Cassidy.”
And that was that.
When Andy finally got to their bedroom that night after tucking the girls in for a second time, she chuckled as she shut the door behind her. The Miranda Priestly was sat up in bed with the Book, her glasses resting on the bump of her nose and the pen in her hand tapping against slightly pursed lips. A worn grey bathrobe covered her shoulders, but was left untied to make space for the dual suction cups of the breast pumps.
She felt Miranda’s glare rather than saw it, but the laugh still bubbled out of her throat as she crossed the bedroom and crawled over the mattress to get to Miranda, kneeing the Book aside as she threaded both hands through the white hair and cupped her face, bringing it to her own
Despite her annoyance at Andrea’s laughter, Miranda felt herself respond, and then respond too much as the brunette’s long fingers brushed over the tops of Miranda’s breasts, causing the milk to flow harder and the machine to speed up uncomfortably.
“A-Andrea,” Miranda gasped and placed her hand against the brunette’s chest to stop her. “I’m sorry, I…”
“Hey, no apologies, not like that, not ever. But I need you to know that you are still the most beautiful person in the world to me and I am dying for the day I can make you my wife.” Andy leaned forward to kiss her again and Miranda shivered as she felt her body’s involuntary response.
“I already am.” Miranda replied. Her eyes closed and her lips still pressed to Andy’s. “Even without having married you, I am more a wife to you than I ever was to any of my husbands.”
“You’re so goddamn beautiful.”
Miranda snorted, looking down at the contraption that was currently milking her but Andy was sincere, and the warm chestnut pools soaked into her parched soul like sunshine, which sounded ridiculous in her head, but was the most accurate way to describe how the younger woman made her feel.
Andy left once more to run the filled bottles down to the fridge and sanitize the machine before checking the girls were finally down and returning to Miranda who had returned from the washroom and putting on the sports bra that she loathed but was a practical way to keep the breast pads in place for when she leaked during the night.
Finally, after what felt like it had been a 20 hour day, Andy slipped into bed, her arm resting over the older woman’s hip as she instinctively moved closer to the source of warmth and comfort she could not deny herself.
“The Book was abysmal,” Miranda admitted to the darkness. “I don’t know what this means for Runway. It will look as though Irv is right. If I’m not able -”
“But you are. Miranda, go in. I understand, Runway is your baby too.”
“But it’s not,” Miranda muttered, lost in self recrimination. “If I thought Christopher or Cora needed me imminently…”
“You would be there, I know. But the fact is, you’re there 99% of the time and as much as I hate saying it, it doesn’t look like they’re going to be coming home very soon. The rest of your life can’t stop. You need to take care of yourself, and that means taking care of Runway.”
There was silence for a long moment, but Andy knew the older woman wasn’t asleep.
“How do you see me, Andrea? The rest of the world can’t. They won’t. They won’t understand how a mother could leave ill newborns…I am already the Dragon Lady, I can’t imagine what they’ll call me now.”
“Hey, hey…You’re not leaving them. You’re going into work for a few mornings or afternoons a week. And what do you care what they call you?”
“I suppose I should be glad. But I’m angry they can’t do it without me.”
“No one can do what you do, Miranda. Your vision for Runway is like the North Star that everybody follows and depends on for direction.”
“That’s a lovely metaphor, Andrea, but…I don’t know how much of that is true and how much of it simply points to the fact that I was a poor leader who left her employees unable to step up to the role.”
“I don’t believe that. And I don’t think anybody else does either. You’ll fix this. And I’ll help you in any way I can.”
“Would that I had your belief.”
“What’s mine is yours. Now go to sleep.”
The two women were able to stay long enough in the morning to wake up the girls before leaving them with Cara overseeing the breakfast routine and them off to school with Roy after he returned from dropping Andy and Miranda at New York Presbyterian. Walking into the NICU the first thing both women noticed was the empty bassinet next to Christopher.
“Did Jason go home?” Andy turned to the closest NICU nurse, Amy, smiling broadly as she anticipated the good news.
That smile faded quickly as the older woman shook her head. “No,” she crossed her arms tightly and looked over at the now empty incubation bassinet. “Jason experienced multiple organ failure last night. He…he didn’t make it.”
“Oh my God, Julie, John, oh God they were so excited to take him home next week.” In shock at the devastating news, Andy turned to Miranda, whose stricken expression took away the breath she had just managed to regain.
Miranda’s usual unaffected expression returned after a moment, but her eyes were still trained on the empty bassinet, hands fisted tightly at her side. “Why? Why did this happen? Wasn’t anyone watching him? What incompetence…”
“Miranda, Miranda,” Andy took the distraught woman by the shoulders and ducked her head to meet the other woman’s eyes even as her own were filling up with tears.
“Sweetheart, they did everything they could, I’m sure of it.”
“Why? He was better, he - he was doing well!” Miranda barked at the nurse, her whole body rigid with tension as she stormed past the woman into ‘their’ corner of the NICU.
With trembling hands, Miranda lifted Cora out of the incubator and cradled her with one arm to her chest as she moved the oxygen cart over to the small area that had been set up with a rocking chair. Realizing she could barely hold on to one baby and lower her body into the chair, Miranda’s head whipped around, eyes blazing, only to find Andy already scooping their son into her arms before transferring him into Miranda’s free arm once the older woman had managed to seat herself semi-comfortably in the recliner, knowing what she had wanted and needed before she had even to ask as she always did.
Miranda stared at the two impossibly small, red, snuffling bundles that were slight enough to both fit in her lap, as sheer terror bubbled up in the back of her throat and replaced the anger as she allowed herself to voice her fears.
“What if that had been us? What if they hadn’t been as strong? What if they’d caught an infection and they weren’t able to fight off any shock to their system?”
“They’re strong, Miranda” Andy insisted. But the quaver in her voice and the working of her jaw as she fought not to cry belied any confidence she might have tried to project. “They’re going to be okay, they’re going to be fine.” It sounded like the younger woman was trying to convince herself as much as the editor and the brunette head bent over the two downy heads and brushed her lips against the blessedly warm and vital skin.
“I’m just gonna grab some fresh air,” Andy stood quickly and turned, hoping Miranda wouldn’t see or hear the tears that threatened in her voice and eyes and would not be thwarted. “I’ll bring back some coffee,” she threw over her shoulder as she fled the stifling sterility of the NICU that had done little to protect the little boy whose days had been so callously numbered.
Miranda watched as the brunette fled, and she wondered if the younger woman had even remembered she couldn’t drink coffee at the moment. Not really, and not that it mattered anyway, the babies resting on her lap and keeping her from getting up were perhaps the only thing keeping Miranda from submitting to the desire to empty the contents of her stomach as a searing pain tore through it that had nothing to do with the labour or delivery or healing aftermath of childbirth.
With Andy gone, Miranda was alone, at least for the moment, and the brief respite from being the Dragon Lady allowed her softer, more maternal emotions to slip out as a whispered plea. “Don’t leave me. Please, please don’t leave me.” The striking silver head was bowed over the two tiny forms resting against her knees that she had drawn up to her chest and she gently rocked back and forth in the glider chair. It was the first time she had ever begged someone not to leave her with them there to hear it, she would have, with Andrea in Paris, had she gotten the chance. But she had been too late, and the brunette had left. Left the show, left Paris, left her, and she had begged after their fight earlier in her pregnancy when she thought Andrea had left for a second time…
A tiny hand had wriggled free from the swaddling blanket and softly brushed Miranda’s face as its owner exalted in her newfound freedom.
Miranda caught the tiny, flailing hand in her own, pressing her lips to the soft skin and inhaling the sweet warmth of the newborn’s skin.
The intruder coughed lightly, and Miranda’s head snapped up, expecting to see a sheepish or shamefaced Andrea only to see the devastated but strangely settled features of Julie Amner.
Hampered by the position of the babies and the machines they were attached to, Miranda could do little more than incline her head, inviting the other woman to sit in the adjacent rocker.
The blonde woman’s eyes never left the two squirming bundles on Miranda’s lap as she began to speak. “They’ve had us signing forms…all morning.” Her breath hitched, “I thought we had done all that…we were ready to take him home, the nursery…” Now the tears finally fell along with the blonde head as her shoulders shook with tears. “It doesn’t seem real. None of it does. He was real and now it’s like he never existed.” She met Miranda’s eyes again. “How can that be? How is that fair, that the world will never remember he existed? How his existence never mattered, that it changes nothing except for everything.”
It was only a lifetime of practice that kept a tear from rolling down Miranda’s cheek as well. If she let one escape, she knew it would be too difficult to stop the others. It was an unbearable thought to know that the two little lives that at the moment made up her entire world could so easily be considered nothing more than a blip in the timeline of life, insignificant so far as to be non-existent to anyone outside of their family and friends, their only legacy left to read in the tabloids as the spawn that had briefly filled the dragon’s belly.
Miranda spoke with a tenderness few had ever heard. “Julie, I am so sorry. Truly, and I don’t offer this lightly, if there is anything, anything I can do - whether it be residual medical bills or funeral costs or…”
“No,” the younger woman shook her head, “No, no, thank you but John and I will be fine. Our health insurance policy…well it covered most of it considering we never,” her breath hitched on another sob. “Considering no one ever would have expected this to happen.”
Taking a deep breath in an attempt to compose herself the woman continued. “Miranda, you know Jason’s cause of death was multiple organ failure because of his body’s rejection of the dialysis. So…so much was ruined or beyond repair wh-when they ex-examined him for cause of death.” She broke off again, and Miranda was able to free an arm so that she could take the grieving mother’s hand.
“But his heart,” Julie continued, crying openly now. Miranda’s almost stopped and then skipped a beat as her mind, ever analytical, immediately raced through the potential reasons why the other woman was telling her this.
“His heart was p-perfect and h-healthy. I..we’ve asked that it be given to Chris,” she nodded at the baby on Miranda’s right. “If-if he’s a match, through the donor registry, I might get to hear my baby’s heart beat again, through your son.”
Miranda couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, all she could do was look down at her beautiful, live, breathing child, even knowing him so sick, and picture him healthy and whole and able to live a life unhindered by the dozens of checkups and surgeries she had been told time and again would be part of his future. Her lifetime of practice holding back tears was dissolved completely at this news, and she didn’t realize she was actually crying in front of the other woman until a familiar voice could be heard at the door.
“Miranda, what on? Oh, Julie, Julie I am so sorry…” Alarmed, Andy started to speak but Miranda shook her head violently, unable to say quickly enough that a miracle had just literally been dropped in their laps.
“Andrea, his heart…” Miranda started but found herself completely overcome, leaving Andy concerned and bewildered at the amount of tears being shed by both women, especially since one of those women was Miranda, who never, ever, cried in front of anybody but her.
“I…they…Jason,” Miranda still wasn’t making any sense but rested her head against the tiny chest of their son and succumbed to more tears that silently shook the slim shoulders.
Now a man’s voice broke in from behind her, tired, broken but laced with a gentleness that helped to slow Andy’s racing pulse as she was wondering just what in the hell was going on.
“John, I…”
“Andy,” the man gave a worn smile and sat down next to his wife, who turned into his shoulder as his hand wrapped around her back. “Julie and I,” now he began to choke up and his voice turned slightly rough. “Jason’s heart…when they did the post-mortem…they, they were able to save it, for donation.”
Andy actually felt the room spin and her vision blur before she managed to steady herself on the glider’s arm and lower herself to the floor beside Miranda’s feet, as no other seat was available.
“We want our little boy’s heart to go to you, for Chris…”
Now everyone was crying, except for the two actual infants in the room.
“Why…how? We…” Andy couldn’t form any words as she looked over at her son, or at least the parts of him not being smothered or covered by a familiar snowy head.
Miranda finally raised her head and looked into Julie’s eyes with a fierce blue gaze. “You said his life wouldn’t matter, that nobody would know. But we know, and every day of his life, every time I touch my son, every time I see him run or play, I will remember the reason why. I will remember to whom we owe his life, and you will know, that in a way, Jason will live a long and happy life. Because a part of your son will live on in mine, and that is a debt even I cannot dream of repaying in this lifetime.”
“There’s no debt, Miranda, and, not now, but one day soon when I’m ready to face it, I hope you will let us be a small part of Christopher’s life.”
“Yes.” Miranda spoke for the both of them in a halted, husky voice rough with tears.
Miranda could count the number of people she had ever cried in front of on one hand. The only other time she had ever been this overwhelmed was when she was handed her daughters, and now, it was like she was being handed her son for the first time, with a new and full lease on life that even she would never have been able to give him.
Andy thought of it first. “Wait, if they want to give him Jason’s heart then…when do they want to do the surgery?”
“As soon as possible, I believe.” John’s deep voice should have been soothing, but his words made it anything but.
“No.” The word was on Miranda’s lips before she had a chance to stop it. All she could do was look at the trusting gaze of the baby on her lap and feel as though she were leaving him to the lions.
“Miranda, they can’t just keep it on ice.”
“I know. I know. It’s just the thought…of them…” Images of scalpels cutting deep into the chest of the calm, happy baby in her lap overwhelmed her and she barely registered the brunette’s hand run soothingly down her arm. But she was beyond soothing.
“I know. Shh, believe me I know. But this is his best chance.”
Less than an hour later, Andy watched the nurse take the baby from Miranda and prayed harder than she ever had before that this would not be the last time they saw their son alive. This had to work.