A/N: Hello. A Christmas oneshot thing to brighten your day. It's a tad late I know, but I only started it yesterday so it's cool haha. Happy Christmas to all who celebrate and Happy holidays to those who don't. hope you all like it!
This has not been beta-d and is NOT part of the More than just Baggage story, which coincidentally is also coming soon. My beta works retail and that explains it all really. Spare a thought for her doing a gazillion hour days :(
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"Mommy?"
Miranda froze. There was nobody in the townhouse and she was depressed. The girls had gone with their father for Christmas, something that hardly ever happened, but he promised a trip to the Frozen themed Disney World Christmas extravaganza, and despite their repeated assurances that they were not babies anymore, they went with bright little smiles.
The salutation therefore was rather worrying.
Miranda looked at Patricia and frowned when the dog didn't even move. The noise was alien to their household and her usually alert guard dog was snoring on her feet.
"Patricia, come."
The dog huffed, but did her bidding as she descended the stairs. There was a small sound, a hiss and then a bang that had Miranda quickening her steps.
Crash!
"Andréa?"
Miranda was gobsmacked. Andréa was sitting on the floor, cradling a sobbing child in her arms with the remnants of a vase her ex-mother-in-law had given as a wedding-present all around her.
"Miranda, I, I'm so sorry. I can explain. I'll replace it, I promise. You can dock my pay until I pay it off."
At this the young woman looked sick, and Miranda remembered all too well the thought of being docked one's pay when you were struggling. It occurred to Miranda that she wasn't angry at all. If she was honest with herself she could acknowledge that she had not found the will to be angry at Andréa for anything for a long time.
"Andréa, calm down." Miranda said gently, not wanting to spook either person on her hallway floor. "I never liked that vase anyway."
A flash of something went across Andréa's face and a little head popped up and looked at her.
"Whoa," the little one said.
"Andréa? Who -"
"You're w'ite Mommy, she's boodiful!"
Miranda chuckled at the small child who was buried under about 4 layers of snow gear on account of the sub zero temperatures and buckets of snow they'd received the night before. Seeing Andréa's pink cheeks in the hall lights made Miranda's heart flutter.
"Will you come in for a hot drink? I imagine it's a bit late for a," she glanced at the child, "h-o-t c-h-o-c-o-l-a-t-e?"
Andy smiled gently and rolled her eyes.
"We shouldn't," Andréa said looking at her watch. "We have to be back by a certain time."
"Nonsense," Miranda said. "I can hardly see you slumped on my floor and not offer you something warm. Is it really that late?"
"No, It's not," Andréa sighed. "We have a long way to get, um where we're going. The warmth would do us good, but we really can't stay long."
"Well then, by all means, come in. Coats in the closet and I'll get started in the kitchen."
Miranda walked away before Andréa could answer, placing a saucepan on the stove and pushing buttons on her coffee machine.
"Actually Miranda, you really don't have to do this," the young woman said from the doorway. "We can get out of your hair."
"Am I in the habit of making false gestures Andréa?"
"No Miranda," she whispered.
"Sit down then."
"Yes Miranda."
Silence reigned over the kitchen with on the gas stove hissing as it heated the hot chocolate. Miranda was concentrating on stirring, and not on demanding to know whose child was in her care. The cry she'd heard earlier would suggest that it was in fact Andréa's but she was sure that it was impossible. The girl had run ragged in the first stages of her employment, and with the aberration that was Paris, had been and continued to be, the best assistant Miranda had had bar none. That was just over a year ago now and the child couldn't be that old, three, maybe four. She had surely not done all that with a small child at home on an assistants wage.
"Mommy?"
Miranda glanced behind her and saw finally the little one accompanying Andréa without her layers on. It was undoubtedly Andréa's child, a carbon copy, save for perhaps the chin. Miranda winked at the little girl and took down one of her favourite mugs, pouring some of the not-yet-hot chocolate in so it would not burn.
"Can we s'eep here tonight? It's nice. I don't wanna go to va shell-ta."
Miranda spun around and looked at Andréa, really looked. The young woman squirmed in her seat, bowing her head as her shoulders shook. So many thought rushed through Miranda's head as she looked at the broken posture of her favourite assistant.
"Andréa, what is she talking about?"
"We have to w-ive there now that Daddy's d-on away. He didn't w-ike me," the little girl said.
"Sweetheart," Miranda said, kneeling on her kitchen floor so that she could look straight into the child's eyes. "I doubt that your Daddy went away because he didn't like you. I like you, and I'm a very good judge of character."
The little girl beamed and took a sip of her hot chocolate, humming in delight and smiling with her chocolate mustache.
"Coffee or hot chocolate Andréa?" Miranda asked quietly.
It was such a foreign situation, Miranda wasn't sure what to do. Andréa and her had shared the odd loaded glance; had brushed fingers occasionally, but Miranda was under the assumption that Andréa was taken and had thought nothing of it. Now, however, things seemed a lot less sure.
"Caffeine is bad for the -" she muttered, stopping mid sentence and slapping her hand across her mouth. Miranda frowned for a moment, wondering at the reaction, before understanding in a moment of absolute clarity.
"Andréa, I think we should have a little chat."
"No, it's okay, we'll go," Andréa said quickly, already getting up. "I apologise once again and I," she sniffed, "I'll find a way of paying you back."
"I don' wanna go Mommy," the little girl protested.
"Then you should have listened to me and stayed quiet," Andréa said firmly, but not spitefully.
It was clear to Miranda that the woman was at the end of her tether; how she had not seen it before, she did not know.
"Andréa," she called as the woman disappeared around the corner. "Andréa don't go, have some hot chocolate, food. Then we'll talk."
"I can't," she said, a sob escaping as she reached for her things. "I can't do this with you."
"With me? I am not without a heart Andréa," Miranda said, more than a little hurt. "I had thought that you and I were -" she trailed off, not sure what they were.
"No, it's not that," she hissed, pulling her coat of a hanger with very little regard for the fabric. "It's not all about you."
Miranda's eyes nearly popped out of her head and she took a step back.
"I understand it's not all about me, but please Andréa, please stay. You may spend the night if you must, in fact," she kicked herself for not offering before. "You are more than welcome to."
"You want me, a lowly assistant to stay here, in your house?" Andréa laughed. "The last time I even went up the stairs, you nearly fired me."
"We have come a long way since then," Miranda said, stepping back from the situation. If she got as angry as Andréa was, then there would be no resolution and she would not get what she wanted, which was Andréa, upstairs in her den with a plate of food before her.
"Miranda."
"Do I have to order you to stay here Andréa?" Miranda said dangerously. "Because we both know that I am not beyond that."
It seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back, and Andréa dropped her hand from where she was trying to wrestle her daughter's coat from the hanger.
"I -"
"I know," Miranda said quietly. "Come."
It was the first time she'd touched her assistant, properly. The odd brush up against each other had not counted, and Miranda then felt how thin Andréa was.
"You need to eat," Miranda said firmly, retaking control of the situation with a look when Andréa looked as if she wanted to argue. "Tea and toast? I have a range of herbal?"
"I," she sighed as they entered the kitchen and found her daughter curled up on the floor with Patricia watching over her. "Fine."
Miranda nodded, nodding to a chair.
"I ordinarily would say you should move her, but she looks sound asleep and the floor is quite clean."
Andréa snorted, the first smile Miranda had seen all day, if she thought back.
"I cannot imagine your kitchen floor being anything but spotless Miranda," she paused, running her finger along a crack in the country style table. "She's slept on worse."
The thought made Miranda wince and she set about boiling the water and setting the toaster. It didn't take long and when Miranda thought about it, she was sure she hadn't had dinner, and so made herself some as well. Andréa's face was priceless as she sat down with her, sporting nutella on her own.
"I wasn't sure if you wanted it," Miranda smirked, passing over the jar and a knife.
"Who are you?" Andréa giggled, spreading a liberal amount on the bread.
The feeling was suddenly so domestic. Granted, nothing that Miranda had ever imagined, toast and nutella with Andréa while the woman's child napped on her dog. That was something she could never have imagined in her wildest dreams, but it still had that dreamlike feel to it. Miranda sipped her tea and watched Andréa eat. She tried to think back to work over the last few weeks. She hadn't noticed anything different about Andréa at all, but she knew that was her fault, rather than a lack of there being differences. What little she did notice during their busy run up to Christmas made her believe that Andréa had been struggling for a while, and had pushed on regardless, as only a mother could.
Andréa's yawn disturbed her thoughts and she realised that any talk would have to be postponed.
"Do you have things with you for her?" Miranda asked, smiling as Patricia lay her head on the child's knee. "What is her name by the way?"
"Kayla," Andréa said absently. "Well, Michaela. And I have some things," she paused awkwardly. "They don't allow us to store things at the shelter."
"Why didn't," she stopped herself, knowing exactly why Andréa hadn't said anything. "Never mind."
"I'll lose our place now," the woman said quietly. "We had the place over Christmas. It's so busy and there are fights and people coming down and -"
"Well," Miranda said, more than horrified. "That settles it, you'll stay here over Christmas. The girls, as you know, are away and I am here on my own. You don't even have to see me if you wish. I will keep to the upper levels and you may -"
"God, just stop," Andréa said looking horrified. "Of course I want to see you. Miranda, I'm not," she huffed. "I'm not kicking you out of your own home. This is your house, we'll just take one room, if you're sure, and we'll keep to it."
"Well," Miranda said, stifling a yawn. "We can work out the details tomorrow. How about I carry the little one and you may bring your bags?"
"I, she's pretty heavy," Andréa whispered, her hand against her stomach, "though I'm not supposed to, the doctor -"
"I shall be alright."
Her usual certain tone made Andréa nod and move away from the table. On the one hand, Miranda was dreading picking the child up and then traversing the three flights of stairs, but on the other hand, to do this for Andréa, especially after so long since her twins were this small, her heart melted a little.
"Sweetheart, can you stand up for me?"
The child, predictably, was barely awake as she climbed into Miranda's arms. Bracing herself, Miranda pushed up slowly, letting out a breath of relief as she stood to her full height. It felt good to have the weight of a child in her arms again. It was the one regret she had, not that her career would have allowed it, but as soon as the twins had been placed in her arms, she'd wanted to do it all again. The thoughts had frightened her, and she had ignored them, concentrating only on the babies she had, and her budding editorship. Both bloomed under her careful care, but the thought remained, in the back of her mind.
"Oh," Andréa said, seeing them in the hallway. "I was going to come and help."
"Nonsense," Miranda smirked. "I told you, I am more than capable."
"Of course," Andréa laughed. "You had two of them at once!"
"That was something," Miranda mused, nodding to the stairs. "Come, you're tired, this one's asleep. I shall get you situated."
They walked in silence to the second floor, where Miranda paused, contemplating where to put her guests.
"Upstairs I think," she muttered, smoothing Michaela's hair as she stirred.
"Miranda, I really -"
"Trust me Andréa," Miranda said, hoping she instilled more believability into her words than she felt.
Her thoughts were a little all over the place, something that did not happen very often. She had intended to put them in rooms downstairs, and once she'd made the decision to put them in the room down the hall from her, she'd found herself leading them to the room next door to her own.
"This is our best guest room," she muttered. "And the largest. If it's agreeable," Miranda contemplated. "Would you prefer Michaela to have her own room?"
"No, no it's fine. I," Andréa yawned. "Sorry, she's fine with me."
"Alright," Miranda nodded, thankful she'd finally decided. "Then we're agreed."
"Do I," Andréa sighed as Miranda placed the child down on the bed, smoothing back her hair as she did so, smiling at such an innocent little thing. "What would you like me to do in the morning, when do you want me to go?"
"Go?" Miranda asked. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I can't stay here all day, and you deserve some time off, with the Twins not here, and everything I can't imagine -"
"Andréa, tomorrow shall be the same as every morning for me while the girls are not here. I will simply be contemplating what to do on my own. Please, for the love of God, come and talk to me."
Andréa chuckled and nodded.
"Yes Miranda," she smiled. "I'm not sure how to thank you for this."
The whisper broke Miranda's heart and she stepped forward before realising that she had.
"Rest now," she said, reaching out to squeeze Andréa's all-too-thin bicep. "We'll talk tomorrow, and please, rest easy tonight. The house is fully alarmed; I have never had a break in in all the years we've lived here."
"They wouldn't dare," Andréa chuckled, the sparkle in her eye coming back for just a moment.
"Cheeky," Miranda smirked. "Good night Andréa."
"Good night Miranda," Andréa sighed. "And truly. You don't know what you're doing for us. It's," she nodded. "It's really special."
"Sleep well," Miranda said, backing out of the room and closing the door.
Everything Andréa needed was in the bathroom attached to the room and there was nothing left for her to do except lock up the house and try to coax Patricia off her bed. It happened every night the girls weren't around and though she tried to dissuade the big dog, Miranda secretly loved feeling Patricia's warm body heat on her feet. Smiling and ruffling the big dog's ears, she made her own preparations for bed and settled down, not even able to read a few pages of her novel before closing her eyes.
For the first time in so long, she fell asleep smiling.