She woke the next morning to a giggle that was unfamiliar. It took her a few minutes of trying to ignore it, before she cracked open her eyes and looked around. She gaped at the scene before her. There was a small child on her bed, putting barrettes in Patricia's fur. Luckily, Miranda had had Patricia before the girls had made their appearance, so she was well acquainted with hair pulling and small children. Miranda chuckled, remembering the mischief her own two got up to when they were about Michaela's age.

"Good morning little sunshine," she said groggily.

"Hi, what's your name pwetty w-ady?"

Miranda couldn't help it, she laughed at the line and for one reason or another, patted the spot beside her. Michaela smiled and scooted up the bed, but not before leaving a big kiss on Patricia's nose.

"My name is Miranda," she answered.

"I'm Kaywa. My Mommy said that I have to be good. Am I being good Miwanda?"

She winced at the attempt on her name, but didn't say anything. The child was too cute for words and she found herself unable to care how she said her name.

"I think so," Miranda said, uncharacteristically short on answers. "Have you been snooping through the house?"

"No," the little girl blinked.

"Drawn on any walls?"

"Nope."

"Raided my fridge?"

"No."

"Left your Mother without telling her?"

"Well, I didn't actuawy not te-w her," Michaela said with a wince. "But I's wiv you now, so it's otay."

Miranda chuckled again, unable to find a problem with that logic. Remembering her own two, she wondered if Michaela was up for good now, or would soon succumb to sleep once more.

"Would you like to get under the covers?" she asked, noticing the frigid air outside the bed for the first time. She glanced down at the little feet, sans socks, and reached out to check how cool they were. "Gracious child, you're frozen. You'll turn into a ice cube. Under the covers with you please."

"Otay," Michaela grinned, scampering head first under the covers. After a little bit of scurrying, Miranda found her again, as her head popped back out, not too far away. "It's warm in here," she smiled.

"It is," Miranda agreed. "Lay still now, alright?"

Miranda could already see her eyes drooping and lay very still until they closed of their own accord. The warm covers and the soft bed had done the trick and she pulled on her robe, nipping to the loo before settling down to read some of her novel until Andréa noticed she had lost something.

She heard the frantic foot steps on the balcony above the stairs and called out softly.

"Andréa?"

She knew the thought of entering your boss' bedroom was a scary thought - especially when your boss was herself, but she wanted Andréa to feel at peace here. That seemed to be important, thought she couldn't work out why. She realised belatedly that she didn't have an make-up on either; it was a sobering thought.

"Oh my gosh, Miranda, I'm so sorry, I don't know how she got out, I'd tried to make sure she couldn't. I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright Andréa, she woke me as she was styling Patricia's hair - not the first time a child or two has done so - I coaxed her under the covers as her feet were cold. I do hope I have not overstepped."

"God," Andréa groaned, dropping to sit on the bed quite heavily. "My life is a shit heap," she winced. "Sorry, not at all. Thank you for taking care of her."

"Quite alright," Miranda said, placing her bookmark. "Do you need to eat yet? It's been a long time since I had morning sickness."

"Thank everybody who's watching over me," she crossed fingers on both hands and showed Miranda, blushing afterwards at the childish gesture. "No morning sickness."

"How far?"

"Eleven weeks," she whispered. "I, I nearly, when it was really bad wished -"

There were tears in Andréa's eyes, but Miranda wasn't sure what she meant and how it was upsetting.

"Kayla was a surprise too, but we were stable back then. We were both poor as dirt, but we were happy. What kind of mother wishes that her unborn child," she gulped as she dissolved into tears, "wasn't."

"Andréa," Miranda whispered, getting up to join her erstwhile assistant at the foot of the bed. "It's not a sin to think these things, especially in times of stress. You, of all people Andréa, can never be accused of being malicious or nasty. I do not believe it's in your character. Have you gone out of the way to hurt yourself, or your baby?"

"No," she said quietly.

"Then there is nothing to it."

"I knew you were different at home," she muttered. "The girls could not have turned out so well if you weren't," she paled when she realised what she'd said. "I mean -"

"I know very well what you mean," Miranda said gently. "The way I act at Runway is not the way to raise children - procure the best from people who don't beige on themselves? Definitely, but not for children."

"You're pretty amazing you know," Andréa whispered. Miranda was about to answer, but Andrea had already moved to the door. "May I get you a cup of coffee?"

"You may," Miranda smirked letting the subject go. "Mugs are in the cupboard over the knife block, tea next to them."

"I'll work it out," Andréa smiled, leaving Miranda with her child without a thought.

Miranda leant back against the covers and delved into her mind. The thoughts that she had ignored previously were overwhelming once she let them have the space to move and grow. The idea of Andréa in trouble, living in a shelter through Christmas made her growl, and she chuckled in surprise of herself. Somewhere between the awfulness that was Paris, and the brilliance of all that came after those four missing days, she'd fallen in love with Andréa Sachs.

"Here you are," Andréa smiled.

"Thank you," Miranda said quietly. "Perhaps we'd be better taking this in the sitting room next door. You'll like it, I'm sure."

Andréa shrugged and followed Miranda into the room on the other side of Miranda's. And the Editor was right, Andréa's gasp made her smile, even as she snuggled into her favourite seat.

"Wow," Andréa whispered.

"It is rather isn't it," Miranda chuckled at the gleeful smile Andréa was wearing. The room was small, cozy, but dark and snug, save for one floor to ceiling, wall to wall window that looked out over the houses to their East and into Central Park.

"I would give my soul for just one room like this," Andréa said, forgetting her tea and walking over to the bookshelves.

Contrary to her Runway persona, home Miranda was not quite so organised. At work, she knew where everything was, and woe betide whoever knocked that order into chaos. At home, however, she liked things a little less rigid. As such, her library shelves, both in this room and the one downstairs were overflowing with books that were in no order. They were not even all the right way. Andréa turned to look at her, and Miranda couldn't help but laugh.

"They're in no order. Occasionally I take the step-ladder and move the top shelf ones onto the bottom, so we read them instead, but all of our favourite books are in the middle there, and downstairs in the sitting room."

"I quite like this side of you," Andréa said quietly.

Miranda's breath hitched and she wondered whether Andréa had picked up her feelings. She found it unlikely as she'd only just realised them herself, so she merely shrugged and sipped her coffee.

"Oh," she moaned. The temperature was perfect, the taste. Everything about it was perfect and she groaned again when she took another sip. "What am I going to do without you?" she muttered absently.

"I -"

Miranda looked up to see Andréa trailing her fingers forlornly over the books. Miranda watched her for a moment, wondering at the turn of mood until she realised what she'd said.

"Oh, Andréa," she chuckled. "I'm not firing you," Miranda clarified.

Andréa ran her hands through her long hair, and Miranda knew that the time to talk was now, while the little one was asleep, being watched over by Patricia.

"Come, sit." Miranda said, patting the sofa next to her.

"I -"

"No no," Miranda interrupted, patting Andréa's hand. "Let me talk, and then you can, alright?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Andréa said quietly.

"I'm doing whichever is what you need."

Andréa chuckled and nodded, settling back against the sofa, turning just a little towards her.

"You had your child when you first worked for me, she was living with you I mean?" Miranda asked, eager to clarify that one part.

"I," Andréa frowned. "Yes, I've had her since she was born."

"No, you misunderstand," Miranda smirked, detecting the surely-you're-not-that-stupid tone of voice Andrea used. "I meant that while I was running you ragged in that first," she shrugged, "year of your employment, you had a baby at home?"

"She's not really a baby, and she understood. Nate looked after her to begin with, but," she winced. "We weren't making enough money." Miranda nodded, but didn't say anything, letting Andréa continue with the story. "By that time, I'd moved into the enlightened stage, as I like to call it, and I had a few favours I could call in. It pays to be nice sometimes," she muttered, looking up immediately. "I didn't mean -"

"I know you didn't mean it maliciously, but you're right all the same. I wouldn't know."

"You're nice to me," Andréa said quietly, as if only just realising it. "You're," she paused, looking up and studying Miranda's face. "You're really nice to me."

"Yes, well. Don't spread it around, they'll commit you," Miranda grinned at her own joke. Andréa didn't though, and she looked as if she wa going to say more on the topic. "Don't change the subject. What happened."

"Oh, well we were too poor to put her in a childcare centre, and the community ones were full. It turns out that Auto Universe has a creche. Can you believe that?"

Miranda in fact, could not. It brought a whole new light onto what was going on in her building that she had never deigned to see.

"Anyway, one of the boys was in a real spot of bother with his editor, and I offered to look over his work for him, if he could get Kayla a spot in their centre. He agreed, and we had to pretend that she was his kid, one that he'd just found out he had, and we'd meet downstairs out the back once I was done."

"You were proof-reading his work?" Miranda screeched, her brain slamming to a halt. "When on earth were you doing that?"

"Oh, I wasn't doing it on company time," Andréa said, her hands out in surrender. "Not even while I was waiting for the book. "I did it once Kayla was at home in bed."

"What did you do with her once you had the book?"

"We took the subway," Andréa shrugged. "Unless Roy was waiting. He was really good about it."

"Roy? My driver?"

"Um, yeah. I was walking out with her, and we stumbled across him as I was trying to hail a cab. He's driven us ever since."

"In my car?"

"Well, no," Andréa shrugged. "I didn't want you to think I was using you behind your back."

Miranda couldn't wrap her mind around all the things that were going on, right under her nose. The thought that Andréa had been struggling through this, on her own was horrifying to her.

"And this Nate person? Is he the cook?"

"Um, chef, but yeah. He's Kayla's dad. As soon as I had Kayla, and," she rolled her eyes, "working for you I changed. And I guess he didn't. He was still going out, getting wasted and coming home. I didn't have the time to give to him, and Kayla and it was her over him every time."

"I know that problem all too well," Miranda said into her coffee mug. "And this one?" she prompted, motioning to Andréa's stomach.

"Um, yeah," Andréa winced. "A lapse in judgement. Nate came home with flowers and I was lonely. I love Kayla with all my heart, but sometimes I just -"

"Another feeling I know well," Miranda said quietly. "And where is the cook now?"

"Boston. When he got a job offer there, he took off. Didn't tell me, just left a set of relinquishing parental rights form on the kitchen table and took off. Without him working, I couldn't afford the rent, so I sold a lot of things, boxed up a few - they're at Nigel's place. I told him I just needed the room. He doesn't know about Kayla either."

"And where do you leave her now?"

"Sometimes Brad will take her, the guy from Auto Universe, but he has a wife and a baby on the way, so I don't like to do that unless it's an emergency."

"I am absolutely floored," Miranda said, leaning back and studying Andréa. "Either you are very good at being careful, or I am truly the one with her head up her ass."

"Miranda!" Andréa nearly yelled. It felt good to curse, she didn't indulge often, and when she did, she felt like a naughty child, stealing sweets from her grandparent's humbug jar.

"What happened in Paris?"

It was the one thing they never concluded. Miranda had thrown Nigel under a bus, cementing her own career while destroying his. Then, she'd pushed the best assistant out of her life for good, while trying to pay her a backhanded compliment and attempting not to feel the sting of another divorce. All she was thinking about was getting home to her children and discussing the situation with them, and Andréa had been grating on her nerves at the time.

"She had appendicitis," Andréa said. "I apologise if I made it sound like you were at fault for doing what you did. I know what you did was for your own safety, Runway really couldn't have flourished under those people," she spat, "but my baby was sick and I needed to get home."

"And you couldn't have come to me?"

"You were knee deep in Fashion Week, going through a divorce, just stabbed your best friend in the back and mad at me for going out with CHristian, and don't tell me you weren't because I know you know."

"Well," Miranda said, unsure what to say to that.

"I had to go home, and I couldn't think of what else to do, especially after what you'd said to me before we went out there. I came back though."

"You did," Miranda sighed. She remembered walking in, once she'd taken the weekend to discuss Stephen with the girls, and seeing Andréa typing on her computer as if she'd never walked away. They had never mentioned it, though all who had been there knew. THey didn't discuss it either; at least, not within earshot of her.

"Andréa, I'm going to tell you something that you might not realise. I'm not a bitch."

Andréa howled with laughter. Her hand came to rest on Miranda's thigh, making a searing hot impression through Miranda's silk pyjama bottoms.

"Oh, oh I know that," Andréa said, catching a few tears with her fingers. "God, I know that Miranda. I hope I never made you feel like I didn't."

"Quite," Miranda said, not sure what to say to that. "However, the fact remains that I understand what it's like to have nothing. We grew up in abject poverty and were it not for one small act of kindness, I would not be here. So," she took a deep breath. "I want you to move in."

"What?" Andréa screeched. "Are you crazy I can't do that, they'll crucify you. What am I going to do when they find out I'm here. An Editor that they label so viciously, shacked up with a young woman, Miranda, be serious."

"I am," Miranda said, trying to impress upon Andréa the truth. "And I would not be averse to hearing those stories, because I would know the truth."

"Mommy I'm hungwy," a little voice came from the door, ending their talk with a smile.

"We can't have that," Miranda said as she watched Andréa welcome the child onto her knee. "How about we go downstairs and make something. Pancakes?"

"YEY!" the girl cheered. "Can you make bunny ones?"

"No," Miranda said, poking the little girl in the tummy. "But I am very good at Mickey Mouse."

Andréa laughed again as they walked from the room, and Miranda decided that she was going to make Andréa laugh as much as possible. That, coupled with the beaming smile and bright eyes made the world seem perfect to Miranda, and she knew she would need a plan to follow if she had any hope of making this beautiful woman see that she was interested.

Not that she knew whether Andréa was even accepting of the idea. Miranda had long since known she was attracted to women, but a woman in her position needed to be married to fit the criteria society set out for her. Well, she was past working her way to the top. She was done being a martyr for society. She thought she could have a real future with Andréa and she was determined now, to get one.