As Andy Sachs walked towards the fountain in Paris, she looked down at the phone in her hand. Miranda. Her first instinct was, of course, to answer, but she mentally scoffed at the Pavlovian response. After all, the preceding months had trained her to ask how high on her way up each time Miranda had ordered her to jump. Though, since no one ever asked Miranda anything, Andy just aimed for the sky and hoped for the best as she leaped into the unknown. Her lips curved in rueful smile as she heard her mother's voice floating through her mind. Just because Emily jumps off a cliff, does that mean you have to follow? Andy chuckled softly, the sound leaving a bitter residue in the crisp air. She hadn't actually jumped this time, more slipped and fallen, was still falling, deeper and deeper every day. Now she found herself deeply in love with her ferocious boss with no hope of ever hitting bottom. It was that which had driven her to walk away, using Miranda's treatment of Nigel as her excuse.
The events of the James Holt luncheon had forced her to see the negligent way Miranda treated her subordinates and how the Dragon Lady rewarded loyalty. How long would it be before Andy felt the lash of Miranda's betrayal? She blinked back tears, realizing that it would kill her heart when that happened. And it would happen. Miranda cared for nothing and no one outside of her children and Runway. They defined the extent of her world and her heart. The rest was superfluous and easily discarded, to be ground under a Prada-clad heel when it suited Miranda's whim.
Andy reached out to toss the insistent phone into the fountain, but hesitated just before releasing it.
"Careful. You wouldn't want to drop that nice phone in the water," a deep voice cautioned.
Andy glanced to where an older man sat on a bench nearby. Reluctantly, she brought her hand with the phone back to her side.
"No, I suppose not," she murmured.
He tilted his head to the side and observed her for a moment.
"American, huh? Nice change from all the French accents I've heard this week. Paris is nice, but I miss a good cheeseburger, myself. What about you?" His voice was warm and comforting with its soft Midwestern accent.
"Yeah, me too. This definitely isn't home," Andy admitted.
"So you here for work or vacation? I mean, if you don't mind me asking?" He smiled a warm, genuine smile that felt good after the events of the last eight hours.
"Work, or at least, it was work. I'm not sure if it's anything now."
"Work not going well, then," he guessed and nodded towards the crowd of reporters across the street. "You with that circus? Whatever it is they're wound up about, I'm sure it'll die down by tomorrow."
She had no idea what the next day would bring, nor the next hour. What it wouldn't bring, she realized, was Miranda in all her frigid, fiery glory, and in that moment Andy realized not seeing Miranda every day was a far worse concept than what the ruthless woman might later do to her heart. She sighed and glanced back to where the iconic white coiffure was just disappearing through the doorway across the square, a deep clinching feeling in her chest at the sight. Not being in Miranda's presence was a known and immediate detriment, whereas the events of some far off someday…
"It tends to be like that around my boss," Andy commented. "You don't know what's going to happen from moment to moment, but you know it'll turn bad soon enough."
He nodded in understanding. "Well, like they say, forewarned is forearmed. You can always prepare for the bad, protect yourself from the fall out."
The phone gave off its tone again, a certain stridence to the ringtone that only Miranda's calls could achieve. With a sigh Andy answered.
"Yes, Miranda…Just a breath of fresh air…Right…I'll be right there." Ending the call, Andy turned back toward the venue, and with an absent wave to the man, she hurried across the street as fast as her Jimmy Choo's would allow. Well, forewarned is forearmed, as he said, she thought as she pushed her way through the milling reporters. She'd just have to fortify her heart as best she could against the day Miranda finally betrayed her as well. Andy never a doubted for a moment that such a day would come to pass.
Kathryn Janeway strolled into the conference room, sipping from the ever-present cup of steaming coffee. Settling into her accustomed chair, she mused on the fact that she truly loved the drink, the hotter the better, almost as much as she loved… Her eyes latched onto the svelte blonde that sat at the other end of the conference table, and the stalwart captain heaved a mental sigh before pushing the thought away. This was neither the time nor the place to become fixated on her strange fascination where the young woman was concerned. Janeway was convinced such thoughts were entirely inappropriate. Starfleet captains did not spend their time gazing at their much younger Astrometics officers. No matter how beautiful…luscious…voluptuous…sexy…delicious… Slamming a fist on the table, she clamped off that chain of thought, oblivious to the rest of her staff's startled movements. Suddenly aware they were all now sitting at attention, she flushed slightly and covered by starting the meeting.
"Well, let's get to it. B'Elanna, report," Janeway growled.
Having already read the morning reports, Janeway listened on autopilot while her mind drifted once again to its favorite forbidden topic. Seven was wearing the blue biosuit today, the one that made her eyes an even deeper shade that reminded Janeway of the Sea of Mars. It always gave her the urge to immerse herself in their depths as she often had done in those clear waters. Janeway could remember the way her heart had raced with excitement as she'd slid into those cerulean depths for the first time, much as it did now when she looked into Seven's eyes. The explorer in her couldn't help but be intrigued by the mysteries she saw there, just as the woman in her warmed to the sweet fragility that she often glimpsed.
Janeway clutched at her coffee cup as a wave of dizziness washed over her, the room seeming to recede from her consciousness for a moment before slamming back with shocking clarity. She couldn't suppress a gasp as she slumped back in her chair.
"Captain!" Seven's voice cut through Janeway's fog, concern clear in the tone.
"I'm fine, Seven," Janeway assured as she ran a hand over her face. "Maybe a bit too much caffeine. Quickly deflecting the rest of the staff before they could become too concerned by her actions, Janeway asked, "Tuvok, you were saying?" She wasn't at all surprised that Seven had been the first to react. The tall blonde was always the quickest to respond to any seeming difficulty her captain had. Borg reflexes, Janeway thought as she often had, once again experiencing a warm feeling at being the object of Seven's attentions. But again, Janeway pushed the thoughts away. No, Seven was simply loyal to her new collective and its perceived queen, not to Kathryn personally. If those clear blue eyes seemed to be focused on her a bit more than they had in the past, it was only Seven's internal directive to ensure the safety of the collective and by extension its leader. It had nothing to do with Janeway as a person, a woman.
It was her last thought as the dizziness returned to pull her down into darkness.