Disclaimer: Miranda Priestly and Andrea 'Andy' Sachs are the property of Twentieth Century Fox and Lauren Weisberger, and I am just borrowing them and taking them for a spin. No copyright infringement intended.
Pairing: Miranda/Andy (MirAndy)
Rating: A/U Alternate Universe. PG—NC-17 depending on chapter.
Summary: Miranda Priestly is a resistance leader in the Danish countryside during WW2 with Andrea Sachs as her aide-de-camp. Every new assignment means putting their lives on the line, but other events forcing them closer together on a personal level prove to be just as lethal - to their hearts.
Dark Horizon
By Gun Brooke
MirAndy A/U Fan Fiction
-~o0o~-
Part Two
Miranda Priestly kept to strict routines each morning. She always woke up around 6 am, and pulled on a navy blue silk robe. After a quick visit to the bathroom, she had only one thought in her head; coffee. Nowadays, real coffee was damn near impossible to come by, and she had to settle for the coffee substitutes, which taste horrible, but gave her enough caffeine to not be in the mood to kill her entire staff on sight.
After the much needed coffee, she returned to the bathroom and had a quick, steamy bath. She donned her impeccable makeup and swiftly put up her silver-white hair in her trademark style, with one lock almost covering her left eye. She had not been clear on whether to be amused or annoyed when she some of the junior sales women try to copy her. Miranda usually wore a dark skirt and a white cotton blouse, no jewelry, except for a gold watch she inherited from her mother years ago.
Miranda didn't allow herself to become nostalgic or too philosophical, but it was something about mornings, about waking up alone, that sometimes corroded her steely resolve. That's when thoughts of the twins surfaced, and when that happened, Miranda almost felt sorry for her staff, and for her resistance fighters. She would be in such a bad mood, only her business sense would help her remain cordial to customers…and to the Germans.
The Germans. Hitler and everyone who carried out his instructions, his blood thirst and prejudice convictions –Miranda hated them all. She had brought her young girls with her from England to Denmark, but in two years ago, in 1940; she had received words only a few days before April 9 that an invasion might be imminent. Miranda decided to stay in Denmark, but she wanted her girls out, so she sent them back to live with their father in the English countryside. Her former husband had been a lousy husband, but he did love his children and Miranda knew Caroline and Cassidy would be safe. She also knew she would miss them, but she hadn't counted on it feeling like being gutted with a dull knife.
This morning, however, Miranda's normal routine was completely thrown out the window. When she woke up, she flinched as she realized that the weight she'd struggled with was an arm belonging to someone else. Someone who was snuggled up behind her, spooning her closely, like a lover would.
Her mind fuzzy, Miranda tried to figure out if she'd gone too far in her way to lull the Germans' suspicious mind by taking one of them to bed. Just then, the hand belonging to the arm around her waist began to move upward, and Miranda grabbed it quickly, as it neared her right breast. She glanced at the hand. It was decidedly female, well-manicured, but bruised and swollen. Andrea!
Miranda pivoted, Andrea's arm moving around her. Her hand ended up at the small of Miranda's back. The way the young woman curled up next to her created goose-bumps on her arms and thighs. Chastising herself, Miranda checked Andrea's bandage, relieved to see it was dry and no sign of infection or bleeding.
"Mm. No." Andrea frowned and squirmed, her hand around Miranda's waist restless. "Got to, got to hurry. Don't. Don't hurt…her…" Andrea's lips began to tremble and it became clear to Miranda that she was having a nightmare. Carefully, Miranda touched Andrea's upper arm.
"Andrea. Wake up. You're dreaming."
No reaction other than a soft gasp and a solitary tear escaping through ridiculously long lashes.
"Wake up, Andrea. Com e on now." Miranda held Andrea's shoulder gently and shook it. "Open your eyes. Everything is all right." At a loss what to do to shake Andrea out of whatever was tormenting her, Miranda leaned over her, feeling her forehead. To her relief, Andrea's forehead was cool, so it wasn't feverish hallucinations.
"Take me instead," Andrea murmured. "Just don't hurt her. Please. Please…" Now gasping for air, Andrea opened her eyes and stared up at Miranda. "You have to hide. Please, don't let them take you, Miranda. They'll torture you. I've heard horrible stories that they—Miranda?" Suddenly sounding more awake, Andrea stared up at her boss, blinking repeatedly. "What happened?"
"You tell me." Miranda sat up, acutely aware of her body's betrayal as she came to the conclusion that Andrea had been dreaming of her. "You had a nightmare. What was it about?"
"Oh. Right." Blushing profusely, Andrea picked at the blanket. "I, eh, I dreamed of the Germans. Of interrogations. You know." She shuddered.
So, Andrea was too embarrassed to admit dreaming about her? Thinking back to the words Andrea had muttered and the torment in her voice, it was obvious that she had feared something bad happening to Miranda. Not about to put Andrea on the spot, Miranda began to pull back.
"Well, it's time to go up, so—"
"Miranda." Wide-eyed, Andrea placed a trembling hand on Miranda's arm.
Miranda returned Andrea's startled gaze. Nobody touched Miranda Priestly, unless she instigated it. Miranda felt the tremors in Andrea's hand, and something alien flooded her, something close to protectiveness, perhaps even tenderness. This shocked her even more since she had put a fortified lid on such emotions from the day she shipped off the twins. Suddenly angry and embarrassed, Miranda stood, tugging on her robe.
"As I said, time to go up. I will have the cook prepare breakfast for you. Dr. Andersen will no doubt stop by later today to check on you. Take the opportunity to rest until he does. Once he says it's all right, you can return to work."
"Yes, Miranda." Andy's voice sounded subdued, and she swallowed hard. "Thank you."
"I—I will be in my office all day. In case you need something, just use the telephone. That's all." Miranda tightened the belt and left the bedroom, trying to avoid the truth hiding in the back of her mind. Surely the urge to hold Andrea was merely a temporary weakness on her part?
Andy only remained in bed until she heard Miranda exit the apartment. She listened intently for a few moments and then she carefully put her feet on the floor. Standing up, she was relieved to find that the dizziness and headache from last night was almost gone entirely. She padded into the bathroom, wincing at the sight of her bruised face, and wondered how much makeup it would take to cover it. How would she be able to get back to work in the department store when she looked like a walking train wreck? She stuck her tongue out toward her reflection. Maybe Miranda could let her work in the office, or the warehouse?
Looking around for her clothes, Andrea couldn't find them anywhere. Granted, her stockings had been torn to shreds, but surely her skirt and blouse had made it?
"Ms. Sachs?" A female voice behind her made her jump. Andy turned around too fast, nearly toppling over.
"Oh, you startled me."
"I'm sorry, miss." The older woman was dressed in a blue dress and a white apron. "I'm Rakel, the cook."
"Rakel. Oh, that's right. I recognize you. Eh…I was just looking for something to wear."
"Ms. Miranda told me to tell you, you could pick anything from her closet."
Baffled, Andy stared at Rakel. The cook was a stunning, dark haired woman in her early sixties, her temples greying, but with young skin and a proud stance.
"Are you sure, Rakel?" Andy frowned. "Her closet?"
"Yes. It is the door just inside her bedroom. I'll go with you, Ms. Sachs. I might as well make the bed."
Afraid that Rakel would see that they'd shared the bed, Andy tried to forestall it. "No, I can manage, I—"
It was too late; Rakel was already inside the bedroom. Andy sighed and followed her in. Feeling her cheeks warm as the other woman stopped momentarily and just looked at the bed, Andy fled toward the closet. To her relief it was a large walk-in closet, which held a multitude of stunning clothes. Andy limped inside, suddenly feeling her knee stinging under the bandage. She looked for something that would be comfortable and not too luxurious, which seemed a futile mission until her eyes fell upon several hangers at the far end of the closet. She knew Miranda sometimes shocked the more conservative ladies of Stavnsdal by wearing trousers and Andy had always thought it looked so comfortable. It would surely be clever to hide the bruises and bandage on her leg. Curious as to how they would fit her, Andy grabbed a pair of charcoal grey trousers and a white cotton blouse. As for underwear, she was going to have to dig deep for courage and look in Miranda's dresser in the bedroom.
Andy tiptoed past the busy cook and opened the top drawer in the large oak dresser over at the far wall of the bedroom. Ignoring her reflection in the mirror hanging above it. She felt her cheeks warm at the sight of the silk underwear. The thought of wearing something of Miranda's against the most private part of her body caused her fingers to tremble, but she merely grabbed the panties laying on top, and what looked like a matching sleeveless top. She didn't even consider Miranda's bras since that's where their bodies seemed to be most different. Andy was by far the most voluptuous in that department. She hurried out as fast as her stiff knee would allow and stepped into the bathroom.
Carefully, to not disrupt any bandages, Andy washed up, reveling in the scent of Miranda's soap. The washcloth felt wonderful against her skin, and it reminded her how it had felt to wake up practically in Miranda's arms. Or with her arm around Miranda as it were. Andy had been aware of her crush on her stern, demanding boss for some time now, but she had never even dared to dream about Miranda touching her. Andy knew there were rude words for women who went for other women, but in no way could she make those vile insults fit in with how Miranda made her feel. People were quick to judge, she mused as she slipped into Miranda's underwear. They assumed that if they didn't know or understand, then it was plain wrong and men of the church called such things an abomination. Andy, who had to fend for herself since she was fourteen, was less prone to judge anyone, knowing that survival meant having to do things you never thought you'd ever do. Couldn't the same be said for love? You fell in love, and if that was in an unconventional way, then you did what you had to do for your heart to survive. Wait a minute, she thought, stopping as she'd pulled the sleeveless silk top over her head. It strained a bit across her breasts, but helped keep them from bouncing and moving around. Wait a damn minute. 'Love'? Where did that concept come from when she thought of Miranda? Yes, a crush, certainly. A bit star struck with the stylish, collected English woman, for sure, but that was far from actually being in love. Andy shook her head as if it was possible to rid herself of such a silly notion that way.
Donning the trousers were a little more difficult than she had reckoned with, due to her stiff knee, but eventually she fastened them around her waist and pivoted to glance over her shoulder, checking her backside in the mirror. Not a bad fit, considering they were probably tailor made for Miranda's slightly more curvaceous hips. They seemed to have the same waist measurement though. Andy put on the blouse and tucked it into the waistband of the trousers. Smiling at herself, at how different she looked, taller, even, she located her shoes under the sink. They still looked all right so she put them on. There. Once the doctor had checked on her, she would be able to return to work.
Work. Andy grimaced at the bruises on her face. Well, not looking like that. Bolder now, since Miranda had given her permission to use anything in her closet, she opened the cabinet to the right of the mirror. There, a multitude of makeup bottles, lipsticks and such competed for space on the crowded shelves. Andy recognized a few of the brands, and lit up when she saw several Max Factor pan-cake foundations. She wasn't used to wearing makeup either than some lipstick, but it wasn't hard to gently apply some coverage to the bruises and the rest of her face. She looked quite different, not her rosy self, but instead pale and…well, kind of interesting, if you disregarded the impossible hairdo, due to the bandage. Suddenly a thought struck Andy and she hurried back to the bedroom and found a drawer full of scarves. She picked a dark grey one, to match the trousers, and tied it around her head and finished it around her hair in a sort of low ponytail.
"Not too shabby," Andy murmured and then jumped when there was a knock on the bathroom door.
"I have prepared breakfast for you, Ms. Sachs—"
"Andy. Please, call me Andy, Rakel." Opening the door, Andy smiled at the cook. "I think we should be on a first name bases, as we are both employees here."
"Very well," Rakel said, her smile a little warmer than before. "Do you wish to eat in the dining room or the kitchen?"
"Oh, please, the kitchen," Andy said, startled. "I don't think I'd be comfortable sitting perched in the dining room. Too posh for me."
This made Rakel chuckle. "Then I will keep you company if it's all right."
"I would love some company. To be truthful, I feel a bit wobbly still."
"I can tell from your bruises, or I should say, I could tell before you magically made them disappear, that you'd been in a bad accident. Ms. Miranda didn't give me any details either than you needed something to eat, and to expect Dr. Andersen in a few hours."
As they sat down at the kitchen table, which was dressed in a flowery table cloth, Andy told Rakel about her ordeal the previous night, leaving out the reason for her being out so late. "And since it was closer for them to bring me to my employer than to my cottage on the outskirts of Stavnsdal, that's how I ended up here." Andy cleared her throat, suddenly embarrassed again. "I'm sure it must seem weird that I spent the night in Miranda's bed."
"It's none of my business, Andy, but I'm sure Ms. Miranda wanted to have you close by in case your condition became worse."
Relieved, Andy exhaled. "Yes. That's exactly it." She sipped the coffee Rakel had just poured. "Oh, my goodness. Not bad for being substitute."
"Ms. Miranda makes sure she gets her hands on the best." Rakel grinned, something that altered her severe features. Her dark brown eyes glittered. "Another perk to be employed here."
"For sure."
They finished their breakfast in amicable silence, and when Andy was done, she was quite happy to go back to the bedroom and curl up on the bed. Rakel ended up supporting her the last few steps as she became increasingly lightheaded. "I'm just going to have a little nap," she told Rakel who now looked concerned again. "Head is just hurting a little bit."
"Dr. Andersen should be here soon."
"Mm? All right. Wake me then, please?" Andy felt slurry, and she pulled a pillow from the opposite side of the bed close and curled up around it. It smelled of Miranda and she inhaled the oddly comforting scent. "Miranda," she whispered and drifted off to sleep.
Miranda lifted the receiver, frowning at being disturbed again. Nobody seemed to be able to make a decision on their own today, to save their lives.
"Miranda," she barked.
"Ms. Miranda, this is Rakel."
"Something wrong with Andrea?" Miranda found herself on her feet before she realized she stood up.
"No. Well, I'm actually not sure. She became very tired after breakfast and I had to support her when she went back to bed. She was actually slurring."
"Slurring. Is Dr. Andersen there yet?"
"He just arrived and is in there with her now. I just figured you would like to know."
"I did. I'll be right up. Don't let the doctor leave before I talk to him."
"I won't, Ms. Miranda."
Miranda walked past her assistant who frowned and checked her watch. "Your meeting with Mr. Christoffersen—"
"Postpone it to this afternoon."
"Yes, Miranda."
Dashing up the stairs, Miranda thought the sound of her own heels was ear-deafening. She flung the door opened and strode through her hallway toward the bedroom. Inside, she felt her heart skip several beats as Dr. Andersen had pulled all the pillows away and had Andrea lying flat on her back.
"Now, follow my finger with your eyes. No, not your head. Your eyes, Ms. Sachs." He moved his finger back and forth, and then hummed enigmatically. "You are not quite fit for duty yet, Ms. Sachs."
"Oh, but I have to be," Andrea said, sounding indeed slurry. "I must work. Miranda won't want me to just…just…"
"Just what, Andrea?" Miranda stepped up to the bed. "Doctor?"
"Ah, Ms. Priestly. Ms. Sachs is definitely showing symptoms of a mild concussion and I recommend she will take it very easy for two, three days. She can be up, and if accompanied, she can take walks, but she shouldn't be alone, and above all, she shouldn't work."
"Naturally. I'll make sure she rests and that she's monitored." Miranda nodded briskly. "Please bill the department store, Doctor."
"Very well."
"What? No. N-no." Andrea struggled to sit up, and Rakel showed up from nowhere and pushed some pillows back under her head.
"You will not argue, Andrea." Miranda sat down on the bed. Andrea had clearly found her makeup since the bruises had disappeared, unless you know exactly what to look for. "Your cottage might look cute, but it is a drafty old house where you have nobody to care for you. You will stay here."
"I feel I'm imp-imposing." Andrea shuddered and the doctor felt her forehead.
"Better put one more blanket on her. She's running a slight fever. I don't see any signs of infection anywhere, but I will leave a prescription at the pharmacy in case she begins to show definite signs."
"Very well. Anything else?" Miranda asked.
"Same as ever. Plenty of fluids. Rest." Dr. Andersen smiled. "And call me tomorrow if you have any questions. Naturally before then if Ms. Sachs gets worse."
"Thank you, Doctor." Miranda looked down at Andrea who was returning her gaze with slightly glazed over eyes. "Listen. You are not imposing. You're my employee, and thus, my responsibility. Just relax and let me and Rakel take care of you. All right?" Miranda knew she acted completely out of character by not barking it as an order, but rather asking the girl to stay at her apartment.
"I…I had to borrow your underwear, Miranda. I'm sorry." Her lips quivering, Andrea looked embarrassed.
"Naturally. I threw your dirty clothes in the hamper and the torn ones in the garbage. I told Rakel you could use anything of mine. When you are feeling better, you can pick a few items out in the store."
"I can't afford that. I mean, I would love to, they're lovely things, but I can't."
"As a gift, naturally." Miranda frowned. "You're saying I don't pay you well enough to shop here?"
"No, no, it's not that. I have—responsibilities." Andrea looked away, her face blank.
Miranda was curious now, but knew this was not the place to ask about personal matters. She noticed how Andrea clung to the pillow Miranda had used the previous night and inhaled deeply. This stirred something in Miranda, something that fluttered from her chest down to the pit of her stomach. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Rakel was escorting the doctor to the door. Not concerned for a moment what Rakel might think, Miranda went to close the bedroom door.
Returning to the bed, Miranda sat down, cautiously feeling Andrea's forehead to get an idea how hot she was. She glanced down at the white blouse, and the trousers, and had to admit that Andrea knew how to assemble and outfit.
"Just relax now," Miranda said and placed a hesitant hand on Andrea's shoulder. "You're safe here."
"I'm afraid."
"Whatever for, silly girl?" Miranda frowned.
"I just don't understand," Andrea said, tugging the blanket closer. "I really don't."
"Well, that makes two of us," Miranda said. "We will deal with everything in due time. Just close your eyes. I'll sit here a while."
Andrea turned her glossy brown eyes on Miranda. "I'd like that."
"Then close your eyes and just relax. That's it." Miranda saw the tension slowly leave Andrea's features and she found she couldn't take her eyes off her. The soft full lips seemed to beg for kisses, especially the way they looked now, without lipstick.
"Smell so good…" Andrea murmured. "Always."
Miranda valiantly resisted the urge to outline Andrea's face with her fingertips. Instead she tucked the blanket around her, inadvertently touching the side of Andrea's breasts. She was clearly not wearing a bra. Gasping, Miranda pulled her hands back, her heart now thundering painfully in her chest. What the hell was going on? Had she gone out of her mind, to react to an employee, a woman, no matter how beautiful, this way? Miranda had not indulged in any personal relationship since her girls left Denmark. Really not since after the divorce. It simply wasn't worth all the hassle. To endure such a powerful physical reaction, and to a girl nearly half her age, was deeply disturbing. Still, all Miranda had to do was look at the sleeping Andrea, and the way she clung to the Miranda's pillow, to feel the exquisite tremors begin anew.
Miranda stood, affording Andrea one more pensive look before leaving the room to inform Rakel of the new arrangement.
