In no time, Andrea had dozens of garment bags full of clothes loaded into the trunk of the towncar. Anticipating Miranda would be finished with her treatment soon, Roy was about to leave when Andrea hopped into the backseat. She wanted to be there when Miranda was finished.

"So, I don't need to go pickup your bags and take them to your apartment?" Roy asked.

"No," Andrea said, pressing the button to raise the screen. Her emotions were on overdrive today, and the last thing she wanted was mindless smalltalk with Miranda's faithful driver.

As they waited outside the cancer center, Andrea closed her eyes and began rubbing her temples—anything to make the time go more quickly. The driver door opened, and Andrea saw Roy run around to open the other door. Andrea held her breath, physically shaking with nervousness. She couldn't remember the last time she felt like this.

As Miranda sat on the seat next to her, she jumped slightly, causing Miranda to turn and pull away her sunglasses.

Miranda smiled at her, and the young woman began to cry, quietly at first before it grew into full-out sobs. Miranda moved closer and draped her arm around her, holding her against her chest and softly running her fingers through her hair. Miranda didn't say a word, simply holding the woman and letting her cry. If she learned anything today, it was that she needed to consider Andrea's emotions instead of focusing only on herself.

As Andrea calmed, she looked up, staring into Miranda's red-rimmed eyes. "I'm so sorry, Miranda," she said, "I promised you I would be there, through everything, but I failed you. I let you down."

Her words deeply affected Miranda. How could this woman who had been there, at her side, twenty-four hours a day for the past seven months, possibly think she had failed her? "Shh," Miranda said. "You did not fail me, please. It was fine, nothing happened. I am very much capable of doing things on my own," she said.

"Yes, but—" Andrea protested.

Miranda pressed her lips to Andrea's, silencing the woman as she cupped her cheek with her hand. Andrea pulled away from the kiss, turning her head and taking Miranda's wrist in her hand, softly trailing kisses from her palm and down her wrist, her eyes never breaking gaze with the other woman's.

"Andreeea," Miranda quietly moaned as her eyes flickered shut. The car pulled up along the curb in front of the townhouse. Pulling her arm away, Miranda bit her upper lip and took a deep breath. "Let's go inside," she said, tilting her head towards the door.

Roy held the door open as the two women stepped out. "I'll bring the garment bags in," Roy said as he closed the door and headed to the trunk.

Miranda looked at Andrea, her eyebrow raised in question. "New wardrobe," Andrea said, smiling. Roy followed the women into the townhouse, Miranda taking her time as she set her bag on the table in the hall, untying her scarf and applying some lip balm. After two trips, Roy left, closing the door behind him. The dining room table was now covered in garment bags, no doubt nearly a million dollars worth of clothes haphazardly strewn about.

But Miranda didn't care about the clothes right now; she wanted to pick up where she left off with the brunette. Turning to the woman next to her, she slowly pushed her backwards against the closet door, crushing her lips to Andrea's. She gasped as Miranda took her lower lip between her teeth, her tongue quickly darting inside the woman's mouth. Andrea moaned, the feel of the older woman's tongue against hers sending a shiver through her body. Andrea snaked her arm up and pressed against her shoulder, gently nudging her away. When they parted, Miranda pressed her forehead against Andrea's, both struggling to calm their breathing. Andrea knew she couldn't continue, not now, not yet. She quickly kissed Miranda on the cheek and slipped away from her grasp, heading towards the kitchen.

"What would you like to eat?" Andrea asked, opening the fridge and surveying her options. She knew that if they had an early dinner, she would be able to get Miranda to enjoy a snack later before her symptoms started.

"Whatever we have in there, that's fine," she said, shaking her head and walking towards the den. As Andrea heated up some chicken and steamed some green beans, Miranda sat on the couch, lost in thought. She couldn't deny her body's reaction to the other woman, but the way in which Andrea walked away, Miranda couldn't quite understand. In these past few months, she had learned how to accept the woman's touch, to the point where she was more comfortable when Andrea's hands were on her than she was without. A year ago, she would have never let someone touch her face, run their hands through her hair and across her scalp. She even used to avoid shaking hands, she recalled, fondly remembering the first day Andrea stepped into her office and reached out her hand.

Andrea entered the den, two plates balanced on her arm, two glasses in the other hand, and a bottle of Pellegrino tucked under her arm, startling Miranda as she set the plate on the coffee table in front of her. "What were you thinking about?" she asked, pouring their water, obvious that she pulled Miranda from her thoughts.

"The day you came to interview at Runway," Miranda answered honestly.

"Ooh, any good thoughts?"

"I didn't shake your hand."

"No, you didn't," Andrea said, laughing. "Miranda Priestly never shakes hands. You never touch Miranda Priestly," she recited.

"Was I that bad?" Miranda asked.

"No, no. That's not it. I'm just a touchy-feely person," she said. "You know, lots of hugs with friends and family, always have my hands on them somehow. I guess it just makes me feel more connected." Miranda smiled as she picked up her plate and fork.

"Miranda," Andrea asked, "Why didn't you like people to touch you? Were Caroline & Cassidy the only ones who could hug you?"

"I don't know, I think it was more complicated. I let you touch me now," she said.

"Yeah, you do," Andrea said, smiling. They ate in silence, Miranda's mind drifting to her daughters.

"Do you think I made the right decision?" she asked, pushing her plate away.

"About what?"

"The girls. Sending them to live with James and Tess."

"I think you would not have been able to rest if they were here."

"What do you mean?" Miranda asked.

"You've said before that you wanted things to be 'normal' for them, and well, it would have been hard on you to do that."

Miranda thought about how right Andrea was. She would have forced herself to be near them, not hiding in her bedroom, and there were so many days when she couldn't imagine having to get out of bed for any reason other than to use the bathroom. "You're right," she said, finally.

"Do you think they will come home soon?"

Miranda leaned back into the couch, taking a deep breath. She missed her girls, very much, but she was torn, because she wanted to continue to spend time alone with Andrea. Realizing how crazy that sounded, she said, "As soon as I get through the next week, I'll call them."

"Oh, wow, that's soon," Andrea said, suddenly realizing how difficult it would be to explain why she was sleeping in the same bed as their mother. "But, I'm sure they will be thrilled to see you."

Miranda nodded, not sure of what else to say.

"Have you thought about when you'll go back to work?" Andrea asked.

"No," Miranda said. "Well, yes. I've thought about it, and it will still be some time. I don't know what the Herceptin will do. Laura told me that they typically do infusions every four weeks, but Dr Weber is doing every two with me because of the type of cancer. She said that Herceptin can damage my heart, and they will closely monitor everything, especially after the first few infusions."

"Oh, I didn't realize that," Andrea said, lying. She had done her research, too. She knew all the possible side effects, but was hoping that for once, Miranda would be positive in thinking of the future.

"Yes, well, it's too early to plan anything like going back to work," Miranda said, knowing that somewhere deep inside, she was afraid of going back to Runway, afraid that this had softened her too much, that she wouldn't be the same, couldn't manage the workload, couldn't take over after Nigel had been doing so wonderfully in her absence. She was even worried that she literally wouldn't be able to see things as well. After chemo, her eyesight had significantly deteriorated, but she tried to hide it from Andrea, unwilling to show another sign of weakness. She simply stopped wearing her contacts and chose glasses.

"No need to decide anything just yet," Andrea reassured. She could tell by Miranda's glazed-over expression that her thoughts had drifted. "It's been a long day, I think I'm going to go lie down," she said, standing to gather their plates and glasses from dinner.

"Yes. It has," Miranda said, "I think I'll join… If that's okay with you?"

Andrea poked her head around the corner from the kitchen, "Of course, I'd prefer it actually."

Miranda smiled and climbed the stairs to her room. While they were out this afternoon, Cara had come and changed the sheets, dusted, vacuumed, and cleaned the bathroom. She slowly unbuttoned her blouse and removed her belt. Her pants slipped to the floor, not even needing to be unzipped. She took her blouse off, leaving both on the floor next to her bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she slowly pulled her trouser socks off and removed her diamond earrings, her platinum watch, and her ruby ring, setting them on the nightstand on a small felted tray for such purpose. Sighing, she stood and walked over to the bathroom, wrapping her soft grey robe around her body before she sat at her vanity to remove her makeup.

Strange, how comfortable she was, removing her clothes in her bedroom with the door open. The possibility that someone might intrude had previously kept her in the habit of locking her bedroom door, even if she were alone. But with Andrea, it felt different. Miranda dropped the round cotton pads into the wastebasket, standing and examining herself in the mirror. No hair, no eyebrows; wrinkled, pale grey, dry complexion. Letting go of her robe, her full body came into view. Skeletal, bony; her breasts out of proportion with her too-thin frame; scars littered her chest, bruises and dry skin along her legs.

"Hey," Andrea said, stepping into the bedroom. "I brought some hot tea—you know you need to keep drinking."

Miranda quickly cinched her robe shut at the sound of the young woman's voice, jarring her from her thoughts. "Th—thank you. I think I'm going to take a bath," she said, reaching out and taking the mug from Andrea.

Andrea nodded. "Do you mind if I take a twenty-minute nap?" she asked. The expression on her face melted Miranda's heart. Her hand reached up and cupped the young woman's cheek.

"Of course, darling. Sleep as long as you need, I'll be fine. And thank you for the tea, this raspberry white oolong is my favorite, I think."

Andrea smiled and stepped away, climbing onto the bed and sinking into the pillow.

"Will it bother you if I play some music?" she called from the bathroom, standing in front of the small stereo with speakers built-in around the tub and shower.

"Nope," Andrea said. Soon, a quiet melody floated out of the bathroom, and Andrea was lulled to sleep by Tchaikovsky.

Miranda pushed the bathroom door closed, hesitating, leaving it cracked open. Sauntering towards the tub, she sat on the marble ledge and turned on the water. Steam billowed throughout the room as the large, oversized tub filled with water. Miranda arranged a towel over the ledge where she would rest her head, then turned the water off. Reaching into the small drawers adjacent to the tub, she opened a jar and took a scoopful of lavender bath salts. To them, she added a few drops of rosewood, vetivert, and clary sage essential oils before swirling the mixture in the hot water. Setting the glass scoop on a small towel inside the drawer, she closed it and stood.

Her robe fell to the floor as she stepped into her hot, relaxing bath. She took a few deep breaths, inhaling the luxurious aroma as she felt her skin begin to tingle. She closed her eyes and continued breathing…in through her nose…out through her mouth.

The calming effect of essential oils pleasantly surprised Miranda, helping her to clear her mind and focus on one thing alone: love. She couldn't remember when she and Andrea had first started saying "I love you," to each other, but she knew that whatever she meant by it then was not what she means when she says it now. It felt natural to say she loved Andrea. She had always cared about the young woman and felt a certain sense of protectiveness and gratitude towards her, not unlike how she felt towards her own daughters, or someone like her aunt. But that familial love wasn't exactly what she felt towards Andrea; Andrea was far from being a daughter to her. So, she thought, what was different about her? The phrase 'platonic love' came to mind, but while others often referred to any sort of chaste, non-sexual love in that way, Miranda always remembered the true meaning, from Plato's Symposium. Platonic love was indeed, love without sexual intimacy, but it was more about loving another person because of their intelligence and virtue, and both of you loving something greater than yourselves: beauty. Platonic love, in Miranda's mind, was always a smart love, though not as concerned with supporting the other or making them happy. That was also not how she would categorize her love for Andrea.

Today, she felt more passion towards the young woman than she had felt in the past decade. Her skin was on fire; a shiver ran through her inside. With each breath this afternoon, she wanted to devour Andrea, all of her. In short: she wanted sexual intimacy with her young assistant, and she felt Andrea wanted it, too. But, how did she get to that place, she wondered. Andrea was kind, caring, and supportive. She was efficient and resourceful, determined to keep Miranda's best interests in mind at all times. Tears began to form in her eyes as she slowly remembered how Andrea had been at her side through it all—holding her hand, scheduling doctors, refusing to leave, holding her while she cried. Could it be that the only reason she was attached to Andrea was because there was no one else around? No one to talk to, let alone hold her while she cried or empty her drains after surgery. She was paying this woman to take care of her, and now, now she loved her. It felt so right, so natural to be in Andrea's arms.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but her bathwater was growing cool. Draining about half of the water out, she turned the hot faucet on and added some mild bubble bath as she refilled the tub. She wasn't ready to get out—she was too relaxed at the moment. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back and rested against the curvature of the tub.

"Miranda?" Andrea called, gently knocking on the bathroom door. "Is everything going okay?"

"Wh—yes, it's fine," she said, "did you need me?"

"No, it's just been almost two hours, and I, uh just wanted to check."

"Oh," she said. "Time must have slipped away. You can open the door," she added.

Andrea pushed the door open and a smile crossed her face. Miranda was up to her neck in bubbles, looking utterly relaxed. "Well, you look quite content," she said, taking a few steps closer to the bathtub.

"It's incredibly relaxing," she hummed. "Andrea?" she asked, sitting up slightly and looking at the young woman, "Would you—I mean—you can join me if you'd like." Immediately after saying it, she regretted her words. Andrea pushed her away downstairs, and she still hadn't figured out why. "It's just a bath," Miranda added, trying to make the offer less suggestive. "It will help you sleep tonight," she said.

"You're okay with that?" Andrea asked, her voice choking on her words.

"Sure," Miranda said, moving forward and hugging her knees, turning to face the wall, directing the young woman to sit behind her. A minute later, she felt Andrea step into the tub, her long legs stretching out along Miranda's sides. Andrea laid a washcloth across her chest since all the bubbles were up front near Miranda, and gently coaxed the other woman to lean back with a slight nudge on her shoulder.

"Is this comfortable for you?" she asked Miranda.

"Yes, much more so than the porcelain tub," she said. As she laid against Andrea's chest, she was again overwhelmed by the need to have the young woman's hands on her. She reached up and took Andrea's hands from the ledge of the tub, guiding them to rest across her stomach, her own hands on top.

Miranda's thoughts drift to the young woman behind her and how she has been affected by the pas six months. She couldn't imagine how she would feel if she had to watch someone go through diagnosis, surgery, and chemo every single day, twenty-four hours a day. One thing is certain, she would need time to decompress, but as far as she knows, Andrea really hasn't had that time.

"Andrea," Miranda said after several minutes of silence. "Are you okay?"

"Of course, why?" she responded.

"Well, just all this…we never really talk about you," Miranda said quietly, her hand brushing the back of Andrea's.

"I'm fine."

"I don't think so," Miranda said. "What's been going on in that head of yours?"

Andrea sighed, tightening her arms around Miranda before she answered. "I've been thinking about my sister, and how I was here for you and not for her. I resented her for being selfish, for taking my mother's attention and wearing my mom down with her constant care."

"I'm so sorry," Miranda said, genuinely empathizing with the woman. "You know, you were still a kid then."

"That doesn't excuse my actions or my attitude," she said.

"Have you spoken with her—or your mother—recently?"

"My mom's birthday was in May. We exchanged a few emails. I couldn't bring myself to tell her I was caring for you. I felt so ashamed."

"Darling, you have nothing to be ashamed about. You have been so incredible towards me—and my family—and I've said before that I don't know if I would have made it this far without you. Never be ashamed for doing what you think is right," she said.

"I suppose," Andrea said, pressing her lips to Miranda's neck in a soft kiss, sending a shiver through Miranda's body.

"I have to get out," she said with a sigh. "I know you're going to think it's because of what you just did, but it's not. I—I need to take some anti-nausea medication," she said.

Andrea watched as Miranda climbed out of the bathtub, suds clinging to her skin. She quickly toweled off and wrapped her robe around her body, stepping out to the mini-pharmacy that had become her dresser top. Andrea followed suit, stepping out and draining the tub, wrapping her body tightly in a giant towel.

TBC…

A/N: Sorry for the short update... I promise more soon. Thanks to all who've reviewed and continued to review! xx