TDWP: The Devil's Mistress Ch. 9

Sleep was easier than Emily expected. The bed was very comfortable, the pillows more so. But the sleep was actually more a result of long, long worrisome days, which had been very strangely alleviated and aggravated at the same time in the space of a few short, amazing hours. She slept dreamlessly, clutching one pillow to her body. Andrea had promised to wake her and Emily trusted that promise.

She woke to a gentle shake and a soft, "It's time. Do you still want to get up?"

Emily rolled over, sleepiness still pressing on her. "Yes. Of course. I've had less sleep for fashion weeks."

"Ahh, but this is not fashion week, and Miranda will most likely still be asleep anyway." Andrea said. "You can rest a little more if you wish."

"No." Emily was adamant. She threw off her covers and swung her legs off the bed. "I want to see her now."

She could practically feel Andrea's smile, though she could not see it. "I'll wait for you then."

They entered the comfortable recovery room, leaving their guard at the doorway. Despite the safety of the compound, Andrea was unwilling to chance the girls anywhere without escort, even home, until everything was resolved. The room was semi-dark, with a few soft lights strategically placed to provide illumination for the caretaker and any guests. It could be brighter, but Miranda was still in a medical doze and the center's philosophy included a form of coziness for their guests, including and most importantly, the patients. The Mistress heartily agreed with Dr. Montgomery on that particular topic.

Andrea pushed two small redheads forward. She said, quietly, "Go on. Addison says she'll be awake soon and I think she'd be thrilled to see you first." Carolyn grabbed Cassidy's hand then and the two girls moved further into the room. They were soon by the bed, one to each side, where they anxiously peered at their mother. Both girls waited, hands clutching the bed covers, by, but not on, their mother's hands.

To Andrea's relief, Miranda was only minimally attached to monitoring devices, which meant no unnecessary scary images for the girls. Or for that matter, herself. She and her Brit companion stepped further into the room, and also took up positions near the bed. Andrea considered kissing Miranda, to see if that would wake her. It amused her to think it, but Addison had been very specific about the time that older woman would awaken. It would have nothing to do with anything she had done and Andrea had given up many of the more pleasant illusions of life in favor of what was real or true. She still stopped at fresh bloomed roses though, so not all that was mystic was lost, merely resettled within.

She placed a hand on Cassidy's shoulder and the young girl leaned back a little, as if drawing strength. Emily, observant as she always was, mirrored the effort and was rewarded with a similar trust.

They waited then, a few more moments, in quiet companionship and support. Then, as if morning had arrived, though it was actually evening, Miranda inhaled and stretched. Her hands flexed, so fingertips touched.

She didn't even have to open her eyes. The smile said it all. "Bobsies."

It would have been like trying to hold back tsunami. The girls clambered up on the bed, unbidden, but not unwelcome. Blue eyes opened, and brightened, even as her arms were pulling in the girls for a fuller embrace and mom to daughter kisses. That completed, the fashion maven said, with delicate warmth, "Hello, Andrea. Emily."

The sound of Miranda's voice slid over her spine, and Andrea couldn't resist then. She had forgotten how much she missed that sultry, wonderful, sound. It was too much. She could not crawl up with them, but she did move forward. She grasped Miranda's face in her hands and kissed her, once and deeply. She shivered with relief. "Welcome back."

Miranda smiled to Andrea, who returned it in full. Then the older woman turned her attention to Emily, who was hanging back. Miranda's expression turned just the shyest edge of stern and her eyebrow cocked. "Well?"

Emily gasped, then moved forward with alacrity. She slowed only to check once, just once, before also grasping Miranda's face and kissing her, like she meant it. She pulled back, a little shocked at herself, but the older woman snagged her hand and kept her close.

Miranda leaned back on the pillows, like a queen at rest. "Much better."

From Miranda's perspective, the prohibition against heavy lifting did not include accessing the network and pursuing some lines of inquiry, once she was home. Andrea's foresight had provided a studio space that worked as a post operation refuge. She wasn't ready to go back to sleep yet, though had promised to go to bed at a reasonable hour. The twins had already been tucked into bed for the night and were asleep, reassured that their Mother would be home when they awakened.

Emily, though still fatigued, chose to stay in the studio to assist, in whatever way Miranda might need. At the moment she puttered, trying to find her mental place in the scheme of things. She arranged various objects on the desk while she watched with grim amazement as the wall monitors flipped through media, web and otherwise, in quick succession as Miranda information gathered. There was no remote control. The editor's expression was intense and focused. Occasionally, she would move a hand and information would change, but that was the only obvious physical interaction between herself and the networked content.

Emily worked quietly, setting things in order. Once she had things set the way she thought Miranda might need them, she gathered up the files that Andrea's Lisle had thoughtfully provided and prepared to read.

One file was labeled Irv. The other was labeled Jacqueline.

When the Brit read those labels, she had to deliberately turn away from where Miranda might observe her reactions; most of which involved a cascade of enraged shaking. She managed to hold the files close, to keep them from rattling in her grasp and then, when she felt more in control, began to flip through them and read some of the content. Clipped to the folder were small data units, which she knew would have even more damning evidence. She committed to going through those files too.

She wished Andrea was there to talk to at that moment, or that she felt more comfortable approaching Miranda on the topic. But she still felt less of an equal, so much as a … she didn't know what. Guest wasn't exactly correct, as she suspected that her ex-coworker would not permit her to just leave. But neither was prisoner.

It seemed that it was either friend or Mistress. Either might apply, depending.

Whatever the case, Andrea had duties and so the Mistress was off for a moment, seeing to a matter involving her domain. She promised to return quickly as they all knew there were things that needed to be discussed. They had yet to really sit down and talk about "the list," or the other aspects of Miranda's transformation and the implications. Emily expected that they would eventually have the conversation. It was a case, she thought, of first things first and also distraction.

And Miranda...

She was still herself, but there was an unexpected softness that Emily was not entirely sure how to address. Nor did she know if it were something especially directed at herself or an effect of all the changes. Not that she did not appreciate the gentler side. Emily simply wasn't used to it and found it distracting. She did not know the rules of approach.

"Have you learned anything interesting?" Miranda inquired, without looking away from the monitors. She was leaning on the outside edge of the desk, arms folded across her chest. She was dressed in pajamas, top and bottom. The accompanying robe was on one of the other seats, currently unneeded. Her feet were bare, slippers unnecessary because of the carpet.

"Only that Irv is exactly as bad as I thought, but Jacqueline..." Emily, who was dressed in a dark skirt and light blouse, but in her stockings, (heels had been left at the door), slapped the folders back onto the desk in fury, "... is an unexpected evil. I had no idea, Miranda. I would never have let her near you, at any time, if I had known."

Miranda's attention turned from the research to the ex-assistant, ex-art editor, and utterly loyal Emily. "Hence, unexpected. Not that you could prevent it. At a party we must all take our chances."

"Droll." Emily acknowledged, daring. "You'll probably want to look at the data Andrea's assistant has gathered. The money trail alone is fascinating and terrifying."

Miranda leaned over, and brushed her fingers over the manila files. And she sighed, with a slight relief. "At least it was not Stephen."

"He might be a lawyer, but he, apparently has a soul."

"Yes. Well. Our marriage started well enough, but expectations of change caused conflict. If I had not let it get so far, it's possible the divorce would have been more amicable, but I clung to the hopeless idea that I could make it work." Miranda's lips curved in self-depreciation. "Now I am changed. I wonder if he'd find it any more acceptable. He might like the new me. Or be terrified."

"Miranda."

"Still many things to be discovered, Emily." The older woman's gaze warmed. "I am glad you are here, even if it is inconvenient for you."

"Death would be inconvenient for me," the redhead replied. "Or whoring out, which is the direction that things were heading in. HR has been utterly useless and cowardly since the conservatives did away with the keep-your-hands-off-my-ass laws." Emily huffed. "All in the guise of equality. Hah. What are your plans?"

"Recovery, discovery, and destruction of my enemies." Miranda's grin was a delightful mask of malice and drew a real smile from Emily in silent reply. The diva pointed at the monitor. "I think things have already been set in motion. Andrea is moving behind the scenes, if the stock portfolios are any evidence. It's like watching a megalithic shark circle a helpless diver. I am quite awestruck, actually."

"Beg pardon."

Miranda smirked a little. "Lisle was kind enough to tune me in to some information. Our Andrea is not penniless, Emily. Far, far from it. "

"I was beginning to gather."

"We should be grateful she uses her power for... mostly good. Tell me," Miranda slid until she was sitting on the desk, and she folded one leg primly over the other. She placed her hands on her knees. "What do you think of Runway, right now?"

Emily would rather do almost anything than have that conversation, but it was Miranda asking and her expression... was … surprisingly open.

"I miss the old one."

Miranda nodded. "I'm not sure we could get it back." She glanced back at the screens. "I'm not sure we should even try to rescue it at this point. On the other hand. It is Runway and I do love it. But, it needs... a serious blooding I think, for the purposes of recreation. Perhaps Jacqueline will be good for us after all. Temporarily. But I just... can't leave Irv where he can molest the models. They have jobs to do and he drives down the worth of the product with his sliminess."

"I can't disagree about Irv." Emily said carefully, then decided to step into the tiger's teeth. They were so pretty after all. "I'm not sure I agree about Jacqueline. If only because I hate her so very much and the thought of her touching anything that is yours..."

Miranda chuckled and it sounded cold and dire and black. "She intended to touch me. Oh, my but did she intend to touch me. Andrea, I believe, feels very much as you do. Perhaps with more loathing attached, as she knows quite personally what was intended for me. Not to belittle your despising, but we are talking an intimate understanding."

"I...know." Emily considered whether she should say anything of her conversation with Andrea, but it was such a personal topic. Fortunately, Miranda simply took her words as intended. She continued the thought...

"Despite our desire to see Jacqueline punished, there are priorities. I am thinking of the magazine at just this moment. And, technically, my Emily, Runway does not belong to me. Not truly. It never did. But..." She waved gently at the numbers that were rapidly changing in one corner of one of the screens. "I do wonder what the future holds."

"Do you plan on having Nigel shoot you the Book? Just for curiosity's sake?"

Miranda outright grinned, then shook her head. "No. I don't think Andrea would permit that, just yet. She would count it as work and I suspect she's had me on the equivalent of vacation for the last... few days. Despite everything."

Emily's jaw dropped, then she shook her head. So much of that she couldn't even begin to address. She chose the simplest reaction, which was also true, "Vacation?"

"Mm. Yes. She's had me walking around doing almost nothing, but I now understand there was a reason. Partly because I had to recover from what was done to me. Partly I needed extra time to think. She pointed out to me that, once certain parameters were reset, I would find my thought process clearing and becoming quite speedy, and my ability to access that time would be enhanced. I think she was also aware that by necessity, my attitude towards some of my past activities might have changed."

"And?"

"I do have some new priorities and it has become clear to me that I must not waste time in failing to pursue that which interests me." Miranda waved her hand at the monitors, "Aside from ruining Irv and Jacqueline." The silver-haired woman leaned closer to the red-head. "Among them is you."

Now Emily blinked. "Uhm."

"Would it help if I pointed out, again, that you do not work for me, and have no requirement to stay with me?"

Emily went still. "Are you going to send me away."

"Only if you want to go."

"No."

"Good. Andrea mentioned that you might have heard some very interesting information about me."

"She did?"

"Mm. You heard of the list?"

Emily's expression darkened. "Yes. Among other things. We were supposed to talk about it more..."

"Did Andrea mention that I made a specific request?"

"We never had a chance to really discuss much, after. Dr. Montgomery insisted we rest."

Amusement glazed Miranda's expression. "I do like Addison. We have much in common." She then laid her palm over Emily's "I requested one other person be added to the list. One specific person."

"Oh?"

"You."

"OH!"

Miranda settled back in one of the more comfortable chairs and gazed at Emily, who was saying "I just have difficulty believing..." The redhead, also sitting, but not in the way of Miranda's view, waved her hand vaguely. "... all of this."

"It is a bit much to take in," the older woman replied and then sipped from her mug. "But I have a number and so do my children and Andrea purchased us." She exhaled and set the mug down, "Fortunately for all of us. There is no point in going into denial about it and difficulty is not the same as disbelief. If it makes you feel any better, I think you've been given much less time to adapt to the idea than I was."

"She assumed you would be okay if I saw your medical records."

"You are still one of my emergency contacts, Emily. It was a logical conclusion. Plus," Miranda's brow arched, "I gave her permission. We both thought it might make things... clearer, for you. You were always someone who appreciated the tangible. It is a trait that contributes to what makes you an excellent art editor."

Another woman would have basked in the praise. Emily was still stewing. "Why are you being so..."

"We are at home Emily. You are, if you desire to be so, a part of my … chosen... family. I am still choosing my partners, just so you are aware. Andrea was quite blunt about the necessity and I believe her. Now. But I have never been...one to randomly pick people. I make quick choices. It is not the same."

"I know that. But I am not sure how I feel about... Are you so sure that you want me then? We have never discussed it. Never dated. And you may be assuming something from some action I have taken, but..."

Miranda considered, then said, "I have a secret weapon. Still, here is the test. If I asked you to come to bed with me tonight, what would you say?"

"Can't. Dr. Addison said." Emily sat back now, tucking her legs under herself, suddenly more comfortable.

Miranda smirked, and let her amusement show. "She did not say anything about me watching you while you sleep. Or holding you in my arms. Or...you must begin to think in broader terms, Emily."

"You don't know if I am the type to share."

"When I told you what our Andrea was accomplishing, you did not blink, nor pause at the use of the word "our". Your eyes dilate when you think of her. And when you think of me. If I mentioned that I looked forward to seeing you both tangled up in one another..."

Emily flushed, exhaled.

"You would share. With the right persons." Miranda handed the words to Emily as fact, without one smirk. "I don't expect you to sleep with everyone on my list, regardless. It's my list, for my wants and, more importantly, my specific needs. Andrea, I am sure, has quite a list of her own. It is a drawback of what we have been forced to become. You'll have to construct your own. Or not. I certainly am not going to demand or beg or force you, my dear."

"I did not think that..."

Miranda raised her hand. "I only offer the opportunity. But, know this, right now. It's a lifetime commitment. No divorce, not even symbolic. I'm quite done with those. And even then, even if all you chose, was to be my friend, I would find infinite value in it."

"Friend."

"It's not like I have that many, Emily."

"I, well... Nigel."

"Care to try to count more?" Miranda lifted her mug again. "Then again, I'd never sleep with Nigel."

"He's a man. But you wouldn't have a problem with that."

"I have always enjoyed the fact that humanity is made up of many genders. One can not work in our industry without at least a basic appreciation. And now that I find I..." Miranda's jaw clenched. She shook her head and then shifted the topic a little less sideways, "Whatever my preferences or orientation or whatever people call it these days, I never tried to define it for myself. It never seemed necessary. However, Nigel is unequivocally gay. And not flexible around that issue. It would offend his sensibilities and wound him if I tried."

Emily did not quite gawk, but her picture of things, her idea of her world was rapidly changing.

"Wait a minute. You'd make that choice for him. But what about ..."

"One must make the distinction between the personal and business. I've made similar choices about you." Miranda sipped, watching Emily carefully. Then she said, keeping her tone most carefully even, "Would you prefer that I woo you, Emily? I suppose my directness could be seen as off-putting. I am not used to doing the pursuing, and I know you enjoyed your outings with Serena, but thought you would prefer clarity from me."

"I would. I mean, I do. It's..." Emily looked out the doorway and then back at Miranda, "... steadying. Honestly, a date can happen at any time, and I am... I have … It is more than admiration, Miranda, that has kept me close."

"You didn't take the position at Vogue."

"You knew about that."

"There is... was... very little in my domain that I was unaware of. For instance, I recall when Serena made her first appearance, you were quite snippy with her. Almost as much as Andrea." Emily's eyes widened. "It was fascinating to watch you fight your attraction for the 'fat girl.'"

"I was not alone in that fight."

"No. You weren't. But we are not speaking of me."

Quiet descended then as they both spent time considering the things that had been said or left unsaid. A few minutes passed, then Miranda said, "You should go get some rest. And so, technically, should I. It seems Andrea will be occupied a little longer. Lisle just sent me an alert. I'll close things down here. Come kiss me good night, if you want. Then that's all."

Emily stared at Miranda for a few seconds, and before any caustic remarks could make their way and spoil the pleasanter aspects of their conversation, she finally stood. Then she walked over to Miranda, took the cup from her hands and set it down, and grasped the woman's face between her hands.

She gazed down at Miranda for several seconds and the older woman allowed the search. Then she tugged on Emily's shirt. The younger woman's head dipped and their lips pressed together. The kiss warmed, but before it could gain true speed, Emily drew back. She looked as if she were tempted to say something, but apparently changed her mind.

Then, trusting Miranda, she left.

Time had wound full circle and this time, as Emily lay in the bed, one pillow curled under her arm and clutched to her chest and the other pillow snug against her cheek, she found sleep more elusive. She dozed, but the deeper aspect that brought with it dreams and inner quiet, seemed to hover just on the edge of waiting. It was as if there were some piece she was trying to fit together, but her mind was too busy to see it.

She let herself use the restfulness, thinking and contemplating about what she knew and did not yet know, about the circumstances that had brought her here. Despite Andrea's kind thoughts, and Emily did know they were kind, she did not expect Serena to change her mind. The Brit had come to a hard won peace regarding the blonde's decision and beliefs about herself and she had wondered, after all, if perhaps the greater mistake had been that they had both worked at Runway with its tremendous demands. Though, they both thrived and it would have killed them to give it up.

Emily shifted, fluffing the pillows into something more comfortable and deliberately tried to calm her mind, reminding herself that was all past and the topic... was now. Miranda in the now. Incredible Miranda who... in that brilliant way of hers, had cut through what normally would have been months of back and forthing, with precise and simple offers.

Not demands.

Which made the whole thing much different and much more dangerous.

Emily, whose heart was still bruised, could truly find the greater wound, here. Regardless of which choice she made. Though, like any good bet, one portion promised greater value in return.

She deliberately evened out her breathing, tried to think nothing thoughts.

Then, in the distance, she heard the muffled noise of heels on the floor. She recognized the tempo, counted the paces. She had never told anyone, but her ability to hear and distinguish between clackers had always been a secret weapon. It was how she always knew when Miranda was arriving or departing. Then, exhaling, she thought, "Andrea," and a mental picture formed and drew her finally into restful sleep.