prompt: andy hasn't talked to miranda in years and one of the girls begs her to come help their mom.

A/N: sorry i went in a bit of a dark direction with this. trigger warning for cancer. (no major character death)


"Just a minute!" Andrea shouted, spitting out her toothpaste and rinsing her mouth before running to the door. "Okay, coming, coming!" she called, running up to the door. She opened the door, thinking it was one of her neighbors, and gasped by way of greeting.

"Hi Andy," the visitor said. "You probably don't remember me, but—"

"M-miranda," she stammered. "I mean, um, Ca—"

"Cassi, err, Cassidy," she said. "Do you have a minute?" she asked, stepping inside the doorway.

Andrea couldn't help but think how like her mother she was—in looks and action. "Of course, make yourself comfortable," she said, shutting the door behind her. "Can I get you a glass of water or something?"

"No, thank you," she said, perching on the barstool. "I can't stay. I, uh—will you sit with me?" she said, taking Andrea's hand and leading her to the couch.

"H-how is your mother?" Andrea asked. "Sorry, this is just a bit surreal."

"I get it. Um, that's why I'm here, actually. She is, um—the cancer, it spread," Cassi said, wiping the tear from her eye. "Mom's been such a fighter. You heard about the ovarian cancer, right?"

Andrea nodded. "I thought she was in remission?"

"Well, from that, yeah, but she had her annual scan the other day and," she sniffled. "It's in her brain."

Andrea felt like the air had been sucked out of her lungs. She hugged the young woman, because she didn't know what else to do. "Oh, honey, I am so sorry," she finally said before pulling away.

"Will you come back with me to see her?"

Andrea's eyes widened. "I-I don't think she'd really want to see me. You and your sister should be there for her," she urged.

Cassi shook her head. "She doesn't want us there—she doesn't want us to see her like this. Andy, I feel terrible. She must have been in pain for so long and not said anything. She must have known she was dying, but put off seeing the doctor until after the wedding—my wedding, last month."

"Cassi, how bad is it?"

The young woman closed her eyes and swallowed. "She won't tell me. The doctor said there isn't much they can do at this point."

"What? What about chemo, or radiation or something?" Andrea asked.

Cassi shook her head. "They all have a slim chance of success, and will make Mom extremely weak. She wants to enjoy what little time she has left," she said. "That's why I came here—to see if you will come see her."

"Oh god, I haven't emailed her in months. We haven't seen each other since last Christmas." she said.

"Andy," Cassi said, grabbing the woman's hands and holding them still. "Mom loves you. I think she's always loved you, but just didn't quite know how to deal with that because you're a girl and all. She's too traditional," she said rolling her eyes. "But please, if you ever loved her—and I think you did—she needs you now."

Andrea nodded, wiping the tears off her cheeks. "Yes, I'll come," she said. "Give me five minutes," she said, getting up and heading down the hall to grab a few things.

She returned, and Cassidy was standing by the door. "Okay," she said. Without another word, she followed the young woman out the door and down to the waiting car.

They rode quietly to the townhouse. It had been sixteen years since Andrea stepped foot inside, but somehow she knew it would feel the same. Cassidy walked up the stairs and opened the door, and led Andrea upstairs without a word.

Cassi gently cracked open the door to Miranda's bedroom, gesturing to the nurse to come out into the hallway.

"I just administered the evening Dilantin," the nurse said. "Poor thing. I think the steroids are helping the headache, but they're making her shaky and nauseated."

"I'll take it from here—any other medications before morning?" Andrea asked.

Cassidy smiled, "There's a sleeping pill on the dresser if she needs it, otherwise no," she said. "Thank you, Andy."

Andrea closed her eyes and nodded before stepping into the bedroom and closing the door.

"Mary? My water," Miranda called.

Andrea set her bag at the foot of the bed and kicked off her shoes, quickly reaching for the glass of water and holding the straw out to the woman. She was wearing a ribbed tank top and wore a silk turban on her hair. She was a sight for sore eyes, even when she looked like hell.

She took a few sips, then inhaled sharply and opened her eyes, coughing as she locked eyes with Andrea. "Andrea? What are you—I don't understand," she said.

"Hey," Andrea said, setting the glass on the nightstand and sitting on the edge of the bed, hugging the woman tightly. She pulled away and looked into the woman's eyes. "I love you—so much—and I am sorry I never said anything sooner," she said, leaning closer to press a soft kiss to the woman's lips.

Miranda's hands reached up and felt Andrea's cheeks. "You've been crying," she said. "Please, don't cry, darling. We have so much time to make up for." She pulled the woman closer and kissed her properly, on the lips, deepening the kiss until she was out of breath.

"Is it alright if I lay here with you?" Andrea asked, pointing to the other side of the mattress.

Miranda simply nodded, turning to her side so she could face the woman next to her. "We could have had such fun," she whispered.

"We still can," Andrea said, taking her hands.

Miranda shook her head. "It's too late for me. My body is—so very tired," she said.

"I know, come here," she said, pulling the woman against her chest. "Let's rest now, and we can talk more in the morning."

Miranda pressed a kiss to the Andrea's chest. "I love you, too, you know," she said before falling asleep in the woman's arms.

Some time later, Miranda woke and turned over, crawling out of bed and heading to the bathroom. Andrea followed after her, holding her hand while she coughed and heaved into the toilet.

Finally, Miranda closed the toilet lid and sat down, her hand still firmly in Andrea's. "This nausea and dry heaves—it's worse than what I had with the chemo," she said as she shook her head.

Andrea knelt next to her. "What can I do for you?"

Miranda stared at her for a few minutes, thinking about what she wanted to say. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Look after my girls and their families when I'm gone. If Cassi has a baby, or Caroline has another—" she was starting to get choked up. "Promise me that, Andrea."

"I promise, Miranda," she said, kissing the back of her hand. "I promise I will look after your girls whether they want me to or not. I could never replace you, but I will do my best to be there for them as long as I am able," she said.

"Thank you," Miranda whispered.

Andrea stood and helped Miranda up to the sink, where she rinsed her hands. Andrea handed her a hand towel, and gently traced her cheekbone with her thumb. "Miranda, you really are a beautiful woman, you know? I'm not just saying that because I'm biased. You're gorgeous."

Miranda frowned and reached up, tugging the silk turban off her head and revealing a nearly-bald scalp.

"Wh—I thought you weren't doing chemo right now," Andrea said in confusion.

"I'm not. It never grew back," she said. "Once I got the test results back from the doctor, it seemed pointless to wear the wig anymore. Unless of course, you'd rather remember me like that?"

Andrea reached up and took Miranda's head in her hands. Her lanky fingers stretched far past her hairline and she gently brushed them back and forth. "I didn't fall in love with your hair over the past sixteen years—I fell in love with you, the real you." She pulled her in close for a kiss, moving her hand to the back of the woman's head so she could deepen the kiss. She paused for a second, pulling away and pressing her forehead against the woman's. "Is this okay?"

Miranda nodded and leaned forward, capturing the younger woman's lips and deepening the kiss as her tongue explored the woman's mouth. After a while, Miranda suppressed a groan and pulled away. "I have to lie down," she said.

Andrea led her back to bed and held up the covers while she crawled in. "Can I get you anything else? Water? Medication?"

"No, I'll be okay," she said, turning onto her side and clutching a pillow as Andrea crawled into bed behind her.

"Where does it hurt?" Andrea asked, gently placing her hand on the woman's shoulder.

"My head," she said, grimacing.

Andrea curled up behind her and wrapped her arm around the woman's waist under the covers, finding her hand and linking their fingers. She pressed a kiss to her neck, just behind her ear.

Under the covers, Miranda led the younger woman's hand to an area on the left side of her abdomen and pushed gently. "Feel that? It's a tumor, the size of an orange."

"In your stomach? Does it hurt?" Andrea asked quietly.

"Usually, yes. Like a constant burning, but sometimes, like now, it's a stabbing pain. This usually only happens after I eat," she said, changing positions a little bit in an attempt to get more comfortable.

"Oh gosh, the kissing. That made it worse, didn't it? I'm so sorry," Andrea said.

"Hush, that's not—that didn't cause this. It's cancer. It's everywhere, and it's painful. And for what it's worth," she added, turning and looking up at Andrea, "I'd do that again and again, no matter the consequences."

Andrea pressed a kiss to her cheek and hugged her tightly, rubbing her abdomen in tiny circles with a feather-light touch. "Try to get some sleep," she whispered. "I'll be here when you wake up."

The next day over breakfast, Miranda set her cup of coffee down and looked at Andrea. "Maybe I should do the radiation and chemo," she said.

Andrea's eyes widened and she carefully set her coffee on the table. "What's on your mind all of a sudden?"

"You," Miranda said. "Sixty-six years on this earth and I've never truly been happy. With my girls grown and married with families of their own, it just felt like it wasn't worth fighting. But now…"

"You mean…because of me?"

Miranda nodded. "Us—that is, if you want to do this with me."

Andrea sighed. "I will be here with you, whatever you decide, but this has to be your decision, Miranda. I can't make it for you, and I won't be able to forgive myself if it doesn't go as planned."

"This is the beauty of having a terminal diagnosis—your outlook on life changes drastically. You don't think in terms of calculated risks, but rather last chances and why nots. I quite literally have nothing left to lose right now," she said.

"But you do. You are alive and alert and you can spend time with the people you love," Andrea said.

"But for how long? Every night I go to sleep, wondering if I will wake up in the morning, or if I will be able to get out of bed, if I will be able to speak or eat. There's no guarantee that today isn't my last," she said.

"Can you not talk like that?" Andrea said, standing and walking over to the window.

"I know it's hard, darling, but think about it. If you had the chance—a very slim chance, but a chance nonetheless—wouldn't you take it?"

Andrea shrugged and continued staring out the window.

"Chemo was horrible, and I can only imagine what brain surgery and radiation will do. I've heard horror stories about the burns," she said. She stood and joined Andrea at the window, wrapping her arms around her from behind and resting her head on her back between her shoulders. "You said you'll be here for me no matter what I choose—but if I choose to have the treatment, will you want me to get better?"

"What?" Andrea asked, spinning around and gripping the woman's forearms. "Of course I would want you to get better. Why would you say that?"

Miranda shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's convenient to profess your love for a septuagenarian when she's on her death bed, but you didn't actually imagine what loving me would be like if I wasn't dying."

"Okay, first, you are not seventy yet. Second, that's just not true. Miranda, I never married because I couldn't find anyone better than you. I have been imagining a life with you for at least the past decade," she said. "If you want try this, let's call your doctor and see if we can get in today. We'll look at the pros and cons, and we'll make the decision."

Miranda reached up and wiped a tear from her eye. "Okay. I do have one request—whatever we decide, I want you here." She reached over into the drawer and pulled out a spare key and placed it in Andrea's hand. "Will you move in?"

Andrea's fingers closed around the key and she nodded, kissing the woman on the cheek. "Yes, of course. Now, will you do something for me?"

Miranda nodded.

"Marry me."

Her eyes widened as she looked at the younger woman in surprise.

"Nothing fancy if you don't want it. Just the courthouse, maybe with the girls. I'll sign whatever prenup you need—I don't want your money. I just want you to be my wife," she said. She looked down and slipped the Irish claddagh ring off her finger and onto Miranda's left hand.

Miranda was too overcome with emotion to say anything, but judging by her frantic nodding and tight hug, she seemed to be in agreement. "We are really doing this, aren't we?" she asked after some time.

"Well, you haven't exactly said 'yes,' so I'm not sure…"

Miranda swatted her playfully. "Yes, darling, my love, my best friend. I accept your proposal and will marry you as soon as we are able," she said, pressing a kiss to the woman's lips.

"Good. We have a busy day, now. Let me call the doctor and make an appointment for this afternoon, and if we time it right, we can stop by the City Clerk and apply for a marriage license," Andrea said with a smile. "Why don't you relax in the recliner while I clean up and make a few calls?" she said, leading her over to the chair.

.

/