A/N: Alright my lovelies, it's been a while but I made a promise to Iimy that I'd get it done by Christmas - this one, not the next one ;) It didn't really work out like that so here we go. We're gonna try and get this done either way.
Also, everyone needs to show some love cos in one fell swoop, managed to solve all my problems and move on from where I was a teensy bit stuck. Thank you!
For disclaimer, see Chapter 1.
-0-
The roast had been nice, as far as Andy could tell. Miranda seemed to enjoy the meal, though she passed on a good number of the carbs. Andy packaged it all up and placed it in the fridge as Miranda relaxed on the sofa. Despite the offer of peeling potatoes, Andy had insisted that Miranda relax while she cleaned up what was left of the dishes.
Mindy's presence had been requested at eight, so there was time to relax before they had to go back on the clock.
"I'm exhausted," Miranda muttered as Andy sat beside her.
"Close your eyes for a while," she suggested. "I won't tell."
Miranda snorted and took another sip of wine instead.
"Being at the top is exhausting, don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise."
"Wanna watch something?"
"Why can you no longer annunciate?"
"The fear is gone," Andy smiled as she shrugged. "Has been for a while."
"I shall have to rectify that, post-haste." Andy giggled and sipped her glass of diet coke. "How can you drink that swill?"
"Because last time I had wine with you, I got drunk. And the time before that, I got drunk. And I don't think today, considering what we still have to do, is the day for a repeat performance."
Miranda smiled and leant back on the sofa.
"Tell me something, Andréa."
"Like what?"
"Anything."
"I," Andy shrugged. "Don't know," she chuckled. "What are you interested in?"
"I feel we've had this conversation before," Miranda huffed.
"We did," Andy nodded. "But you weren't sure back then what you were interested in. Any new ideas?"
"No," Miranda huffed. "What are you interested in?"
"Me?"
"Yes," Miranda smirked.
Andy peered at Miranda, less than excited about the sudden reversal of subject.
"I," she thought about it. "I don't know. Normal things, I guess. I like running, I like climbing," she chuckled as Miranda shivered. "I'm not as creative as you. I can't draw or write fiction. Well. I'm okay at fiction, but it's not my passion. I'm not sure I have one yet," she considered it. "Has fashion always been your," she considered rhyming it. "Thing?"
"Andréa," Miranda groaned around a laugh. "Yes, mostly. When I was younger it was drawing. I wanted to be an artist. But," she sighed ruefully. "I find it difficult to capture faces as I wish to," she chuckled. "I have never been able to, so I drew clothes on faceless bodies. Then, as I honed my skills, I wanted to be a designer, until I realised that I had no patience for that. Leaving my future up to others?" She scoffed. "No. I worked hard. I learned everything I could about every aspect of design and fashion and decided that I'd much prefer to be the woman who decided what someone should design, rather than being beholden to that person."
"Of course you did," Andy nodded. "You never had aspirations to do anything else?"
"I wanted to be a doctor when I was six, I think."
"I can't imagine you at six," Andy chuckled. "I can't even imagine you as a doctor."
"I was a rather precocious child."
"Hmm, I wondered where the twins got it," Andy smirked.
"And you?" Miranda said, ignoring the playful dig.
"At six?" Andy said, trying to remember. "Um. I think I wanted to be a unicorn."
Miranda snorted and nearly tipped her wine over.
"Shit," Andy laughed. "Hang on." She rescued the glass and double-checked none had spilt on Miranda before she sat back, shoulder to shoulder, laughing quietly. "I never said I was a sensible six-year-old."
They fell quiet and Andy couldn't bring herself to break the quiet. It was peaceful in her apartment, despite living so close to the neighbours - most of which she'd never met. Miranda huffed and readjusted so she was leaning against Andy's shoulder and Andy felt her get heavier on her arm. Peering over the snow-white hair, she watched Miranda fall asleep. She set an alarm for plenty of time to be ready for Mindy's appearance and closed her eyes as well, falling asleep engulfed in everything Miranda.
-0-
The alarm made her jump and clung to whatever was clinging to her. She blinked, looking down and finding Miranda blinking slowly into wakefulness as well. She silenced the alarm and yawned, pointing her toes and hearing the resounding clunk that her ankles and knees made
"Okay?" she asked quietly.
"Yes," Miranda muttered. "I should not have slept."
"I'll make coffee."
"Tea," Miranda muttered. "Coffee will give me a headache now."
"'Kay," Andy nodded, getting up and doing just that. By the time she placed the mugs down, it was nearly time for Mindy to make an appearance. "Alright, what's the plan? Good Cop, Bad Cop? We could switch it up, you can be Good Cop this time? I've watched a lot of SVU."
"You are utterly insensible." Andy laughed at the scandalised look she received. "We will ask her what she knows and she will tell us."
"Right," Andy smirked ruefully. "That's exactly how it's going to go."
"Did you tell her to bring all the evidence?"
"Yes," Andy smiled, repeating the answer to the question Miranda had asked her four times since they left Runway. "Mindy will be the first person except you and the girls to come here," she muttered, looking around. "Huh. Maybe I should invite Nigel over."
"Why would you do that?" Miranda asked, a tight tone in her voice.
"Because someone mentioned something to him and he asked."
"He," she frowned. "Oh." There was a pause. "What did he say?"
Andy peered at her boss and couldn't quite work out why she looked so uncomfortable.
"Just that you'd said how good the view is from my apartment. He wondered why you had known. I told him we were friends."
"Oh," she sighed. "Good."
"I was thinking of inviting him over on Sunday. Seeing as the girls are away. You could come over too if you wanted?"
"I will be busy," she muttered.
Before Andy could ask what she meant, her phone announced Roy's presence outside the building and Andy and Miranda stood.
"Ready?" Andy asked.
"Yes. This is the beginning of the end, Andréa. I can feel it."
-0-
It was not the beginning of the end.
What it was, was some sort of mashed-up middle. One that Andy could only surmise had made sense to Miranda in a way that it did not make sense to her.
Mindy had been questioned in the most amazing show of interrogation technique Andy had ever seen. Having seen most of the procedural cop dramas on TV, she thought she, herself, would be pretty good at it, but once Miranda started talking, Andy realised that she knew nothing at all. She briefly wondered if it was worth her life asking Miranda if she had been through a civilian CIA program or something. She looked over at the woman and decided against it. Miranda was currently sitting in the armchair in Andy's living room stroking her glasses along her bottom lip, thinking deeply.
Truthfully, it hadn't taken much to get Mindy to start talking, but Miranda had been incredibly adept at keeping her on topic and getting her to expound on things that were necessary for their success.
It had turned out that Mindy had been working late one evening when Irv had come in, no doubt looking to cause trouble (though neither of them had mentioned that), and had struck up a conversation with the young woman toiling away after hours. Mindy had stressed how he had tried to get her to bad-mouth Miranda and when she had refrained from doing so, he had asked her if she was interested in a partnership of sorts.
She had neither agreed, nor disagreed, feeling a little uncomfortable at the way it was worded, but then, the presents had started arriving. He'd bought her diamonds, shoes, dresses and then the quiet evenings had also started. First at a hotel, then at a small apartment, he had rented for her. They discussed Mindy's future over dinner, Irv insisting he had an 'in' with the HR Department between promises of divorce from Mrs Ravitz.
Like a fool, Mindy had believed him.
After seeing the look on Miranda's face when Mindy had said that, Andy knew that promise to be a false one. Now though, she would have to wait for a full explanation. After hearing all about their torrid affair (much more than Andy needed to know) Mindy had handed over all the photographs that she had been sent, along with a good number of the presents she had received as well. In a show of contrition, before Andy offered to walk Mindy back to the car, Mindy offered her letter of resignation to Miranda. Andy watched, fascinated, as Miranda stared at the woman for a long time before speaking one final time.
"What have you learned in all of this?"
"Um,"
"It is not a trick question," Miranda said quietly, in that terrifying voice she often used during run-throughs. "What have you learned?"
"I," she hesitated. "Have learned to have more respect for myself."
"Keep that," Miranda nodded to the resignation letter. "But if you put another foot wrong, you will not need it ever again, do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Miranda."
Miranda had waved her hand, like a queen of old, and Andy had walked the poor contrite woman down to where Roy was waiting for her.
"Goodnight, Andy. Thank you."
"You're welcome. Take care," she said, nodding to Roy.
She watched them turn the corner at the end of the street before going back upstairs to where Miranda was still contemplating whatever it was she was contemplating.
Deciding to make herself useful, Andy made another cup of tea for them both and left it beside Miranda without expecting, or receiving, an acknowledgement that it was there. She sat, sipping her tea quietly while she waited.
"Laura has the money, not Irving," Miranda said finally. "He would not have divorced her come hell or high water."
"Ah," Andy nodded. "That makes sense. Why would he chance losing that?"
"Because, Andréa," she said haughtily, blinking as she found the cup of tea. "Men are idiots."
Andy snorted into her mug but didn't comment.
"This is not enough to topple him, but it is enough to start looking closer. I am going to hire a private investigator to follow him and I want to catalogue all the evidence we have. And I want you to find out who it is in Security that is under his thumb."
"I can do that," Andy nodded.
"Good," Miranda sighed. "Not the smoking gun I hoped. More the smoking bullets."
"We'll get him," Andy said gently.
Miranda didn't reply.
-0-
When Andy woke up on Saturday, she remembered suddenly that she said invited Miranda to brunch. Groaning after the week they'd had, she rolled out of bed and checked her phone.
I cannot join you this morning.
Andy frowned and checked her emails for any new appointments. She found nothing and after a few moments of chewing her lip, she pulled on her yoga pants and a jumper and locked the door behind her. She rolled her neck as she jogged down the stairs and out of the door. She dashed across the road and knocked on the door.
Andy knocked and waited, stepping back off the step for a long while before she decided that something was really wrong.
She tried the door and found it open, poking her head around the jamb.
"Miranda?"
There was no answer and despite all they shared, Andy was more than a little uncomfortable about just wandering into her home when she wasn't expected. Despite that, something was wrong.
"MIRANDA?"
"What on -" Miranda came around the corner, her hand going to her chest when she saw Andy standing in her hallway. "I," she frowned. "Andréa?"
"Um, did I -" Andy cleared her throat. "I got your message."
"And that implied what?" Miranda asked, incredulously. "That I wanted to see you?"
"Okay, that was rude," Andy scoffed. "What the hell happened?"
"What do you mean, what happened? Nothing. I cannot make brunch."
"Why?"
"I am not beholden to you, Andréa."
"You aren't what?" Andy stared at her. "We were just at work. I went to bed, thinking you'd be meeting me for brunch and I get here this morning and we've gone back to Miranda, circa Paris 2006."
Miranda stared at her and sighed.
"I -"
"What?" Andy whispered, stepping forward. "What's wrong?"
"My," Miranda turned a rather pink colour and turned away, wrapping her arms around her middle. "I -"
"Wait," Andy frowned. "I -" She looked carefully at Miranda, taking care to note the way she was bent slightly over her arm and wearing clothes that she'd never have seen before and Andy realised. "Oh, you," Andy bit her lip. "No problem," she smiled. "It happens to the best of us, you know."
"It is not usually so," Miranda swallowed. "Uncomfortable."
"Come on," Andy said gently. "I'll make you some coffee and order us some waffles."
Miranda made a noise that made Andy smirk as she offered Miranda her arm.
"Don't tease me," she whispered. "I'm not emotionally capable of coping with that."
"I'm not," Andy whispered, her hand rubbing Minrada's forearm. "Just glad to see you have feet of clay."
"Give me strength," Miranda groaned.
Andy deposited the enigmatic woman on her sofa and left the room to get all the things she needed. From her time with the family that there was a wheat pillow in the bathroom on the third floor and she detoured there before going back down to the kitchen. She rang for waffles, making sure the employee knew whose food it was. The promise of Belgian waffles for breakfast made her smile and she got to work making a cup of tea and a cup of coffee. She didn't care which one Miranda chose, she'd have the other. She found a serving tray, warmed the pillow and took the lot up to the second floor where Miranda had curled up at one end of the sofa with a cushion.
"Here," she said gently. "Put this where you need it."
Miranda did so, groaning at the relief it provided.
"Thank you," she whispered. She took the mug of coffee from Andy's hands and touched her hand. "Really."
"Don't worry about it."
Miranda nodded and sipped her coffee, sighing tiredly as she sat back. The silence, as usual, was gentle and comfortable and Andy enjoyed the tea as they waited for the food.
"What did you order?" Miranda asked.
"Belgian waffles," Andy grinned. "You'll thank me once you've eaten them."
Miranda's eyebrow went up in challenge, but Andy just smirked.
"I take it you don't often get inconvenienced by all this?" she asked, one part interested in the answer.
"Not particularly," Miranda shrugged. "I recognise the good luck involved."
"I'll say," she laughed. "I'm glad though, for your sake."
Miranda toasted her with her coffee as the doorbell sounded.
Andy paid for the waffles herself and sorted out some plates and cutlery. She carried them up and smiled at the little table Miranda had set up for them.
"I told you we were having brunch together," Andy grinned as she put the plates down.
"You are cheeky for someone who trespassed in my house to make me eat carbs."
"You bring out the best in me," Andy grinned.
Miranda hummed but did not stand on ceremony and dug into her waffles.
"Oh," she groaned. "How did you know?"
"I was going to take you there anyway," Andy chuckled. "I found them the other day. Thought we'd give it a try."
"All manner of culinary experiences you are exposing me to."
Andy grinned around her fork and they ate they waffles until both plates were wiped clean.
"Andréa?" Miranda said as she piled them up on the corner. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Andy grinned. "Can I stay or should I -"
"Stay," Miranda nodded. "I'd like that."
"Do you want to talk about work? Or are we leaving that to Monday?"
"I don't want to talk about anything."
"Then I'll sit here and read while you nap, or whatever. And I'll see you when you wake."
"Acceptable," Miranda whispered, snuggling under the throw from the back of the sofa and settling down.
Andy picked one of the books and settled into a chair, watching the woman on the sofa, rather than the book for a long while. When she had first stared at Runway, she had not understood the woman at all. Now though? Now Miranda was arguably the best friend she'd ever had. And it meant the world to her that she could say that.
