"You know, you are awfully relaxed for someone who's supposed to be kidnapped and lost."

They were enjoying the last rays of sun and sipping the "quite acceptable" red wine out of "horrid" coffee mugs (but it was either that or straight from the bottle, so Miranda finally relented). They have been sitting quietly for a while now, and Andy was surprised how tranquil she felt. Desperate to use the final moments of light, nature turned hectic around them. She was not part of this particular rush hour though, so she happily sat back and observed. The dragonflies were nervously skimming the lake surface, some unknown bird was trying to out-sing the frog cacophony, even a coyote yodeled his heart out a few minutes ago. A Disney production come to life.

Lazily, Andy considered her options. Little Mermaid, definitely. But, was it the Kiss a girl or Ursula's body talk? Now that was a question.

Eyes closed, Miranda was lounging in the deck chair, obviously enjoying the tempered warmth of late afternoon sun. The soft, dark blouse slid negligently off her shoulders, perfectly showcasing Miranda's decolletage. A hand holding a cup of wine was resting lightly on her thigh.

Andy swallowed. The idea of having a conversation with that particular body made her cheeks burn.

A witch, then. A witch and her witchery ways… Andy was almost sorry to break the silence, except there was something about this whole thing nagging at her.

"We both know that when I fell asleep in the car you could have driven to the first gas station," Andy pressed on. "You could have yelled bloody murder. Why didn't you?"

Miranda murmured, without opening her eyes, "I don't remember you being this nosy."

"Well, I am a reporter, you know."

"I wouldn't brag about it."

"Har har."

Miranda just quirked her lips. Obviously, there wouldn't be a truthful answer to her question. Andy tried to tackle the subject from a different angle. "Is anyone going to miss you?"

Miranda's eyes popped wide open. "If what? You bury a hatchet in my head and dump me in the lake?"

Andy laughed, "No, I mean, was anyone expecting you? Wherever you were going …"

Miranda's smirked, "And where exactly did you think I was going?"

"It's not something I've ever speculated about," Andy lied, testily.

"Oh, I see," Miranda gazed at her evenly. "Pray tell, what was your bet in the longest running Runway ballot: a weekend spa in virginal blood or the annual goat-slaughtering ritual?"

Andy choked on her wine, tried to deny ever imagining anything of the kind, noticed the raised eyebrow and took yet a different route, "Um, actually I meant, are Cassidy and Caroline expecting you?"

"You should've thought of that earlier, before getting us los—"

"Miranda, please."

Miranda must've read a real concern in Andy's eyes because she relented, "Cassidy and Caroline are at their grandmother's. I promised them a call Sunday evening."

Andy suspected it, of course. She doubted Miranda would be so relaxed if her daughters were involved in her weekend plans. Still, it was good to know for sure. The shroud of guilt she was sporting because she might be stopping Miranda from spending time with her kids slid down her shoulders. Of course, she didn't have a problem stopping Miranda from spending time with other people. Particularly-

Andy chewed her lip. She knew she shouldn't ask. She wouldn't. It was not her business.

"And that doctor friend of yours?" She grimaced with distaste. "Jackson, Jefferson, whateverson?"

Miranda stared. Andy blushed again. She hoped it wasn't that noticeable in the dying light.

"You know perfectly well what his name is, don't you, Andrea?"

Andy shrugged, admitting to nothing.

"Not that it is your business, but Jameson and I are not seeing each other anymore."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, "Andy said blithely.

"Of course you are."

But Miranda's tone did not sound particularly poisonous and Andy couldn't hide the smirk.

The darkness crawled upon them sneakily, unnoticed until it had already dipped into the lake, and Andy had to rummage blindly in the kitchen for matches and candles. She used the opportunity to grab some blankets as well. Miranda's tiny thankful nod warmed her as much as the blanket over her feet.

It was still early and were they in the city, they'd both probably still be working. But here, in the wild, everything was quieting down: the scuttle around them was over, birds fell silent and even the frogs seemed to turn introspective. The flickering candle light cast shadows over Miranda's face, accentuating her cheekbones, thickening her eyelashes. Andy sighed: she really was a beautiful, beautiful woman.

Suddenly, Miranda's eyes were boring into hers.

Caught staring, Andy blushed furiously but refused to look away. Miranda's eyes were dark, half-hidden behind the lids, that killer eyebrow raised inquisitively, her lips slightly opened. Then she licked her lips and Andy hastily averted her eyes to the darkness that surrounded them.

The stars were out and even though the moon was still young, she could make out the glittering waters, the cabin lig-

Cabin lights?

"Oh, my god! Look! The lights! Over the lake, see?" Andy jumped up, and squinted mightily. Were those tiny silhouettes moving around over there?

"Indeed," Miranda did not sound particularly enthused.

"I can take the boat!" Andy turned to her, excitedly. "I could row there! I could go first thing in the morning!"

"You could." Miranda kept perfectly still.

Her lack of enthusiasm finally computed with Andy. "I… shouldn't I?"

"Oh, for God's sake." Miranda rose suddenly. "I'm going to bed."

She picked up the candle and glared at Andy. "There is a T-shirt for you in the bathroom. Good night."

"What the hell?" Stunned, Andy stared after her, once again left in the dark.

When Andy came in, Miranda was already in the bed, very resolutely facing the wall. Andy sighed; any further discussion would have to wait for the morning. Carefully, she squeezed in, trying not to jar the mattress too much. With a mighty blow, she extinguished the candle Miranda had left on the nightstand. Then, she aligned herself as close to the edge as humanly possible. She stared into the blackness, too agitated by Miranda's sudden mood change to fall asleep. It was driving her mad, the woman's ability to string her along like that.

Apparently, she'd spoken out of turn. Also obviously, Miranda did not feel particular pressure to leave. As flattering as it was, Andy wished she could feel that cavalier about their little adventure. Perhaps it wasn't entirely her fault, but Andy felt responsible for stranding them here. And it was apparently up to her to get them out. Naturally, Miranda would not perceive the situation as dire: typically, an Emily would solve these inconsequential details. Well, Andy used to be one doing the solving, and she could envision the zillion of problems they'd be facing when trying to leave.

And then there was Paris. It weighted heavily on Andy's mind. Not that she approved of Miranda's modus operandi, not when business turned personal and friends were getting hurt. But Andy expected more of herself. She prided herself on her professionalism, loyalty and strength. And what did she do? Ran away from Miranda and cheated on her boyfriend (and, yes, in that exact order of both priority and regret). Facing herself after that was… a harsh awakening, to say the least.

She looked anxiously in Miranda's direction. She wished she could see her face. In the total darkness, Miranda breathing was her only anchor to reality. Would she turn in her sleep? Move towards Andy accidentally? Andy squirmed a bit closer to the middle.

Her foot touched Miranda's and she froze. Miranda's breath hitched.

"Miranda?" she whispered, tentatively. "Are you asleep?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"What is it?" Miranda huffed, and Andy could feel her turning.

"Shouldn't we… um…talk about Paris?"

"Why?" Miranda sighed, "What's there to talk about?"

"Everything!" Andy surged up in bed. "I need to tell you why I left! And that I'm sorry! I tried to, in the car, but I fell asleep, I think. There's so much to… It's…I… damn. If you'd just read that damn letter—"

"Andrea," Miranda quietly interrupted. "I read your letter a year ago."

"Oh." Andy tried to wrap her mind about that, "But why—"

"Go to sleep, Andrea."