Sooner or later,
reality does occur and when it does,
all the lies show up,
like blood on snow.
- Andrew Clements
That very evening Andy got an email from Emily with a list of names, which she forwarded to Henry with the added comment, 'These people could be of use to you. They have reasons to dislike Stephen Clarke.'
'They probably hate him almost as much as I do.' Andy thought as she shut the lid of her computer. She 'hmph'd at the thought. She wondered how Miranda was and if she was safe tonight. The baby monitor on the counter beside her alerted her to the sound of Eva crying and whimpering in complaint of something. Camille was with her but Andy wanted to see her, if only to reassure herself.
She went to the nursery and saw Camille shushing Eva without much success. The baby had a set of lungs on her, Andy had to admit.
"Here let me take her." Andy said, and held out her arms, in which Eva was quickly deposited.
Andy began to hum a lullaby and rock her gently. It took a few minutes but Eva finally quieted. An alarm beeped and Camille said, "It's time to feed her. I'll fetch the bottle."
She left to go get a bottle from the kitchen. Andy watched the now quiet and alert infant blinking her still deep blue eyes up at her, unable to focus on anything much yet. She pressed her lips to Eva's forehead inhaling the 'new-baby' smell.
She felt tears burn behind her nose and she ground her teeth together. She remembered when Ethan still smelled like this. His soft hair, and sweet little face. She pressed another kiss to Eva's forehead and went to sit in the rocking chair. She hummed the air to 'All the pretty little ponies' and rocked back and forth. She heard her voice crack and felt a tear track its way down her cheek.
Camille came back, warm bottle in hand, ready to feed Eva.
The young woman took one look at her and said, "Miss Sachs-Goldman? What's wrong?"
"I'm fine. Eva's fine." She murmured, and swallowed hard.
Camille nodded, but looked unconvinced.
"I was just remembering when Ethan was this age. They look alike you know?" she didn't look up from Eva's face. She traced a fingertip along the edge of the child's jawline, remembering how similar Ethan's face had been to hers. Surely she was too young to resemble her brother so much? Surely Andy was imagining things? But the more Andy looked at Eva, the more she saw Ethan's features appear.
"Oh." Camille said, taken aback. "I hadn't thought of that."
Andy smiled bitterly. She sighed and stood. "Eva is probably hungry. Take her, will you?"
She handed Eva back to Camille with all the care in the world. Eva latched on to the bottle quickly enough and began to gulp down her milk like any healthy new-born would. Andy caressed her daughter's soft cheek once more with a brief smile, before heading to her studio to get some paper work done for the next day.
The phone rang and jerked Andy from her sleep with a jolt. She gasped, then realised the phone was ringing and picked up without thinking.
"Hello?" She managed to say into the phone. God only knew what time it was. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. 2:09am. She blinked.
"Andrea." Said an unmistakable voice on the other end. "Andrea, I— I need your help."
"Miranda?" Andy gasped, "What's wrong? Are you alright?"
There was silence before Andy heard the barest hint of a choked sob on the other end. "No. I—I don't think so."
"Where are you?" Andy sat up in bed and turned the side lamp on. "I'll come get you."
"I'm about two blocks down from my house."
"Miranda, are you safe?" Andy asked alarmed. She was outside at this time of night in New-York? What on earth happened? Andy wanted to ask but she knew there really wasn't any time.
"Miranda?" Andy asked, worried that she'd hung up.
"I'm safe enough." Miranda said, and Andy could hear the tears in her voice. Andy frowned and began to worry even more. Miranda never cried. It was completely unusual for her to be crying or asking for help.
"Miranda, I'm coming to get you. So just hold on alright?" Andy said as she pulled on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. "Are you hurt badly?"
"Define badly." Miranda snapped into the phone. 'Ah, there she is,' Andy thought relieved, 'a bit worse for wear but still herself.'
"Bleeding, cuts needing stitches, broken bones, anything needing medical attention that isn't in a first aid kit." Andy said, even though she knew Miranda's question had been purely rhetorical.
Miranda didn't reply, she merely sighed into the phone, exasperated.
"Do you have a coat on?" Andy asked, as she pulled on her own, realising Miranda must have run out of the house if she wasn't at home at this hour.
"…No." Miranda replied after a brief hesitation. Andy swore under her breathe. That bastard. It was freezing cold outside. It would take Andy at least fifteen minutes to get to Miranda. She swore again, cursing Stephen Clarke black and blue in her mind.
"I'll bring you one. In the meantime, tell me what happened." Andy said, now even more worried than before.
"Not like this. Not on the phone." Miranda murmured, and her voice expressed how exhausted she was.
"How long have you been outside?" Andy asked as she hurried out to her car in the parking lot.
Miranda sighed again and said, "Not long." Andy didn't believe her. She sounded cold for Christ's sake.
Andy arrived at the basement parking, hurried towards her car, unlocked it and then put the keys in the ignition all on autopilot.
"Are the girls safe?" Andy asked, realising she didn't know if the twins were alright.
"They're at a friend's house for a sleep over. Thank God." Miranda replied, her tone telling Andy that she was sincerely grateful they had not been there.
"Miranda, stay on the phone with me alright? I'll be there in a few minutes. Just hang on ok? I'll be there soon." Andy tried to reassure her but she got no reply from Miranda except a barely audible, "Alright."
Andy sped out of the parking area towards Miranda's townhouse, hoping she wasn't hurt horribly. Andy wanted to rip Stephen Clarke limb from limb for what he did to Miranda. Maybe she'd find a way to arrange that.
Andy finally neared the townhouse but continued as directed by Miranda to a few streets down where she found Miranda sitting at a bus stop with her arms wrapped around herself, shivering in the cold night as the wind whipped her hair across her face. She was wearing a grey bathrobe and what appeared to be pale blue sating pajamas.
Andy half ran out of the car towards her and wanted to pull her to her but didn't dare for fear of hurting her. Instead she gripped her hand and said, "Miranda."
The woman didn't respond except by looking up at her. Her neck was bruised, blue and turning dark purple. Her eyes were red, and she was shaking. Andy suspected that it was only partially due to the cold. What had that monster done to her?
Miranda stood up slowly, still holding Andy's hand. She leaned against Andrea, pressing her head into the side of Andy's neck. Andy quickly wrapped the coat she'd brought with her around her shoulders and carefully, still holding her hand, led her back to the car.
Once Miranda was safely sitting in the warm car, Andy turned to look at her.
"Do you want me to take you to a hotel for the night?" Andy asked, not daring to presume her apartment would suit her, even for just one night. Miranda, who was usually so strong, seemed horribly fragile in that instant.
She shook her head 'no'. That gave Andy pause, who then realised she only had one option left to offer.
"Would you like to come to my place then?" Andy asked, watching Miranda like a hawk. She was still shivering, and her eyes were blank, expressionless. Andy was worried she was in shock.
She nodded 'yes' still not looking at Andy.
Andy drove them back to her apartment, never letting Miranda's hand go unless it was absolutely necessary. When Miranda didn't stop shaking after five minutes, Andy turned the heat up.
They drove back in silence. Miranda leaned back into the seat, her eyes closed, still trembling like a leaf, despite the car helping to warm her up. All the while, whenever Andy glanced over, she never looked at Andy but held onto her hand like a life buoy. Her other hand was clenched into a fist, her nails digging into her palm.
'Oh God Miranda. Oh God please be alright.' Andy thought as she drove a bit faster than she really ought to, on the way home.
When they arrived, Miranda was still silent as the grave. Andy removed her coat for her and hung it up. She felt strangely like it was déja-vue, then realised it was what she did when Miranda arrived for her sessions usually, but this was most certainly not that.
She led Miranda to the living room, and sat her down on the couch.
"I'll make some tea, to help warm you up." Andy said, quietly, conscious of the nanny and the baby sleeping just down the hall.
Andy handed her a throw blanket she kept on the couch and Miranda took it from her.
She left the living room and made chamomile tea as quickly as she could. She hoped they wouldn't wake Eva up before her feeding time.
When she finally came back to the living room, pot of tea in hand, with two mugs, Miranda was curled up with her knees to her chest, sitting on the couch leaning her head into her hands.
Andy put the teapot and mugs down on the coffee table. She poured Miranda a cup and placed it in front of her on the table, then went to sit beside her before pouring her own. Miranda looked up as she sat down. Andy could tell she been crying.
"You'll call in sick to work tomorrow." Andy whispered to her. Miranda nodded in agreement. Her face was grey and she looked almost defeated. She was known for her work ethic but even she knew, she could not function worth a damn at the moment.
Andy reached out and slowly, so that Miranda could see, cupped her cheek, running her thumb across her cheekbone. Miranda shut her eyes, leaning into her touch.
"Finish your tea and I'll get you some fresh pajamas." Andy told her firmly. Miranda's clothes were wet from the snow and no doubt she'd be more comfortable in a dry pair of borrowed pajamas.
Miranda picked up the mug from the table and blew on it gently. Andy went to rummage through her drawers until she could find something that might fit her comfortably. She found a pair of her old pajamas that were warm, and clean. They weren't anything fancy, but they'd do. She texted Beverly that she had a guest who was staying over, and that the guest bedroom was not to be disturbed.
When she came back, bundle of clothes in hand, Miranda had mostly finished her mug and was back to sitting quietly on the couch.
"You look exhausted." Andy murmured, and Miranda simply looked at her. Andy could see the pain in her beautiful eyes. The anger and the rage blended into the grey and blue shades. At least they were no longer blank. Andy had been worried mostly about that.
"Let's get you settled." Andy said, and held out her hand Miranda took it, standing cautiously. Andy saw her wince and grind her teeth together as she did so. Andy shut her eyes briefly and once again considered murdering Miranda's husband in cold blood.
He would pay for it. Andy would make sure, he would pay.
Putting those thoughts aside for the time being, she led Miranda down the hall way to the guest bedroom. She opened the door and Miranda took one look at it and shook her head.
"What's wrong?" Andy asked perplexed.
Miranda looked away then whispered, "I don't want to be alone tonight."
"Oh." Andy said, feeling like an idiot. "Um. Well then. Let's go to my room."
Miranda nodded once.
When Andy opened the door to her own larger bedroom further down the hall, Miranda allowed Andy to lead her inside. Andy handed Miranda the spare set of pajamas and pointed the on-suite bathroom and said, "You can change in there if you like."
Miranda licked her lips then whispered, "I don't think I can."
Andy lifted her eyebrows but then realised why she couldn't.
"I'll help you then."
She let Miranda sit on the bed while she unbuttoned the pale blue satin and then, after slowly removing the bathrobe, removed the chemise. Underneath, Miranda's shoulder blades were covered in splotchy bruises. Her arms had finger marks on them, and her ribs were badly bruised as well. The angry red and purple bruise on her neck stretched to her collar bone as well.
Andy had to look away to prevent herself from reacting brashly. She swallowed hard and said, "I think you're collarbone is broken."
Miranda said nothing.
"Miranda, you should see a doctor." Andy said, looking her up and down, trying not to cry at the thought of her being in pain. It made her feel sick, seeing her suffer like this.
"No." Miranda said, with finality.
"Miranda—"
"No." Miranda repeated, this time glaring at Andrea.
Andy sighed and decided she would retackle the subject tomorrow. Nothing seemed in need of surgery or an ER.
Andy helped her out of the rest of her clothes, relieved to see that she wasn't bruised as much below the waist. There were, however, finger marks on her hips and ones on her wrist which she hadn't seen before.
Andy's eyes widened with understanding. He'd raped her. The bastard had fucking raped her. Andy shut her eyes, shaking with anger, then grabbed the nearest thing which just happened to be her alarm clock, yanked it out of the wall and sent it smashing to the floor. Miranda gasped, startled by the sudden outburst of fury. Andy clenched her hands into fists and then saw Miranda's face turning white.
Andy immediately forced herself to calm down. This was the last thing Miranda needed at the moment. She had to be calm.
"I'm sorry. I just— I'm sorry. I let my emotions get the better of me."
It was a miracle she hadn't woken Eva up with the noise.
Miranda nodded and picked up the pj pants and tried to slide them on herself but couldn't quite manage with her shoulder the way it was. Andy quickly moved to help her, and then Miranda was dressed for bed. Andy lifted up the cover and helped Miranda crawl in. She felt like she was in some kind of surreal nightmare, that she'd wake up and find it was all a terrible dream. But Andy knew it wasn't.
In almost any other circumstances, she'd have been happy to have Miranda in the same bed as her, but this was certainly not the time to be thinking of that. Andy shook her head and went to get her own pj's back on before turning out the light and crawling into bed herself.
It was strange having Miranda, lying there, and still shaking intermittently.
Andy reached across the bed and took Miranda's hand in her own. Then she moved closer until she lay beside her. It was Miranda who moved even closer, pressing herself against Andy.
Andy shifted so that she could reach up and wrap a careful arm around Miranda, her hand cupping her face, fingers twining with Miranda's white hair. Miranda allowed herself to be gathered even closer into Andy's embrace, resting her head in the crook of Andy's neck.
Andy said nothing, merely focused on gently running her hand along Miranda's face and petting her hair. There were no words that could make any of this better. She pressed her lips to Miranda's forehead. Andy could feel her shaking in her arms, either from rage or sadness or a mixture of both.
Miranda's breathing began to come in shaky gasps, fast and sharp like she wasn't getting enough air. Andy knew she was having a panic attack. She sat up and help Miranda lie flat on her back.
"Breathe. Miranda, you need to breathe. I'm here. Nothing can harm you." Andy said calmly and Miranda nodded, her eyes wide and her breathing ragged.
"Breathe with me. Try to breathe with me." Andy instructed and began to take long deep breaths. Miranda couldn't quite manage for the first few minutes, but Andy was persistent and held her hand and kept on encouraging and soothing her. Then after what felt like an eternity, Miranda's breathing began to slow, a few deeper breaths at a time.
"That's right. That's good. There we go." Andy said and as Miranda's breathing calmed, Andy lay back down beside her. Miranda once more pressed herself into Andy's arms, still trembling.
They lay in silence, Miranda clutching Andy's hand hard in her own. Andy pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and murmured, "I'm here. You're safe now. I'm here."
Andy felt something wet against her shoulder and realised Miranda was weeping silently.
Andy began to kiss intermittently all around her face, trying to comfort this indomitable woman, who seemed so shattered.
"Oh Miranda." Andy whispered between light kisses. There was nothing but silence from the other woman, for a long moment.
"He was drunk when he came home. I was working on the Book in the living room. He came in raging mad because I had been forced to miss dinner because of a crisis at work. He— he came and began to yell and then he hit me. He said the least I could do was give him a good f-fuck if I couldn't be a good wife. Then he raped me. I tried to fight him off, but he only beat me harder."
Andy said nothing. There was nothing she could say. She prayed Henry would help her destroy Miranda's monster of a husband as soon as was humanly possible. It was all she could do and by God did she ever feel helpless with that knowledge, lying in bed here with Miranda still crying silently.
"When he was done, he went upstairs. I stayed downstairs for a long while, and then I ran outside. It was sheer luck that I had my phone in my pocket. You were the only one," Miranda swallowed hard. "The only one I could call."
"I'm going to stop him from doing this Miranda. One way or another. I swear it." Andy said, and she could only hope her voice would impart a fraction of how deeply she meant those words.
Miranda looked Andy square in the eye, unflinching and then she nodded once. She understood that Andy meant what she had said.
"Do you want a sleeping pill or will you sleep without one?" Andy asked, after a few moments.
"I wouldn't say no to one." Miranda said, resigned. Andy could only guess at the memories plaguing her, replaying themselves in her mind.
Andy reached behind herself into the bedside table's drawer and pulled out a bottle of pills.
"I'll get you some water. I'll be right back." She sat up out of bed. Then she went to the kitchen and got a glass of water.
She was startled to hear the sound of footsteps coming up behind her. She turned around almost dropping the glass but then saw it was Beverly and let out a relieved sigh.
"You startled me." Andy whispered, a bit breathless.
"I'm sorry Miss Sachs-Goldman." Beverly replied with a weak smile. "It's time to feed Eva."
"Yes of course 3:00am on the dot. I should have guessed."
"Can I ask who your guest is and how long they are staying? I'll let Maria know if we need more groceries when she goes out tomorrow."
"You cannot tell anyone apart from Camille, Olivia and Maria who it is who is staying here, or she could be in danger. In fact, it would be best if you did not tell anyone that I even have a guest. Is that clear?" Andy said in a soft, low, and deadly serious voice. The one she used to get her point across during days as a CEO in a board meeting and now to impress upon Beverly the severity of the situation.
Beverly's mouth fell open and her eyes widened. When Andy glared, she recovered enough to say, "Yes ma'am. I won't tell a soul."
Andy looked at her fixedly, and thought, 'You had better not. Or you'll regret it.'
"Miranda Priestly is my guest tonight and will be for as long as she wants to be." Andy said without giving further explanation.
Beverly nodded, seemingly at a loss for words. Andy retrieved a milk bottle from the fridge and handed it to Beverly.
"See you in the morning Beverly." Andy said and left the nanny to her task of feeding Eva.
Glass of water in hand, she peeked in on Eva who was still thankfully quiet and breathing in her crib in the nursery.
Andy saw the memory of Ethan lying cold and still in a crib similar to this one and winced. She bit her bottom lip hard, bringing herself back into the present. Gripping the glass of water tighter, she went back to her own room where Miranda was no doubt waiting.
When she returned to the room, Miranda was sitting up, leaning against the headboard. Andy handed her a pill and the glass.
She took the pill quickly, desperate for the respite from reality sleep might bring, or so Andy supposed. Andy carefully ensconced herself against Miranda's side once more and then, waited for sleep to claim her for the remainder of what could be call the night or the morning, depending on how one chose to look at it.
The next morning, Andy woke up to find herself alone in bed. She sat up straight, instantly forcing herself to be alert. Had Miranda left? Did she go back home? Did she leave?
She checked the bathroom and it was empty, then ran out to the living room and called out, "Miranda? Are you still—"
She stopped short as she passed by the kitchen area and saw Miranda sitting, carefully, at the island, coffee mug in one hand, iPad in the other, reading the newspaper.
Maria was at the stove cooking up something that smelled divine and looked like French toast.
'Oh thank God.' Andy thought to herself as she headed for the coffee pot. She certainly needed it this morning.
"Good morning Miss." Said Maria, not looking up from her frying pan, as she prodded the piece of cooking toast.
"Morning Maria." Andy said through a muffled yawn. "Has Camille arrived yet?"
"Oh yes miss, she arrive about an hour ago."
"Good. I'm going to check on Eva then."
Maria looked up and offered an encouraging smile.
Before leaving Andy turned to look at the woman reading the newspaper quietly at her counter and said, "Good morning Miranda."
Miranda hummed in acknowledgement around a sip of scalding hot coffee. She strangely did not seem out of place, in Andy's kitchen, sitting at the island, reading the paper as though it were any other day. Andy did notice however that the grey bathrobe had the collar turned up slightly, to hide the bruises on her neck as best she could.
'What a strange way to start the day.' Andy mused as she headed down the hall to check on her daughter and the nanny.
- TBC -