A/N: Since I may not have a chance to get to this again until the weekend, I'm giving you another update right away. Thank you again-so much-for the encouragement on this one. I find that I'm writing it very quickly because I really really want to get to some Mirandy parts ;) Please R/R xx
The next morning, Andrea busied herself making arrangements for Miranda's upcoming exam and surgery. Trying to get both surgeons in the same hospital at the same time next week proved more difficult than she would have imagined. By the time Miranda arrived, though, Andrea handed her an updated schedule. Her exam would be Friday afternoon at 3pm, and, provided there were no other underlying conditions, her surgery would be first thing Monday morning. Andrea smiled, proud that she managed to have everything scheduled so quickly.
"Th—this Monday?" Miranda asked, practically choking on her own saliva as she read the schedule Andrea printed for her.
"Yes," Andrea said, "And you'll see that three and half weeks later—exactly four weeks from tomorrow—you'll begin chemo, and then…by Christmas, you're finished."
"Excellent choice of words, Andrea," Miranda spat out, brushing past the woman and marching into her office.
Andrea did not follow her, instead, walking into the kitchen to pour Miranda a cup of green tea. "Miranda?" she said, walking into the inner office, "Here's your tea. I'm so sorry about before. I—you know I didn't mean that." Andrea hung her head as she softly chewed on her lower lip.
"I know," Miranda said, sighing as she took her glasses off and set them on her desk. "I'm just a little on edge today. I spoke with James last night, and he is meeting me at the townhouse so we can tell the girls together. Now, it looks like they will be moving in with James and his wife as soon as this weekend."
"I can call James and go over any specifics if you'd like," Andrea offered.
"No, I need to do this. But first," Miranda said, sighing and looking over Andrea's shoulder, "I believe I have a meeting with Nigel." Andrea nodded and stepped out of the office, closing the doors and trying to busy herself at her desk.
Nearly an hour later, Nigel stepped out, closing the door behind him. "Hey, Six," he said, "As you probably figured, Miranda has asked me to step in as interim Editor-in-chief while she takes a leave of absence. Emily will report directly to me—I am to fill her in when she returns. Miranda is meeting with Irv later to discuss her leave, and if all goes well, she will still be available for consult throughout her leave, so you will be working either here, for me, or from Miranda's home office, wherever you're most needed." Nigel studied Andrea's face, searching for something that might give her emotions away. "I know Miranda has a tendency to be rather unpleasant," he said, "and while there may be a few occasions that I could actually use a second assistant…you have a choice, Andy."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"It's your choice. If you don't want to be reporting to Miranda for the next ten months, that is ultimately your call."
"Is that what Miranda said?" she asked.
"More or less. She won't hold it against you, you know."
"Does she want me there?"
"I can't answer that, but think about it. She would go above and beyond to ensure you weren't there if that was what she wanted."
Nigel had a point. "Thanks, Nigel. I'll speak with her later."
The rest of the day went by much like the morning. Miranda's meeting with Irv was very short, and Andrea imagined Irv was more than supportive of the idea of Miranda taking extended time off, seeing that it was just one step closer to replacing her for good.
When Emily returned from her errands, she was appraised of the situation and spent the remainder of the afternoon working with Andrea to reschedule meetings and appointments with designers. Luckily, they didn't need to bring Nigel up to speed on anything, as he had already been such an influence.
Miranda spent another hour of her afternoon meeting with Leslie to discuss a media strategy for when the news leaked. Around 1:30pm, "Andrea, call Roy," Miranda said as she exited her office. Andrea called the driver while Emily retrieved Miranda's coat and bag, both assistants walking her to the elevator.
Standing, facing the elevator doors, Miranda took a deep breath. "Girls, I will only say this once: I am not dying. I am not in pain. If I see a single look of pity from any of you, you—you can—" she paused as her voice cracked.
"Understood," Emily interjected.
"Good luck tonight," Andrea said.
Miranda turned and said to Andrea, "Lord knows I'll need it," before she stepped into the elevator.
Andrea left early that night. She wasn't quite sure whether she needed to come into the office tomorrow, but somehow, it didn't matter so much. Emily was delivering the book to Nigel's home, but all Andrea could think of was Miranda breaking the news to her precious girls. She knew it wasn't her place to ask, but she wouldn't be able to sleep without knowing how it went.
Picking up her phone, she quickly texted Miranda: Hi. Your appointment is at 3pm tomorrow and Roy will pick you up. Will you be at home or the office?
Several minutes later, Andrea received a response: Ok. I don't expect to return to the office for several months. You will be working here everyday I understand?
Andrea quickly replied: Yes—when would you like me over?
Miranda replied: Sunday evening—the girls will be gone.
Andrea responded: Sleep well tonight—call if anything comes up, not that I need to remind you. ;)
A few minutes later, Miranda responded: Goodnight, Andrea.
The next few days flew by. At nine o'clock on Sunday, Andrea arrived at the townhouse with a small tote. Miranda didn't outright ask her to stay the night, but when she arrived, but as expected, Miranda immediately led her to the guest bedroom.
"I don't expect you to move in," she said, "but I realize we might not be keeping typical office hours, so you are more than welcome to stay the night here if you need."
"Wow," Andrea said. Miranda looked at her questioningly. "I'm just surprised. Thank you, that is generous, Miranda."
The older woman rolled her eyes. "I'm going to bed. I spoke with Roy at length today, and he will be here at 5:45am."
"Can I do anything for you tonight?"
"No," she said. "Just knowing I'm not alone in this giant house helps."
"Can I ask how things went on Thursday night?" Andrea said. After several seconds of silence, she added, "You don't have to answer—I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."
"Nonsense. James brought his wife Tess with him, but they were both very supportive and willing to help. It's just such a relief to know my girls will be okay. Oh, and you will need to get my lawyer's number from Leslie so you can call him when the surgery is over."
"And tell him what?" Andrea asked.
"Whether he needs to take action on my will."
"Your will? Miranda, you are not going to die!"
"Andrea, I have to be prepared. My girls are so young."
Andrea leaned against the doorframe, "Are you scared?"
Miranda crossed her arms tightly across her chest. "Ask me tomorrow," she said. "Goodnight, Andrea. And—thank you."
The next morning, Andrea and Miranda rode to the hospital in silence. Andrea could sense Miranda's nervousness—surprising, really, thinking about how much she learned about the older woman in the past week.
The hospital was relatively quiet when they arrived, and in no time, Miranda was in a soft cotton gown, waiting to go back to surgery. It was humbling to see Miranda Priestly so fragile, no makeup or jewelry, a saline drip dangling above her head and a pulse oximiter clamped on her index finger. Her eyes were shut, but Andrea knew she wasn't sleeping. Glancing at the oversized Louis Vuitton tote Miranda insisted on bringing, Andrea saw the velvet mouse slippers peeking out and had to smile.
Who ever thought Andrea Sachs would be smiling when thinking of Miranda Priestly? Anxious to see her or hear from her when they were apart? Scared at the thought of Miranda dying? Looking over at the small, pale woman, a single tear escaped her eye. "No, I won't do this," Andrea muttered, wiping her eye and turning to look out the window.
"Andrea, come here." Andrea quickly turned around and walked over to Miranda's bedside. Miranda grasped the young woman's hand, squeezing tightly as tears threatened to fall from her eyes. "Look after my girls, Andrea. They will need the influence of a smart, young woman, especially as they grow older. And—"
"No, Miranda, I can't do this. You're going to be fine. It's just surgery." Andrea said as tears streamed down her face.
"It is a six-hour invasive surgery. Anything can happen. Please promise me you will be there for them," Miranda said, reaching up to brush her hand along Andrea's cheek.
"Okay," she replied, her voice shaky, "I promise."
"Miranda," the nurse called as she stepped into the room, "We're ready for you." The nurse unlocked the wheels on the cart and began moving Miranda out of the room.
Andrea quickly bent down and hugged Miranda, pressing a light kiss to her cheek. "Good luck," she whispered, "I'll be waiting for you here when you wake up."
The following hours were torturous for Andrea. She was too nervous to fall asleep, and had Emily, Nigel, Leslie, and James all checking in with her every hour, all for different reasons, Emily of all people was the only one genuinely concerned about the surgery itself. Halfway through, Dr Barry stepped out and told Andrea that the mastectomy portion was complete, and that Miranda was doing well. She did, however, find additional lymph node involvement and would have to slightly alter the chemotherapy, providing Miranda with a stronger dose to ensure any remaining cancer-forming cells are destroyed. Elizabeth also mentioned that she was quite impressed with Dr Grant's work, and she was very hopeful that Miranda would recover well in the next few weeks.
"There is one more thing, Andrea," Elizabeth said. "Will you be staying with Miranda?"
"Um, no. Not unless I need to. I will be working from her home every day, though, so I can help her during the day," Andrea said.
"She will be going home with a drain surgically sewn into each breast. This is standard procedure, and by monitoring the amount and color of the fluid, we can better know how well her muscles are healing. The drains are small, and will need to be emptied frequently, especially during the first 48 hours. I will also make sure the nurse sends compression sleeves for her arm—she is not to lift anything heavier than, say, a gallon of milk, even once she is fully healed. This will all be in the discharge instructions, but I just want to reiterate some of the issues Miranda may be, well, opposed to."
"Thank you, Dr Barry," Andrea said. "what type of clothing should she wear?"
"Of course, fashion," she said, chuckling. "We will send her home with a sports-bra-like top that zips up the front and is slightly longer, so it doesn't cut into the underside of the breast. Anything like that is fine. It will be difficult for her to pull anything over her head in the first week or so, though, so you might want to think of loose blouses, ribbed tanks and zip-up or button-up sweaters, etc. Andrea, you'll do fine. Call if you need anything."
"Thanks again, doctor," Andrea said as Elizabeth walked away. Andrea called Emily and had her pull a selection of items from the closet and run them over to the townhouse while they waited. Hours later, Dr Grant came out to speak with Andrea.
"She did very well," he said, "I think she will be very pleased. When I spoke with her, she explained that she wanted to remain the same overall size, but she wanted to make sure I saved the nipples. Because of where her tumor was located, that was not a problem. Right now, she has expanders in, and those are essentially extra-sturdy balloons, barely inflated. Once her breast tissue is healing properly, we can begin injecting air into the expanders, gradually stretching the skin and tissue, until we reach the desired size. After her chemotherapy treatments, we can do a minor outpatient procedure to essentially slip out the expander and replace it with a traditional silicone implant. Call us if she has any sharp pains or difficulty breathing. We're sending her home with several different pain and nausea medications, but just remember that it's important to keep the breasts supported. It might seem like it would feel better to take the bra off, but in actuality, it can cause pain and potentially damage."
"Wow, thank you so much," Andrea said. "Can I see her now?"
"Yes, of course. She's probably still asleep, though. Call the nurse when she wakes so they can administer additional pain medication."
Andrea nodded and stepped back into the room. Miranda looked disheveled, but after what she was through, who wouldn't. Andrea sent a few quick texts off to Emily, Nigel, Leslie, and James, letting them know that she was sitting with her, and that she was just waking up, everything had gone well.
The young woman softly ran her fingers through Miranda's hair, partly to straighten it out, partly because she just wanted to touch the other woman, to feel her. Miranda slowly opened her eyes, taking in her surroundings. Andrea reached down and took Miranda's hand, smiling, bringing it up to her lips and gently kissing the woman's knuckles.
"Take me home," Miranda said as she closed her eyes again, biting her lip.
"Okay, I will. As soon as the nurse get you some medication, okay?" Andrea reassured. Miranda nodded, her eyes tightly shut, as Andrea frantically pushed the 'call' button for the nurse.
After getting Miranda some morphine, the nurse showed her how to change the drains, as well as the other discharge and care instructions. Miranda was to follow up with her surgeon in two days, but Andrea was able to get Dr Barry to agree to a house-call, provided Miranda wasn't experiencing extreme pain or any unusual complications.
The nurse recommended Miranda stay overnight at the hospital, just so they could monitor her pain better with IV medications. Andrea agreed, though she wondered how she had suddenly started making decisions about Miranda's very personal health issues without even consulting her. Hopefully, Miranda trusted her enough to not object or ask questions. Andrea stayed the night in the recliner next to Miranda's bed, watching the woman sleep and dream.
In the morning, Andrea and the nurse helped Miranda into the car. Roy drove home slower than usual, careful not to stop abruptly or otherwise jostle the fragile woman in the back seat. It was roughly a thirty minute ride back to the townhouse, and nearly ten minutes into the drive, Miranda started crying. She and Andrea were riding in a comfortable silence, until it seemed like out of nowhere, she started to cry. Andrea watched, unsure of what to do, not knowing if something like a hug would be too uncomfortable for the woman.
"Are you in pain?" Andrea asked, deciding she needed to break the silence and find out if something had gone wrong.
"No," Miranda said between sobs. Andrea placed her hand gently on Miranda's thigh, keeping the connection for the rest of the ride home. Roy and Andrea helped Miranda into the townhouse, slowly walking her all the way upstairs to her bedroom. Andrea busied herself rearranging things in the townhouse and making it more comfortable while the editor laid on the bed.
Andrea went downstairs, saying she was making a small snack and that she wanted to prepare some things. Miranda thought nothing of it, but when she needed to use the bathroom, she was surprised to find that she could not pull herself up off the bed into a sitting position without excruciating pain. "Andrea!" she called, but there was no response. Miranda knew she would come back upstairs eventually, but she really needed to use the bathroom at that moment. She continued to twist and turn, trying to scoot her way off the bed, but every move she made sent searing pain through her upper torso. Tears filled Miranda's eyes as she recognized her own helplessness in that moment.
"Miranda?" Andrea asked, running into the room, slightly out of breath from sprinting up the stairs. "Were you calling me?"
Miranda nodded her head, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "I can't get up…I have to use the bathroom."
Andrea quietly gasped, sensing the woman's humiliation. Leaning forward and gently slipping her arms beneath Miranda's, she lifted her slowly, supporting her upper back, as the nurse showed her at the hospital. Once she was in a sitting position, she moved herself to the edge of the bed and Andrea held her hand out, steading Miranda as she stood.
"Thank you," she said as she walked past Andrea and into the bathroom. It was then that Andrea realized her job was going to be much more difficult than she thought. Seeing that look—utter humiliation—on Miranda's face was something she never wanted to see again. She wanted to make sure Miranda would never feel helpless again, but deep down, she knew the next months would greatly challenge that. Andrea was fluffing pillows when Miranda stepped out of the bathroom.
The silver-haired woman climbed into bed and lowered herself against the pillows. Her eyes were red-rimmed from tears. Turning her head to the side, away from Andrea, she couldn't help the tears that continued to fall.
"I can't do this," Miranda said quietly.
"Listen," Andrea replied, trying to prevent the woman from a self-pitying diatribe, "you have to do this—for yourself, for your girls. Miranda, they need you."
"I can't even get out of my own bed. Do you know what that feels like?" she hissed.
"No," Andrea said quietly, looking down at her feet and slowly backing away, "No, I don't." She took a deep breath. "I'm going to sit out in the hallway for a while. Let me know if you need anything. I won't go out of earshot." Miranda nodded and Andrea shut the door partway, curling up on the chaise in the hall, crying herself into a light sleep.
It was only noon, and Andrea was exhausted. With anesthesia long gone and residual effects of morphine well out of her system, Miranda was actually doing well. Even the fluids in her drains were beginning to clear, a good sign.
"Andrea?" Miranda called.
Opening her eyes and running her hand through her hair, the young woman entered Miranda's room.
"Empty the drains again?" she asked. Again, Andrea nodded. Within minutes, the drains were empty, fluid volume recorded in her log. Andrea poured Miranda some more water, handing her the glass with the straw.
"You know, I always hated straws."
"Why?" Andrea asked.
"Because they made me feel like I was sick." Andrea froze, her hand involuntarily reaching to take the straw away. "No, it's okay," Miranda said as she pushed her hand away. "I was just trying to make conversation, I guess."
Andrea took a deep breath, ready to return back to her new location in the hallway when Miranda reached out and took her hand. "Please stay in here. There is plenty of room. I know I may not be the best company, and I'm certainly nothing to look at, but please, I would really appreciate it."
Andrea's expression softened as her eyes met Miranda's. "Of course," she said. "You are a beautiful woman, Miranda, and for some reason, I actually like your company."
"I'm not sure if I believe that, Andrea. You've been doing a good job of avoiding me."
Andrea pointed to the space on the mattress next to Miranda. "Can I?" she asked. Miranda nodded, and Andrea climbed up, careful not to bounce the mattress too much. She laid against the pillow and turned to face Miranda. "I feel like I don't know how to talk to you, Miranda. At work, we could always talk about your schedule or whatever. With doctors, there are always details to discuss. But just being here, I—I've lost my voice or something."
Miranda turned to look at Andrea. "I think I know what you mean," she said.
"Miranda, since the first day I've met you, I have been conditioned how to act around you, how to speak to you. These past few weeks—ever since Paris, really, it's just been…I don't know, different between us. And I don't mean to upset you or anything. It's just…"
"We've grown closer, Andrea," Miranda said. "I know what you mean about it being different—I'll admit, around you, the 'Ice Queen' facade slips away so easily."
"For what it's worth, I like this side of you."
"Andrea, I'm not a box, I do not have sides."
Andrea started laughing, "You totally stole that line from Postcards from the Edge, but I'll let it slide."
Miranda blushed, "Well, it was quite fitting. I mean, how many chances will you have in a lifetime to—" She cut herself short, not in the mood for discussing what she will and will not do in her lifetime. "I'm sorry, I—I can't," she said, turning her head to the side, and crossing her arms across her waist.
Andrea moved closer to Miranda, resting her chin on Miranda's shoulder and softly draping her arm across Miranda's own. "Hey, don't worry," she said. "Let's get some rest, okay? Dr Barry is coming at 5:30, and I would like to be able to keep my eyes open when she's here."
Miranda laced her fingers with Andrea's, moving her other hand to lay softly on Andrea's wrist as they drifted off to sleep.
TBC