So I've been quiet recently, mostly because I've been suffering from a massive case of writers block and I've gotten myself into a place where I have two pretty long fics on the go at once and it is stressing me out.
This came out tonight in under an hour. It hasn't been beta'd so I apologise for any mistakes. I'll try and get something written for Bruised or Not What it Seems this week. But j can't promise anything. Just know that I am trying and the fact I continue to get favs and follows despite the fact I haven't updated for weeks gives me hope.
You guys are honestly amazing and I wouldn't get anything down if it wasn't for the support.
Hey, I'm with you, okay? Always
Miranda woke with a start, the blurred remnants of her dream burning behind her eyes. Her heart was racing, her palms were damp and her breathing ragged. Andrea gone. Andrea walking away. Andrea leaving her. The images assaulted her over and over. Her chest tightening as she fought to regain control over her body and her racing mind.
She tried to remember what her therapist told her, about how she shouldn't fight against the panic, about how no matter what it felt like, she couldn't loose consciousness no matter how close she felt she was to blacking out. She tried to take the slow, deep breaths she knew she should, but between her racing heart and the tears which drenched her face, it felt impossible.
She had thought she was past this. For months, every night she woke at least once, often multiple times, in varying States of panic and she spent her days heavily medicated but still teetering on the edge of panic. But recently, at least for the last week or so, it has been better, to the point that she had actually believed that she was going to be ok. How foolish. She had been living with the anxiety long enough to know that it never truly went away, that it could subside for weeks, months, years even, but all it took was a trigger and she was thrown back into it again and she had to identify the trigger and neutralise it before she could begin to tackle the panic attacks.
A cool hand in her back startled her and she flinched away, not wanting to be touched, wanting to curl in on herself and allow herself to be swept away.
"Hey." The hand didn't return but she was aware of a presence behind her, "Miranda you're ok."
"I'm not." She sobbed, curling around her knees and rocking slightly, "Andrea left, she's not coming back."
"No Miranda, I'm here. Sweetheart I'm right here." The hand returned and she didn't have the energy to resist it. The voice behind her sounded so familiar, so like home, that she could feel her body responding to it, beginning to calm, "shhh you're ok. I've got you."
She felt the fog recede as her chest loosened, her breathes coming more evenly, though they were still shallow and her head was still spinning. The vague feeling of the body behind her became more solid, more grounding, and she allowed herself to be pulled back against it.
"Try and breath with me. Nice and slow. That's right." She voice was right by her ear, a hand pressed lightly against her diaphragm. She wasn't sure how long it took, it varied from panic attack to panic attack, but eventually the pressure eased and she collapsed back, exhausted, into the body behind her. A hand continued to run soothingly through her hair and she twisted so that her ear was pressed against her chest, the heartbeat strong and steady in her ear.
"I'm sorry." Her voice was husky and raw and it still shook with the emotion of the last several minutes.
"Hey," a gentle finger beneath her chin angled her face so that she was looking up into deep brown eyes. "I'm with you, okay?" The younger woman leant down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. Pulling them back down into bed and pulling the cover back over them both. She allowed herself to be manoeuvred so she was curled against Andrea's body, her head tucked into her neck. The final word before she fell back into an exhausted sleep proving enough to keep the dreams at bay at least for the night. "Always."