It's too warm. Hospitals always are, the air drying her mouth uncomfortably while she waits for Nigel to get back with bottles of water for them both. Miranda shifts awkwardly in her chair, her tattered knees stinging as the dressings covering them rub against the fabric of her pants. It could be worse, she muses to herself. There is a throbbing on the left side of her head, but at least it isn't a concussion and only bruised, though she could do without the ever-present nausea that has been plaguing her since it happened.

She's been a very fortunate woman tonight, and she knows it. A rush of gratitude fills her that she is sitting here in the world's most uncomfortable chair, because she very nearly wasn't here at all. Her children almost lost their mother tonight and that heartbreaking thought makes her eyes sting and her throat close up.

Miranda can't take her eyes off the woman in the bed, even when the 'click' of the door opening catches her attention. She knows without looking that it's Nigel and inwardly sighs as she anticipates his questions.

The first one is easy. "How is she? Has the doctor been back in to see her?" he asks, his voice low and soothing as she finally turns her head to meet sympathetic eyes.

"He has. He was rather unhelpful, but he did at least reassure me that she'll recover," Miranda replies, taking the bottle that he offers her with relief. "Thank you."

He smiles gently in acknowledgement. "Has she woken up yet?"

Shaking her head, Miranda's eyes slip closed for a second. For a brief moment she is back on the pavement, staring at a man who has become a stranger to her over the years. A monster wearing the face of someone she had once trusted. She shakes herself out of her nightmarish vision, answering briefly in the hopes that she will be able to maintain her dignity and not let her emotions overwhelm her. "Not yet, no."

Silence. Blissful silence follows as he digests her news, dragging a chair quietly across the room and coming to sit on the other side of Andrea's bed.

There is small comfort to be found in simply not being alone, and Nigel has always been good at anticipating her needs. She is grateful that he doesn't force her to talk or make demands. In his position, she's almost sure she would be pushing for answers by now. It's obvious the man has questions.

So does Miranda.

She watches as Andrea frowns, the wrinkling of her forehead cracking the dried blood that stands out in contrast against her pale face. It matches the now-dried fluids that are on her own outfit and for a moment she wonders whether the blood on her clothes is hers or Andrea's. It could be either.

"What happened, Miranda?" Nigel finally asks with a sigh when the silence between them grows heavy.

"Stephen," Miranda answers cryptically, before releasing a sigh of her own. She owes him an explanation, and it's best to give him one if only to get the chance to ask her own questions. "He is the man responsible for the letters that were delivered to my office."

"And was it also him that broke into your home?" Nigel asks, but he apparently guesses the answer to that and doesn't wait for a reply. "Why?"

"He wasn't happy with the divorce settlement. This was… revenge. Or perhaps desperation? The police informed me he had enough ammunition in his coat to take out the entire building. I find myself grateful that I was outside when he arrived."

Drunk and desperate, Stephen has truly shocked her. She had known he was unhappy, but to find out that he is behind the campaign of death threats and odd things happening has rattled her. This man she had once loved is not someone she ever expected to be driven to these kinds of measures.

It's shocking that he would do this to her, but he crossed a further line when he broke into the townhouse, scrawling a chilling message on the girls' bedroom wall. She's angry with herself now for not recognising the man's childish handwriting.

"I still don't understand," Nigel admits, bending forwards to lean his elbows on the bed. "Where was your bodyguard?"

Miranda freezes. It's not as if she isn't aware that this is all her fault, but how will Nigel react? What can she really tell him that will make any of this okay? In the end she opts for telling the truth. He will know if she doesn't, he always does. It's a most annoying habit of his, but she loves him dearly for it. Not that she will ever tell him that.

"I had a run-in with Irv. I couldn't face spending a single second longer in that building with him so I walked out. Gabriella had slipped into the conference room to make a call, and I left without her. I know it was reckless and now it is Andrea who has paid the price. I don't need you to tell me that."

Nigel clucks sympathetically. It's no secret just how volatile her working relationship with Irv is. It's been this way for years. "I wasn't going to. God, Miranda, I can see how shaken you are. But… why was Andrea there? What actually happened?"

Why was she there?

Miranda would like an answer to that question herself. "I don't have the vaguest idea. One moment I was on my knees staring down the barrel of a gun outside Elias-Clark, and the next moment I was being rescued by what I presumed to be a man, wearing a helmet and motorcycle leathers."

"Except it wasn't a man at all, it was our Six," Nigel fills in the blanks, a fond smile on his face.

"Yes. She tackled him to the ground, and got herself shot in the process. Twice, in fact. Once in the stomach and once in the arm."

"She's one brave lady," Nigel comments, nodding his head. "And not just because she rides around the city on that monster of a machine."

"It was quite the surprise to see her remove her helmet," Miranda replies with a wry smile. "She risked her life for me, Nigel. Why would she do that?"

The question is rhetorical, but he answers her anyway, his voice guarded. "I think that's something you should ask Andrea."

Her eyes flick up in surprise. There is something about his expression that speaks volumes. He knows something. Something about Andrea and her actions, but the man is loyal to a fault and he won't divulge the unconscious woman's secrets.

"Hmmm." Miranda shifts in her chair to face him, a question rolling off her tongue before she can stop herself. "You've kept in contact?"

"We have. Andrea's daughter is best friends with my cat," he confides with a grin. "They are inseparable."

"She has a daughter?" Miranda asks sharply, her tone betraying the piercing pang of disappointment in her stomach. Slithery fingers of ice wrap around her insides, squeezing unpleasantly when the thought of Andrea with someone else floods her mind.

"Anabella," Nigel informs her, his eyes warm and full of love as he turns to look at Andrea briefly. His gaze hardens slightly when he faces Miranda again. "It's been five years, Miranda. A lot has changed since Paris."

Miranda doesn't answer. It's not like she expected everything to be the same, but to hear that Andrea has moved on and found happiness with someone else hurts more than she cares to admit.

"Anabella is adopted," Nigel confesses softly, and the ice in her stomach begins to thaw as he continues. "Her sister had a car crash four years ago, and although they managed to save the baby she was carrying, Andy lost her sister. She became a mother that day, and it suits her."

"I would imagine it does." Children have a way of changing people in the most significant ways. That much was certainly true for Miranda when her girls were born. She glances at Andrea's left hand, confirming to herself that she is not wearing a ring, but that doesn't necessarily mean she's a single mother.

"I know what you're not asking," Nigel tells her slyly, a smirk appearing on his worn face.

"I do not have the slightest idea what you are talking about," Miranda lies, feeling heat creeping to her cheeks.

"She's not with anyone, you know," he drops in casually, and it's only because of the many years spent perfecting her mask, that she is able to keep her face neutral.

"I'm not sure why you think that would matter to me, Nigel."

He snorts, and she turns to glare at him. "What?"

"It was no secret back then how you two felt about each other. You can deny it all you want, Miranda, but I've known you a long time now."

He has, it's true. And for all her denial, Miranda is tired. Tired of keeping her secrets close to her chest after years of protecting herself. She reaches out to take Andrea's hand, her thumb running smoothly over the ridges of her knuckles, the warmth reassuring against her palm.

"I knew how she felt about me, Nigel. Andrea always wore her heart on her sleeve. It was impossible not to know."

"Then I really don't understand. Why did she leave? It's the one thing she has always refused to talk about."

It's a relief to finally speak the words, and they spill from her unedited. "I pushed her away. I thought she deserved so much more than what I could offer her at the time. I wanted her to go and live her life. I wanted her to discover who she was and find out for herself just how valuable she really is."

There's a pause while her words sink in, before Nigel exhales loudly, remarking, "You must have been awful to her, for her to actually walk away. Six is one of the most tolerant and patient people I've ever known."

"She is," Miranda agrees, sighing. "But I am highly skilled at knowing exactly how to hurt someone. I find their flaws and then use it against them. It was far too easy, actually, and I've hated myself for it every day that has passed since."

"There is still time. She never stopped-"

They are interrupted by a groan coming from the bed, dark eyes flickering open, blinking against the bright light above the bed. Miranda swings the overhead lamp to one side, smiling down at the woman even as she withdraws her hand from Andrea's.

"How are you feeling?"

Warm brown eyes glow with an affection that has been missing from Miranda's life for far too long, Andrea's lips curling into a smile.

"You're still here."

"Of course," Miranda replies, turning towards Nigel when he clears his throat.

"I'm just going to-" he jerks his thumb towards the door. "Good to see you awake, Six. I'll be back in a moment."

He slips out of the door, and the silence in the small room becomes weighted, the rhythmic beeping of a machine the only thing that interrupts the quiet.

"How are you feeling, Andrea?" Miranda repeats, eyes roaming her face to check for further injury.

"Like I got shot," Andrea quips, grinning. "But I'm alright. Sore, I guess. Stephen?"

"In custody. There are surveillance cameras outside the building that captured everything that happened. He is going to be lamenting his lack of freedom for a long time to come, I suspect."

"Good," Andrea replies, nodding. She immediately winces, hand reaching up to the bandages wrapped around her skull. "I hurt my head?"

"In the scuffle," Miranda confirms. "Just before he shot you."

"And then I knocked him out?" Andrea asks, her brow wrinkling.

"Yes. I wouldn't be surprised if your elbow is bruised for a while," Miranda warns with a small smile. "You could have a future as a UFC fighter if you so choose."

"I couldn't let him hurt you," Andrea mumbles. "When I saw you… I just… I panicked, Miranda. I would have done anything to protect you."

"And I am so grateful, Andrea. You… I can't begin to… My daughters nearly lost their mother last night, and I can never thank you enough for that."

"I would do it all again."

"Well, thank you, Andrea. You can be assured that I will cover all your hospital bills. It's the least I can do."

The expression sent her way is fierce. "I don't need your money, Miranda. I'm perfectly capable of paying my own bills."

"But you shouldn't have to," Miranda counters gently. "You wouldn't be here if not for me, and the cost of surgery is ridiculous these days."

"I'm not the same girl you used to know, Miranda. I have a career that I love and supports me well. Please don't insult me by suggesting that I am anything less than your equal."

Miranda bites her tongue, not wishing to anger the woman any further. Instead, she allows one final truth to slip from her lips before she can stop herself. "You were always my equal in the ways that it mattered."

Sleepy eyes blink up at her, confusion wrinkling Andrea's brow. "But then why did you…? You sent me away, Miranda. You might not have said those exact words, but we both know that was your intention."

"I did," Miranda agrees, reaching out to take the pale hand in front of her. "And that is something that we can talk about once you are fit and well again. You need to rest, Darling." Rest, and physiotherapy and quite possibly more surgery, Miranda adds on in her head. She's heard the words 'nerve damage' and 'limited mobility' thrown around far too often for comfort by the doctors. It's clear that Andrea has a long journey of recovery ahead of her, and Miranda is determined to be there every single step of the way.

Andrea doesn't reply and it's easy to see how exhausted she is just from the few words that have been exchanged. Her eyes flutter closed, and Miranda squeezes her hand gently.

"Sleep now. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Okay," comes the drowsy reply as Andrea settles back into the pillows. Miranda prepares herself for a long day watching over the woman she has missed for all these years, never once letting go of her hand.

-xXx-

"Are you sure about this?" Andrea asks doubtfully, as Roy pulls up in front of the townhouse.

"It's settled, Andrea. You will stay here until you are recovered. We have plenty of room and the girls are excited to see you again."

"But I have my own place. I have friends I can call."

"Nigel is already inside with Anabella and by all accounts she is very excited to have an entire townhouse to explore," Miranda says with a soft smile. "She's an absolute delight and you are both very welcome in our home."

"Okay," Andrea concedes reluctantly, allowing Roy to help her from the car. "It's good to see you again, Roy."

"You too, Andy," he replies genuinely, a fondness in his eyes that Miranda has become accustomed to seeing when people talk to Andrea. "I'm sure I'll be seeing more of you soon," he adds, with a wink in Miranda's direction.

"Come along," Miranda instructs, ignoring the heat that has spread to her cheeks. If she's lucky, she can pass it off as being from the cold wind. Nothing fools Roy, though, and he grins knowingly. Unable to resist, she rolls her eyes at him, allowing herself to send a small grin of her own back at him.

Miranda opens the door to the townhouse, nearly toppling over when a small body collides with hers. She smiles down at the child who looks so much like she imagines Andrea would have at this age. "How are you today, Anabella?"

"Did you know you have a basketball court?" she asks, wide eyed, until she spots Andrea behind Miranda, and immediately rushes towards her mother.

"Be gentle with your mother," Miranda warns, before adding with no little amusement, "And yes, I did know. Have you been playing with the girls?"

Anabella nods. "Yup!"

"I missed you, Sweetie." Andrea wraps her good arm around her daughter, the other one encased in a sling. "Have you been good?"

"Uh huh." Anabella nods vigorously. "Miranda told me I have been really, really good!"

"Is that so?" Andrea asks, lips curling into a smile that makes Miranda's heart flutter for a moment.

"She has been excellent company at the hospital and the girls already adore her."

"Six, it's good to see you on your feet," Nigel greets her, walking down the stairs with his arms splayed wide. It's difficult to swallow down the jealousy Miranda feels at the ease between the two friends. She's spent a lot of time with Andrea and her daughter over the last few days, but every conversation has been weighted, heavy with the words that neither of them are ready to say.

"Thanks for everything, Nigel," Andrea replies, allowing herself to be pulled into a careful hug. "You've been amazing and I'm so grateful. You too, Miranda," she says, releasing Nigel and turning on the spot to take Miranda's hand.

"You're welcome," Miranda replies, heart thudding wildly at the innocent contact. "Now, shall we get you settled? Let's go up to the living room."

Miranda gestures for the others to lead the way, needing a few moments for herself. It feels significant to have Andrea here in her home after all this time and she has no idea how to act. They've not really addressed the elephant in the room, despite touching on it that first day in the hospital and she knows that Andrea will want answers. She owes the woman that much at the very least, but what then?

The last five years have been long and lonely, and whilst Miranda had almost given up hope that she would ever end up with Andrea, the thought of being with someone else felt far too much like a betrayal. The idea of allowing anyone to touch her was distasteful at best and horrifying at worst.

Resigning herself to the conversations that are sure to come, Miranda slowly climbs the staircase, trying to ignore the slight tremble in her hand as she steadies herself on the rail.

"You've redecorated," Andrea calls across the room as Miranda makes an appearance at the top of the stairs. "I like it. It's much more… well, warmer?"

Seeing Andrea curled up in what is Miranda's usual place on the sofa at the far end makes her heart ache. How many times has she been sitting in this room, imagining just this? The only difference is that in her daydreams, she is sitting next to the woman.

"It was in dire need of a change after… after Stephen moved out. The girls helped choose the colour scheme."

"It's beautiful," Andrea replies, appreciative eyes taking in every detail of the room before settling back on Miranda. The way her gaze deliberately moves all the way down Miranda's body and then slowly back up gives an unspoken message that is impossible to miss. No matter what happens between them next, Miranda is gratified to know that Andrea still finds her beautiful.

"Can we eat now?" Anabella asks, dancing across the room and skidding to a halt in front of Miranda. She bounces on her toes, and Miranda reaches down with a smile and bops her on the nose.

"Of course we can. Can you go and get the girls for me?"

Anabella gives her a wonky salute that has her smiling even more as she watches the young girl run up the stairs that lead to the girls' room above. "She's adorable, Andrea, and she looks so much like you."

"Jill and I were twins." Andrea smiles weakly and it's easy to see that even after all these years, the pain is still extremely fresh. Their eyes meet, and Miranda offers what she hopes is a sympathetic smile, something that she feels out of practice doing, but it appears to do the trick. There is a moment of unspoken empathy that passes between them, an understanding born of shared experiences. It's no secret to anyone that Miranda lost her twin sister when she was younger too.

Nigel gets up from the armchair, and walks over to kiss Andrea on the cheek. "It's good to see you settled, Six, but I'll take my leave now. I'll be back in a few days once you've rested some more."

"Thanks, Nigel. See you soon."

To her surprise, Nigel kisses Miranda on the cheek too, whispering as he leans in close. "Don't let fear hold you back, and be honest with her. You both deserve to be happy."

"Thank you," Miranda murmurs, before he darts off down the stairs two at a time.

"So…" Andrea starts, before trailing off, a frown on her face.

"Why don't we eat?" Miranda suggests. "I know there are things that we should talk about, but the girls are hungry, and Cara has prepared a veritable feast ready for your arrival."

"You seem to have been pretty confident I would say yes to staying here," Andrea remarks, one eyebrow raised.

"Hopeful," Miranda corrects, walking over to hold out a hand. "And I think your daughter has decided she wants to live here," she informs Andrea with a grin.

"Well, who am I to deny her? Have you seen that face? It's impossible to say no to," Andrea says with a laugh.

Nodding, she agrees. "I've experienced Anabella's superpowers over the last few days. Come along, Andrea. Food awaits, as do our daughters."

Miranda isn't sure, but thinks there might have been a quiet echo of 'our daughters' under Andrea's breath, and hope flares in her chest again as she wonders if Andrea likes the sound of that as much as she does.

Andrea allows Miranda to help her up, and neither of them drop each other's hand as they climb the staircase to the upper kitchen, where the girls are waiting for them around the table.

"Caroline, Casssidy," Andrea greets, and Miranda smirks when she sees Andrea crossing her fingers down by her side, the young woman obviously hoping that she has got them the right way around. She hasn't, which is not a surprise after five years, and the girls quickly correct her, laughing as they do so.

"What are you going to do now, Andy?" Caroline asks, still chewing a mouthful of food which she swallows hastily when Miranda gives her a stern look.

"I'm not sure. I think it might be time for a change."

"But you love playing," Cassidy joins in. "Won't you miss it?"

"What do you mean?" Miranda asks, eyes darting between her daughters and Andrea, who calmly gazes back at her.

"You never did ask what I do now," Andrea says with a smile. "I have been playing the violin since I was three-years-old and started posting silly videos of myself on YouTube. Turns out the right people took notice."

"She's really famous, Mom," Cassidy tells her grinning. "She sings too."

"Is that who you have been listening to?" Miranda asks, shaken by the revelation.

Both of her children nod eagerly, but it's Andrea who replies. "My stage name is Speranza."

"Speranza?" Miranda repeats thoughtfully. "Italian?"

"Hope," Andrea translates, offering Miranda a coy smirk that causes her stomach to flip over. "I live on it."

The sentiment behind it is not lost on Miranda, and she loses herself in a brief fantasy of what it might mean for them both, before reality comes crashing down, and stricken eyes find Andrea's again.

"But your arm. What if you can't play again?"

To her surprise, Andrea offers her a genuine smile, looking around the table at each of them. "It's not the end of the world. Life is a canvas, you know?"

"What do you mean, Mom?" Anabella asks, brow wrinkling adorably.

"Well, Sweetie, think of it this way. Purple is your favourite colour, yes?"

"Yes," Anabella confirms whilst Miranda watches on, wondering where this could possibly be going.

"If I painted an entire canvas in purple, it would be nice," Andrea speaks directly to her daughter, but her eyes flick towards Miranda briefly as if the words are to reassure her. "But what if I added some other colours? A splash of blue, a stroke of orange. Wouldn't that be more interesting? We all have a favourite colour, but that doesn't mean that the others aren't just as nice."

"So you mean that even if you can't play, there are still other things you could do?" Caroline asks.

"Yes. Can do, and more importantly, want to do," Andrea answers, nodding. "I never intended to become a musician, and there is so much more that I want to accomplish."

"You're not sad?" Cassidy wonders, and her lips pull down at the corners.

"No, Cassidy. I'm not. I'm not giving up on the dream of playing again, but if I can't, then I will simply spend my time doing all the other things I have missed out on over the last few years."

"You truly are a remarkable woman, Andrea," Miranda can't help but comment, putting down her cutlery to take Andrea's good hand. "And I'm looking forward to getting to know you better."

"Me too. All of you." Andrea smiles warmly around the table, and Miranda realises in that moment that her children are just as entranced with the young woman as she is.

-xXx-

"How are you feeling now? Be honest," Miranda questions seriously, standing in the doorway of Andrea's room.

"Honestly? In pain. I'm looking forward to just laying in bed, even if I don't sleep yet."

"I could… Would you care for some company?"

Patting the sheets next to her, Andrea wordlessly invites Miranda to sit down, and she does. Feeling vulnerable, the words she came here to speak dry up in her throat, and she stares into warm eyes helplessly.

"It's okay, Miranda," Andrea reassures her. "I know we need to talk, but there is a lot I think you want to say that is unnecessary. I wanted to hear you say it. I wanted your excuses for pushing me away, but now? I just want to move on. I think I know why you pushed me away and I'm grateful to you now. "

"Grateful?"

"I didn't know I needed it at the time, but these years spent apart have allowed me to grow up and become a woman that is worthy of you."

"You were always worthy of me," Miranda corrects her. "It is I who had nothing to offer."

"And you should have let me be the judge of that," Andrea chides her gently with a small sigh. "But here we are, and I don't want to waste any more time."

"What are you saying?"

"I think you know, Miranda, but if I need to be the brave one and be the first to speak, then so be it. I had feelings for you when I was your assistant, and all these years later they are the one thing about my life that has never changed." Andrea speaks the words calmly, a quiet confidence to her that was missing when they first knew each other. It's an incredibly attractive quality, and Miranda finds herself flustered by it.

"I don't believe you are alone in your current predicament," Miranda teases with a smile.

"Really? That's all you're going to say?" Andrea demands with a roll of her eyes.

Miranda scoots forwards until she can take Andrea's left hand in her own, running her thumb over the smooth skin there. She looks up into heated eyes. "Andrea, I have been in love with you for five years. I'm sorry for the decisions I made back then, and although I know some of them were necessary, I truly am sorry for any pain that I've caused you."

"And now?" Andrea wonders, lacing their fingers together.

"And now I would like to spend time getting to know the incredible woman that you are today. I don't want to rush anything, but I know without any uncertainty that I want you in my life."

The smile that Andrea sends her way is blinding, the warmth of it radiating in a way that she has only ever known from the woman sitting opposite her. She wasn't lying when she said she didn't want to rush things, but that doesn't stop Miranda leaning forwards with a question in her eyes.

Andrea's eyes flutter closed, her lips parting invitingly, and Miranda takes that as the consent she was looking for, finally connecting their lips. It's soft, both of them wary of Andrea's injuries, but it speaks of promises and a future together that neither had thought possible.

Pulling back slightly, Miranda is gratified to see the flush on Andrea's face, allowing herself a small smirk at the other woman.

"I love you, Andrea."

"I love you too," comes the instant reply, as Andrea cautiously moves across the bed slightly to make room for her. "Stay with me?"

"Always."