Andy woke up and stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling. The bed didn't feel like hers either-and there was an unfamiliar arm around her waist. She pushed a long tress of hair from her eyes, and as she moved, she heard a strange sound,something that she only now realized had woken her up.
Turning her head, she saw Miranda's face, and her pained expression betrayed that whatever she was dreaming wasn't pleasant.
Last night's events came back to Andy, and she wondered if it was their long day together, that had stirred bad dreams for Miranda. She was squirming and pushing with her hand at something—or someone—and yet another moan, followed by a whimper, escaped her vocal cords.
"Miranda," Andy whispered. "You're dreaming."
This didn't wake Miranda who now kicked so hard that she pushed the bedcovers off both of them. Andy had forgotten that they were both just wearing tank tops, and didn't want to potentially shock Miranda by waking her half-naked. She tugged the cover back and wrapped it around Miranda.
"You're dreaming. It's just a dream. Wake up, Miranda. You're okay." Andy tried keeping her voice calm.
It turned out nearly impossible to hold onto Miranda as Andy's proximity appeared to make things worse.
"N-no…" Miranda covered her face with both hands and curled up in a fetal position. "Stop." She was shaking even worse now. "Stop!"
What kind of torment was going on in Miranda's nightmare? Andy realized that being soft and careful wouldn't cut it. There was no way she could just let Miranda be and remain tormented in this way. She was shaking and sweating and showing signs of distress.
Andy sat up and rolled Miranda onto her back. "That's it, Miranda. Wake up." She made her voice firmer and took a steady grip on Miranda's shoulders, shaking her gently. "Come on, Miranda. You're just dreaming!"
Miranda went rigid and Andy let go of her shoulders. Was she waking up?
"Stop. I can't breathe. I can't..." Miranda's words were surprisingly clear, but Andy could tell that she was still in the claws of her nightmare.
"I'm here, Miranda. It's Andy—Andrea. Wake up, please." Resolutely, Andy pulled Miranda to her, holding her in her arms, despite Miranda going all rigid.
"Andrea?" Suddenly sounding awake and speaking with a drowsy, husky voice, Miranda wrapped an arm around Andy's neck. She tipped her head back and peered up at Andy, but then it was as if she remembered whatever horror she had just lived through. Her eyes narrowed and she looked around the room. "Andrea?" Now she sounded pissed.
"You were dreaming. A nightmare. I had to wake you," Andy said calmly. "You're okay. If you'd rather I wasn't holding you, that's fine too. I know how strange I can feel after a bad dream."
"No. Don't let go." Miranda clung to her. "Damn. It's a recurring dream that I've had for years. I suppose part of my mind hasn't quite caught up on you being back in my life." Miranda pressed her forehead against Andy's shoulder.
"Do you want to share what the dream's about?" Andy asked, though she confessed she wasn't sure if she wanted to know. Miranda seemed truly rattled. Perhaps it would be good for her to share.
Miranda lay still and kept her face hidden against Andy. After a while she sat up, and tugged her part of the covers around her, hugging her pulled-up knees. "Paris," she said darkly. "I'm sure you agree, there's a lot to have nightmares about."
Andy clenched her hands under the covers. "Yes."
"I'm not sure that a heart-to-heart will solve anything. What was said and done back then—it can't be changed." Miranda's lips were pale and tensed.
"That's true," Andy said carefully, "but maybe it can be understood? Forgiven? Or, agreed to disagree?" She shrugged. "I know from experience that shoving things under the rug doesn't do anyone any good. Sooner or later, you need to bring out the vacuum."
Miranda blinked. "Vacuum? What are you talking about?" She sounded exasperated, but Andy forged on.
"You know how the saying goes about sweeping things under the rug…"
"I'm sure I don't." Miranda pinched her lips.
Andy winced. "What I'm trying to say, and I admit that I have tendencies to be cryptic sometimes, is we need to be open and honest with each other if we're going to not end up in the same situation as in Paris." She wanted to take Miranda's hand in hers, but she had hidden them under the covers.
"So, you subscribe to the theory that as soon as you talk about something, it magically makes everything all right?" The tension in Miranda's face expanded to the muscles around her eyes. "That is simplifying it, don't you agree?"
"I don't know anybody who says that. Talking about something is a start of finding a way to heal, and make things, if not all right, then as good as it gets." Andy told herself to be patient. Perhaps Miranda needed to work through her reasoning to find out what she wanted to do. "Miranda. If you want to talk some other time, or not at all, I respect that. I do. It's just, I'm the type of person who needs to communicate and be open about how I feel and know how the other person feels. I need that to feel safe."
"I see." Miranda studied Andy in silence for a few moments. "And you think hearing about my recurring dream might help you—even if it is deeply painful?"
"What if talking about it takes the edge of the pain? If you put words on it." Andy cringed. "Or perhaps you have talked to someone about it already? Like your therapist—or a friend?"
"I have many acquaintances, but very few friends. I'm not in the habit of discussing my nightmares with them." Miranda's precise wording showed how standoffish she felt, and how she tried to keep it together. "I tried talking to a therapist with a highly limited success."
Andy nodded slowly. "Listen. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. I'm truly not prying. I just wish I could do something for you, to keep the nightmare away." She realized that her words were similar to the ones she'd said to Miranda when she came into her suite in Paris and found her trying to keep her composure when her life exploded around her.
"You're here." Miranda leaned her chin against her hands, on top of her bent legs. "That's enough."
"All right." Andy dared to push Miranda's bangs out of her face. "The fact that you want me here with you means the world to me. I never thought it would happen, and that was my nightmare, but I usually had to deal with that sobering thought during the days."
"How so?" Miranda raised her head, and her eyes narrowed further.
"It's hard to avoid you in the publishing or news business in New York. Yes, I did my best to avoid the blocks around Runway, but unless I moved to a deserted island, it would be impossible to keep your name and face out of my life. At least you didn't have that problem to deal with."
"In a way I did." Miranda's voice sank half an octave.
"What do you mean?" Andy didn't understand. She was not famous or mentioned in tabloids, or headlines, or visible on TV often. Miranda shouldn't have had any problem staying away from anything regarding Andy Sachs.
"You didn't want to be reminded of me. Neither did I, some days." Miranda's eyes burned like blue flames. "And yet, I saw myself in mirrors every day. And I saw the judging of a lot of people when I returned to work after getting home from Paris. Nigel is popular and has a lot of friends at Runway, while I…well, I'm me. The Dragon Lady, the Snow Queen, the Devil in Prada. They all sided with Nigel, and rightfully so, of course. As it turned out, it was Nigel who reminded everyone that they all got to keep their jobs because I sacrificed him in the power play. It didn't magically make me elected to homecoming queen, but at least they stopped plotting my demise every time I stepped out of the elevator."
"How long did that go on?" Andy's heart skipped several beats at the tired look on Miranda's face.
"Perhaps nine, ten months. It's something of a blur. I worked myself to a pulp to show the board of directors that I deserved to remain editor-in-chief. I came home late and went into the office before everyone else. I had nothing else."
"But what about the girls?" Confused, Andrea tried to piece together this information she already had about the four years they hadn't seen each other.
"When I came home, I was in bad shape. James was still not together with Hannah, but he was still a better option for the girls at that point. They stayed with him for four months."
"But you saw them, right?" Her heart broke off in small chips at the edges, Andy pressed a hand to her chest. How devastating this must've been for Miranda.
"Yes, of course. It was the reverse situation. I had them every other weekend. They weren't too pleased with the situation, but for once, James stepped up and explained it to them in an age-appropriate way." Miranda wiped at her eyelashes.
Andy wanted to take Miranda in her arms but didn't think it was the right moment for that—not yet. "Miranda," she whispered.
"I found my strength after four months and when I knew I was ready for them, they came home, and about two years later, Hannah turned out to be the love of James's life, and he found his stride. The girls rarely talk about the time when I wasn't doing so well, but there was one time, about a year ago, when Caroline asked me if I ever thought about you."
Andy gaped. "Just like that? Out of the blue?"
"Yes. I wasn't sure what to tell her. I didn't want to lie, but I didn't want her to read too much into it either."
"So, what did you say?" Andy asked softly, not wanting to jar Miranda.
"I said that I did. That was all. She didn't ask anything else, but in retrospect, that can be part of why she was adamant about inviting you to the gala when she ran into you. She's quite sensitive."
"She always was." Andy smiled wanly. "And now, after four years, how are things with you and Nigel?"
"I made it up to him. I recommended him for his current job and he's happy, at least professionally. He went through his own heartache about a year ago. I was worried about him then, but he's doing better."
"When we get back to New York, would it be odd for you if I reach out to Nigel? Of all the people at Runway, he became a friend. I shouldn't have ghosted him." Andy rubbed her cheeks.
"I'm sure he'd love to hear from you." Miranda sighed and then extended a hand to Andy, who took it quickly and squeezed it. "I think I had this nightmare because a lot has happened this last week—God, it's only been a week—and it's stirred a lot of thoughts. It must be the same for you."
"Yeah." Andy kissed the back of Miranda's hand gently.
"My nightmares don't always entail the same scenario, but the feeling it leaves me with is the same. The one you woke me from…" Miranda hesitated, following the pattern on the bedcovers with a finger of her free hand. Andy hardly dared breathe. "I was just stepping out of the car, and I was surrounded by press and paparazzi. No matter how I tried to find you, they were pushing at me, shoving at me, until I fell. Some of them were chanting some of what you said to me in the car. 'I could never be like you. I wouldn't want to. The thought disgusts me. I could never be with someone who did what you just did. You can clearly sacrifice even one of your best friends who has given you his all for eighteen years. That tells me that you could easily do the same to me if it fit your agenda.' I was being trampled, but the worst was how they kept saying your words—over and over." Miranda's voice was hollow.
Andy gasped as those were her words, verbatim. She too had heard them echo in her mind many times over the years. "I was hurt," she whispered "Devastated, and not just about Nigel. A lot more had happened. You know that."
"As was I. I was hemorrhaging emotionally, and I can't remember what I said in the car that set you off. Of course, I take full responsibility. I was the one ultimately at fault, I always knew that, but that didn't mean that I wasn't wounded." Miranda looked at their joined hands. "You must wish you hadn't asked about my nightmare."
"No," Andy said, and she could hear the tears in her voice. Following the movement of Miranda's restless hand with her eyes as she couldn't look at Miranda, she tried to explain. "I asked, and I stand by that. We both already knew we hurt each other and that there's shared blame in that—but I would never want you to have nightmares about anything I said or did." Andy wiped her eyes with the bedsheet. "I haven't spent time with you, or come on this trip with you, to even some score in a messed up way. I'm here because I want to be. In theory, we always have a choice, but tell that to my heart, eh?" Andy dared to finally meet Miranda's gaze. Where Miranda's eyes had been narrowed and dark, they now looked at her with something resembling astonishment. "Yes?" Andy laced their fingers together.
"You're prepared to work through, or look past, what happened?" Miranda whispered.
"Yes. Both. I'm prepared to do the work, but perhaps not all of it in one night." Andy tried to smile, but her lips trembled too much.
"I still think I shouldn't have thrown your words back in your face." It was Miranda's turn to kiss Andy's hand. "I don't know why I did."
"Was that what you did though?" Andy tilted her head and now she managed a faint smile. "I did ask about your nightmare. If I can't accept the answers to my questions, I shouldn't be here with you. You didn't quote me to hurt me." Andy hoped her deduction was correct, or she could have misread the entire situation.
"Of course I didn't!" Miranda moved so fast, that Andy gave a muted yelp. Pressing Andy back against the pillows, Miranda buried her face in her neck where she lay on top of her. "I'd give anything to never have hurt you at all. I would travel back in time, to the hotel suite and stop myself from asking you to return to your room. That's when it started. After three nights, I sent you on your way, and even if I thought I had to, to prepare for my betrayal…a lot would have been different the last four years if I hadn't."
Andy wrapped her arms around Miranda and rocked her gently. "There are no do-overs or time machines. As you said, we can't change the past. We can learn though. I admit my split-second gut reaction when you quoted me before, was to hide from the hurt in your voice. I didn't want to be the cause of it. All I had to do was back up just one step in my mind and ask myself 'why.' Why I felt that way. It was pretty easy. As I said—I'm here because you're worth fighting for, Miranda Priestly."
"Thank God, Andrea." Miranda was half on top of Andy, and their legs were tangled.
Remembering that both of them were naked below the waist, Andy tried to disregard the heat from Miranda's skin. "You feel so good in my arms," she said, nuzzling Miranda's hair. "And you smell great of that bubble bath you almost shared with half of the hotel."
Miranda flinched but then gave a muted chuckle. "Trust you to not let me forget that."
"It was a moment to remember." Andy was so relieved to hear the desolation seep from Miranda's voice, she had to smile too. "And then the foot massage. That is a first for me. I mean, that a massage leads to mutual masturbation."
"Andrea!" Lifting her head, Miranda glared at her. "You're very blunt."
"I am. It's one of my most endearing qualities." Something was settling inside Andy's stomach that had been dislodged ever since she woke up Miranda. She could tell that Miranda was finding her equilibrium as well. Perhaps they'd gone through enough, what did Miranda call it, heart to heart, for tonight. She cast a glance at the alarm clock by the bed. "It's only 3.35. What do you say we try to get some more sleep? Unless you have other suggestions." Andy wiggled her eyebrows.
"Oh, you." Miranda rolled them on their sides. "Considering that we're both half naked, I could probably be persuaded to get into all kinds of fun trouble with you, but I fear it'll be a long day tomorrow." She eyed Andy carefully.
"I see. Is this when I offer you a rain check?" Andy tugged the cover-up further and moved a pillow in between her shoulder and Miranda's head. She wasn't about to let Miranda put distance between them, even as they slept. If Miranda was plagued by yet another nightmare, she wanted to know.
"What? Andrea, you're killing me." Miranda pushed her hand in under Andrea's tank top and spread her fingers as she held her close with her hand against her back. "You might share with me what such a raincheck could entail, perhaps?" The last words came out as a purr. Miranda was recuperating.
Andy arched against Miranda, as her hand made shivers run down her back. "I think I would offer a complete body massage. That's a cool raincheck, don't you think?"
"Hm. It is." Miranda swallowed audibly. "What's in such a scenario for you?" she asked weakly.
"Are you kidding? I would get my hands all over your body and still be able to pretend we were taking things slow." Andy cleared her throat. "If I found parts of you in need of extra attention, I would of course have to remedy that."
"As I said. Killing. Me." Miranda pressed her lips against Andy's collarbone. "If it is at all possible after that imagery, I think we should sleep."
"Oh, sure." Andy closed her eyes, suddenly aware of how exhausted she was. "Just to make sure, though, we're okay, aren't we?"
Miranda moved her fingertips up and down Andy's back. "Unless I'm delusional, we just took yet another step toward being even more okay than before the nightmare. Because of you." She nuzzled Andy's shoulder. "Now, sleep, Andrea."
Andy smiled and allowed herself to melt into the mattress. "If you insist, Miranda."
Continued in part 13.