anon prompt from tumblr: "Miranda and Andy aren't in a relationship and Andy is still working for her. Andy is pregnant but she doesn't know it, she thinks she's just gaining weight,she starts eating less to compensate. Miranda sees something is wrong and thinks she knows what it is and she talks to Andy, and basically tells Andy she thinks Andy is pregnant and to go to her doctor. Andy gets scared and Miranda comforts her and gets all protective." Enjoy.

Miranda was aware of everything that went on in Runway. Every single thing. Her employees thought her deaf, dumb, and blind about things that didn't happen in her presence, behind closed doors or whispered in bathrooms. But she had her ways and she found out everything, if not immediately, then soon after. What kind of editor-in-chief would she be if she didn't know everything?

Which of course meant that she knew that something was rather wrong with Andrea. It can been going on for weeks now. The girl spent the morning running back and forth from the bathroom while fielding calls from top designers around the globe and helping Miranda's life run more smoothly than it ever had before with more ease than some of her employees had chewing gum and walking at the same time. But even though she knew it was happening, doesn't mean she knew exactly what it meant. Oh, of course she had her suspicions, but there were a great many things that it could be and it wouldn't do to ask about it until she had more evidence.

"About bloody time you got back," Emily snarked in her usual way.

Miranda looked over her glasses out into the outer office. Andrea shrugged and went over to her desk.

"Sorry, the line for the salad bar at the cafeteria was really long." Andrea's voice was quiet, more subdued than normal. She hadn't been quiet as vibrant since Paris and Nigel, but this was different.

"Oh so the smart, fat girl has finally got the message and started eating something other than corn chowder." Miranda could practically hear the eye roll in Emily's voice.

"Yeah, well, I got down to a size four without selling my soul to cheese cubes. It's just that lately no matter what I do I seem to be gaining weight. I'm back into the size six things Nigel gave me at the beginning. So salad bar."

That comment caused Miranda to pause for a moment. Constant trips to the bathroom and weight gain ruled out her suspicion that the girl had some sort of eating disorder or some other health problem. But it certainly pointed towards one eventuality. Miranda went through much the same thing when she was pregnant with the twins.

Miranda sat back, taking off her glasses and placing one of the ear pieces on her lip. It had been two months since Paris. The timing would make sense with the symptoms. That math worked out so it could be the cook boy's child or perhaps the worse eventuality of Christian Thompson's child. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense, to the point where she was almost positive of her conclusion.

She wondered if the girl even knew. She was a smart girl, surely she could put two and two together, but then again she was so young and it might not be her first conclusion. Or it could be denial and Miranda was well aware of how potent denial could be. Or it could just be that she was trying to keep it quiet until she was forced to reveal her secret. She was a young woman and freshly single, there would be those who would frown upon her pregnancy. With the way Runway was run she might even be afraid she would lose her job.

Fierce protectiveness reared its head at that thought. No, she would not let the girl be fired. But first, she needed to know if all of this thinking was on the right path. A good hypothesis meant nothing without data to support it. And so she waited. The girl would be in here soon enough with her lunch and she could speak with her then.

Twenty minutes later Andrea came in carrying the tray with her normal steak from Smith and Wollensky's. She set it on the desk before Miranda and made to exit the room.

"Andrea," she said quietly. "Shut the door and sit." She gestured to the chairs before her desk.

Andrea looked like a deer in the headlights. She had lost a great much of her fear of Miranda, but that didn't mean that out of the blue requests didn't make her wary. Miranda had no illusions of her capriciousness, but her utter changeability worked well in the world of fashion, if not in the world of corporate America, and so she couldn't bring herself to care.

"Yes, Miranda?" The girl asked, sitting down in the chair indicated, right on the edge like she was about to bolt at any second.

"You've been ill rather a lot recently," Miranda led in. How she responded would tell a great deal about if she knew or not. Miranda wasn't always one hundred percent accurate at picking out liars, but she was good enough to land her in current position as head of a fashion empire.

"Uh, yeah, I don't know what's been going on. I'm trying not to let it interfere with my work life though, so I'm sorry if it has, but I'll try better."

Miranda held up her hand to stop the girl. She would babble on until the cows came home and then some if Miranda didn't stop her. She still got glimpses of the nervous girl she had hired months ago when Andrea was on edge enough. She would almost find it endearing if it wasn't at the most inopportune times.

"Andrea, it's not interfering in your work. The office is running as smoothly as it always has, save for Emily's rather pronounced annoyance at your frequent absences, that however is more her problem than yours." She waved off the concerns with a flick of her fingers.

Andrea relaxed slightly, but her shoulders were still tense. "Then, what did you need, Miranda?"

"Have you been to the doctor about the problem, Andrea? Goodness knows I can't have an assistant collapse on me, that would only intensify the rumors that you all spread that I kill off assistants and goodness knows everyone here has enough distraction with gossip as is."

The girl swallowed visibly. "I, uh, haven't really had time to go. Or…" she trailed off, obviously thinking better of her words.

"Or?" Miranda cocked an eyebrow.

"Or the money to go. With, uh, Nate gone I just have enough money to pay the bills and eat. Runway's insurance would cover most of it, of course, but right now I don't really have the twenty bucks or whatever it would cost me. And then I really wouldn't have the money for any meds they would give me. And it's not that bad so I'm just toughing it out. I'll be fine. I won't collapse on you or anything." Andrea's hands fidgeted in her lap, fingers twisting themselves into odd patterns and wringing around each other.

"You really don't know what's wrong?" she tilted her head.

Andrea shook her head.

Miranda stood up. "Come along, Andrea." She walked around her desk, listening to Andrea scramble up behind her to follow her.

She emerged into the outer office and looked at Emily. "Clear the rest of my day. Rearrange what you must to make that happen. That's all."

Emily gaped at her for half a second before setting to work with all the frenetic energy that could be packed into a five seven red head that subsisted on cheese cubes.

Miranda turned back to Andrea. "Come along. Oh, and Emily, call Roy. I want to be picked up by the time the elevator reaches the ground floor."

She couldn't say that her lips didn't quirk at the small distressed noise that made its way out of Emily's mouth. The girl made it far too easy to fluster her, but she always did come through.

Andrea walked with her to the elevator banks, wide eyed, obviously not knowing what in the world was going on. She kept glancing at Miranda out of the side of her eyes. Miranda for her part pretended not to notice.

She pulled her Blackberry from her purse and punched in a number. It started ringing almost immediately. The elevator doors opened and Miranda stepped on, motioning for Andrea to come into the car as well. That caused the girl's frenetic energy to ratchet up another notch. Honestly.

"Hello?" A slightly accented English voice asked.

"Martha, how are you, darling?" she said, putting just a little more effort into her greeting than usual.

"Right in the middle of a full load of patients, Miranda, but I think you already knew that." Martha sounded as amused and she did annoyed. Miranda could work with that.

"And so I did."

"So why don't we cut to the chase. You wouldn't call to chat in the middle of the work day, so what do you want?"

"One of my assistants needs an appointment."

Andrea beside her perked up and looked over at Miranda. Miranda didn't look over, watching her reflection in the shiny metal in front of her instead.

"She dying? Because that's the only reason I could imagine you calling me for an assistant. Your girls, yes, but an assistant?"

"It's a rather…delicate situation and I trust you to handle it well."

Andrea looked even more curious at that. The journalist in her was parsing out the meaning to Miranda's words and she knew there was more to it than just the fact that she herself was broke and couldn't afford a doctor's appointment. There were plenty of free clinics around the city if that was all.

Martha sighed. "Alright, alright, get her here as soon as possible. But you so totally owe me dinner sometime soon for this."

"I believe that's a fair trade. We'll be there as soon as possible." With that Miranda hung up and slipped her phone back into her purse and stepped out of the elevator just as the doors were opening.

She strutted through the entryway of Elias-Clarke, the sight of people clearing the way before her cheering her as usual. Andrea hurried to keep up with her pace, too busy concentrating on not falling at such speeds to question Miranda.

But then they were out in the cold December day and Roy was already there as promised. Oh, Emily was good, but Miranda would never tell her that. Roy opened the door for her and she slipped in, relishing the heat even after the relatively short trek in the cold. The next second Andrea was beside her and they were off.

Andrea turned to her. "Miranda did you just call in a favor for me?" Her brow was scrunched, confused. Confused enough that she had broken one of Emily's rather ridiculous rules about asking her questions. My, she had rattled the girl.

"In a way, I suppose. Martha is a friend, a real one, not like the great many of the 'friends' of mine that you've met." Once upon a time before La Priestly had been a thing, Miranda had shared an apartment with Martha while she had been doing her residency and Miranda herself had been climbing the ladder at Runway. They had absolutely nothing in common, but somehow had become rather good friends. Miranda had stopped questioning it long ago.

"All that she asked was for dinner in return for the rush appointment and it isn't like we don't meet for at least one meal a month, so it really depends on your idea of a favor, Andrea."

Andrea's face just got more confused as she processed the information. "Ok," she drew out the sound. "But then why did you say it was a delicate situation?"

Miranda looked the girl over. She wondered if it was better for Martha to break the news to her, or to just get the idea out in the open now. After all, Miranda herself could be wrong, but when Martha told Andrea the news she wouldn't be wrong. The girl could have some time to deny the idea, time to get used to it, before her bubble was popped. Though would that be better or worse?

"Andrea, have you ever considered that you could be pregnant?" Better just to dive in with it, she supposed.

Andrea sat back like Miranda had punched her. "Um, no, that's not possible."

"Is it really? Two months ago you were in Paris having an unadvised fling with Christian Thompson. Before that you were involved with your cook. You're telling me that it's not possible at all?"

Andrea's mouth flapped like a fish. Honestly, it was like the girl had forgotten that she knew just how she'd come by the information of Irv's plot to overthrow her. Or perhaps it was that Miranda was speaking rather frankly about her sex life. She didn't know which was worse. Both implied a level of stupidity that she knew the girl didn't have. Of course she knew exactly what happened between those in a relationship, she had two twin daughters to prove it.

She just arched her eyebrow and waited for Andrea to reply instead of voicing her scathing comments, however.

"Uh, um, I guess it's possible, but I mean, we always used condoms, Nate and I. And with Christian I wasn't going anywhere near him unless he had a condom on. God even knew where he'd been."

Miranda snorted at that. God probably didn't even know all the places that boy had been.

"And you're telling me that condoms never fail."

"No, but I mean, I just…" Andrea blushed bright red and fell silent. "Miranda, I can't be pregnant. Not in the, there's no possibility way, but in the I can't have a kid way. I'm barely making it. I have nothing to offer a child right now," Andrea finally said after a long silence.

Miranda knew that feeling, the not having anything to offer a child. What they hadn't been able to offer at the time was different. Miranda had no time to offer a child. She was always on the go, always on the move, heading up Runway and whipping it into shape after taking over. She wasn't sure she would be able to offer love either. Her mother had been so very lacking in love. She'd had no example and she'd worried and worried every single night of her pregnancy over that fact, but still she never even harbored the thought of getting rid of them.

"I mean, I would like to be a mom one day, don't get me wrong, but not right now. I have no financial stability, no partner, which I mean isn't necessary, but it would help, you know? And I don't have any family here to help and make up for all the things I don't have. I don't even have friends anymore. They left with Nate. They blamed me for the split. And I'm sad they left I'm kind of glad because they all wanted me to stay the same, but never changing wasn't why I came to the city. But this is too much change too soon. I wanted to be an established journalist before all this happened. And I know it's still possible to do, but…" Andrea took a deep, shuddering breath.

Miranda could take no more. She reached out and grabbed Andrea's hand. "Andrea. I may not exactly be your friend, quite the opposite, really, but I will be here for you through this, whatever you decide to do. I have faith that you will make the right choice for yourself. After all, you're one of the best assistants I've ever had and the only one I've ever said as much to. If that doesn't tell you how intelligent and level headed you are, I don't know what will."

Andrea looked at her, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Why?"

The corners of Miranda's mouth turned up. "I told you in Paris that your remind me a great deal of myself. You didn't react favorably to the comparison for good reason after what I did to Nigel. I maintain that you are much like me, however, there are a good many ways you differ from me, one of which is your unfailing kindness. Consider this a way to protect you from becoming wholly like me."

Andrea's head titled to the side slowly. She blinked back the tears and looked at Miranda with clear brown eyes. Miranda's heart stuttered a little at the sight and she wondered what all that was about, but waved the thoughts away. Those could be dealt with later.

"You're not bad, Miranda. Sure, you have flaws, we all do, but people could do a lot worse than becoming just like you."

That brought a true smile to Miranda's face. "Oh, I'm sure. I'm not bad, but I'm not good or nice either. I'm just right to play the witch in everyone's stories that they go home and tell their friends and family."

"But they don't have the whole story. Not when you do stuff like this."

Miranda smiled. "No one has the whole story, Andrea, except for me." The car pulled up outside of the office building where Martha had her offices. "Come along, Andrea, you can figure out what you choose later, for now confirmation of the problem might be more important."

She stepped outside the car and strode to the entrance, Andrea once more on her heels.