=== Part Four ===

After dinner that evening, Miranda took her pain medication plus an extra pill, then went to bed early. She told Andrea that she had an exhausting day, and the young woman didn't question her.

At some point in the middle of the night, Andrea woke to Miranda's screams on the monitor. She rushed downstairs and tried to wake the woman, turning the bedside light as well.

"Miranda, it's just a dream," she said as she shook the woman's shoulder. "Wake up, it's okay."

The editor turned onto her back, but continued tossing her head side to side. "No, no. No!" she shouted, her eyes tightly closed.

Andrea firmly grasped her hand and cupped her cheek. "Hey…hey, wake up."

Slowly, Miranda responded and her eyes opened. "Andrea," she gasped, reaching up and touching her cheek. She closed her eyes and turned away as she struggled to catch her breath.

Andrea sat on the edge of the bed and softly rubbed her back, trying to calm and comfort her much like a mother would a child. After a few minutes, Miranda sat up and fluffed the pillows before leaning against the headboard.

"Bad dream?" Andrea asked.

"Horrible."

"The accident?"

"Mm-hm."

"Want to talk ab—"

"No." she responded quickly.

"Can I get you a glass of water?"

Miranda shook her head. "My heart is still racing."

"Want me to sit here a while with you?"

Miranda looked up sheepishly and nodded.

Andrea smiled and walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed up. She rearranged the pillows and laid back against the headboard next to the other woman.

Miranda looked over at the woman, wearing a ribbed cotton tank and boxer shorts. "Aren't you cold?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, kind of."

"Warmer under the covers than on top, you know."

"Oh, right," she said, scooting over and slipping under the warm comforter after having been invited.

"Better?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Not really."

"Wanna talk?"

"No. Stop asking."

"You know, I remember when I was a little gi—"

"Stop talking!" After a few seconds of silence, she whispered, "I'm sorry. Will you just stay here with me until I fall asleep?"

"Of course," Andrea said. She wondered what kind of nightmare about the accident could have terrified the woman in such a way.

The next morning, Miranda woke and gasped before she realized it was Andrea sleeping next to her. The young brunette opened her eyes and had a similar reaction, quickly crawling out of bed.

"I'm so sorry, Miranda, I didn't mean to fall asleep—"

"It's okay. I was just surprised to find—it's really been a while since anyone has shared this bed," she said, turning away to hide the slight blush.

"Let me help you to the bathroom, then I'll put some coffee on and run upstairs to get some clothes on," she said.

Later that night, after dinner, and after watching a movie, Andrea helped Miranda to get ready for bed. She wanted to take a shower, so Andrea helped her slip the plastic sleeve over her cast while Miranda taped it closed at the top of her thigh. While she didn't need help in the shower, Andrea felt it necessary to remain outside the bathroom just in case she were to slip or need assistance.

Once Miranda was safely out of the shower and she heard the hair dryer on, Andrea ran upstairs to take her own shower. It wasn't a hair wash day, so she was in and out, and back downstairs in her cotton jersey pajama pants and a clean ribbed tank before Miranda knew she was gone.

By the time the editor finally emerged from the bathroom, Andrea had fallen asleep on the stairs.

"Andrea," she whispered, "go to bed."

The young woman jumped up to help Miranda, but she had to admit, the woman's crutch-hobbling skills had significantly improved over the past week. Still, Andrea followed her, helped her into bed, and turned out the light.

"You should probably just stay in here," Miranda said. She was grateful for the cover of darkness, otherwise the young woman would have seen the rising blush in her cheeks.

"Really?"

"Yes. I might have another nightmare, you know."

Andrea grinned. "Okay, so I can just grab a blanket for the chaise here—"

"Oh, uh, whatever you prefer. It's probably more comfortable up here, though."

"Sure, let me just turn out the lights and set the alarm," she said. She returned in a few minutes and crawled into the other side of the bed, a good distance from Miranda—not nearly as close as she was the previous night.

"Andrea? Are you awake?" Miranda asked. She had been staring at the ceiling for nearly thirty minutes.

"Not really, do you need something?"

"What did you talk to me about when I was in the coma for three whole days?"

"Well it's not like I was there the whole time," she said.

Miranda sighed. "Fine, so you were there for eight hours each day, a total of twenty-four hours. What on earth did you have to say to me?"

"I don't know. I just talked," she said. She was feeling a little uncomfortable with this line of questioning.

"About what? Give me an example."

"Why now, all of a sudden? It's past midnight. I was almost asleep."

"I was just thinking how terribly rude it was of me to not respond," Miranda said.

"Are you serious?"

"Perfectly."

"You were unresponsive, Miranda. I knew you wouldn't respond."

"But what if I did—or I could? What kinds of things did you say that unresponsive me might have liked to comment on?"

"Miranda, go to sleep. I'll tell you in the morning." Andrea pulled the covers over her head.

"Now you're just being rude. Why won't you tell me? Did you forget?"

Andrea groaned and flopped onto her back. "If you're always like this at night, I can see why you're accustomed to sleeping alone."

There was a pause before the woman responded. "Andrea, I expected more of you," she said, all playfulness gone from her voice.

"You know how sometimes you say things when you think someone isn't listening? Or you're worried you'll never speak to them again? When you think it's your last chance to say something?" Andrea said. "That was how I felt when you were in the coma."

"But surely the doctors informed you that I was doing okay—getting better, in fact?"

"Yeah, they did."

"I don't understand."

"I was worried what would happen when you woke up. The first few days, I told you about my life, I complained about some coworkers, I read you some really funny blog posts. I told you a little about how working for you had really change my life and made me a better person. I apologized for leaving you in Paris. You know, just stuff that I was always too scared to say to your face," she said.

"What about after that?" Miranda asked.

"With all the talk about waking you up the next morning, I was terrified that you would be furious at me. I mean, really, I was like some crazy person—have you seen the movie While You Were Sleeping? Never mind, bad comparison. But I basically just inserted myself into your life, your extremely personal and well-guarded life, and entirely without permission. I mean I really thought you might have me arrested."

"Well, if it were anyone else, I just might have. But not you. What would you say if I told you that as I'm recalling more about the accident and the coma, I distinctly remember some sort of turning point? Something that changed the scene in my head not long before I woke?"

Andrea swallowed hard. "Um… I don't know."

"I think you do. I don't think I ever made out any of the words that you spoke, but during the first few days, in my peaceful, sunny meadow, you and I were apart. We were still in the same space, but farther than arm's reach. Then suddenly one day, we walked towards one another. I felt your hand on my cheek, and I reached for yours. You wrapped your arm around me and I felt safe…and loved," she said.

Miranda softly turned to her side. "Come closer," she said. "Closer." When the young woman was just a short distance away, Miranda reached her arm across her waist and laid her head on her shoulder. "Is this okay?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Andrea," she began, "Let me be honest. I don't know where this is headed. I can't be entirely certain that it's not just a symptom of my overall insecurity and anxiety after what's happened. I won't make any promises—not right now—because I don't know whether I can keep them."

"Miranda, please, stop," Andrea said. "I have loved getting to know you better these past few weeks. I do apologize for inviting myself into your life, but I am so glad I did. While I knew Miranda the Editor was a fantastic human being, I didn't know much about Miranda the Mom, the Friend, the person who loves croutons but won't eat bread crust. I am so grateful to get to know that person, and I totally consider you a friend," she said. "If we don't see much of each other once you've recovered—which I think will be very soon—then it's okay."

"Andrea. Stop. Stop," she said. She reached for the young woman's hand and squeezed it tightly. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves and just enjoy this time together. I think we both know how quickly life can change."

"Okay."

"Good. You know, I care about you, a great deal. No matter how much pain I was in or how confused I was from the medication, I would have never been furious or had you arrested. Now, goodnight, honey."

Andrea smiled at the endearment. "Goodnight," she said, pressing a kiss to the top of the woman's head. "Sweet dreams only, tonight."

"You can be sure of that," Miranda replied.

Over the next few days, as Miranda gradually reduced her pain medication, she realized that she would need to start thinking about going back to work. It was wonderful to be so blissfully ignorant of the world around her, and she was entirely grateful to Andrea for allowing her to recuperate in such an atmosphere.

She had a doctor appointment scheduled for Friday, at which point they would remove her cast, take an x-ray of her leg, and possibly replace it with a new, slimmer, shorter cast. Andrea needed to return to work on Monday, and Miranda decided it was time for her to get back in the game as well.

Neither were looking forward to saying their goodbyes on Sunday night, that was for sure.

On Thursday, when Andrea was making arrangements for Miranda's appointment the following day, there was a knock on the front door. Miranda was busy showing the movers where to move the furniture in her bedroom, now that it had been relocated to its original spot upstairs, so Andrea ran to the door and was shocked to see Roy standing there, dressed in plain clothes.

"Hey, how are you?" she asked. She reached out and gave him a hug, but pulled away when he didn't return the gesture. "Is everything okay?"

"I, uh, wanted to give this to Miranda. Is she around?" he asked. "I can come back another time if she's resting—"

"Don't be silly, come in. Help yourself to a cup of coffee or tea in the kitchen, and I'll go grab Miranda," she said.

Roy slowly made his way to the kitchen and took a seat at the table before pulling out an unmarked white envelope and setting it on the table.

Upstairs, Andrea met the editor in the hallway. "Who was at the door?"

"Roy. He's in the kitchen now, and he wants to see you." She watched the older woman's face grow pale.

"Did he say why?"

"No clue. He's not in uniform or anything." She took Miranda's arm and pulled her aside. "Are you okay with this? I can send him away and tell him you're busy."

Miranda shook her head and made her way down the stairs, without any assistance.

"Show off," Andrea whispered, following behind her.

"Miranda," he said, standing from his chair to meet her as she entered the kitchen.

"Good afternoon. What is the occasion?" she asked rather coldly.

"I, uh, wanted to see how you were doing, and um, to give you this," he said, handing her the envelope. "I better be going…"

"Roy, wait—" she said, her eyes scanning the handwritten note. "A resignation?"

"Miranda, I can't continue to drive you and your family. I feel terrible, just terrible." He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his eyes. "I'll be going now," he added as he made his way to the front door. "You two take care."

Miranda sank into the chair and dropped the letter on the table. "He's been my driver for twenty-four years," she said. "Do you think this was because of the accident?"

Andrea sighed. "I would guess it is entirely because of the accident. If you ask me, he seems to be carrying around a lot of guilt." Maybe this is what he needed to do to move forward, she thought. Right after realizing she would need to drive Miranda to the doctor again in the morning.

"I don't know if I like the idea of a stranger driving me around. Roy was like family," Miranda said. "It wasn't his fault. It was an accident," she said.

Andrea waited a few moments for Miranda to connect the dots, but eventually spoke up. "Maybe he needs to hear that from you," she said.

Miranda sighed and realized the young woman was probably right. "I will call him tomorrow. If he still wishes to retire, so be it."

Later that night, Miranda was happily tucked away in bed in her own room. Once again, Andrea slept next to her, and once again, she slept peacefully without any nightmares.

In the morning, Andrea drove her to see her orthopedic surgeon who had evaluated her leg and would now be removing her cast.

She was thrilled to be able to move her leg and bend her knee, but there was still a bit of pain when she tried to put pressure on it. The office tech did some imaging, then gave Miranda the option of a rigid hinged leg brace, at which her jaw nearly dropped.

"You think that awful contraption is better than the cast?"

"First, it's removable, so you don't have to wear it at night or when you bathe," he explained. "But also, it's made out of titanium, so it's really lightweight, and it's designed to be worn over your pants, so you wouldn't have to worry about finding something to fit over it."

"What are my other options? I thought you indicated something about a shorter cast?"

"The tendons around your knee haven't healed as quickly as we were hoping, so you'll need support there. It's this or a new cast," he said. "We did just get the pink and purple camouflage tape in stock—it glows in the dark."

At that comment, Andrea laughed out loud. "Miranda, I would pay to see you in that cast. Please choose that."

"Most certainly not. We'll go with the rigid hinged whatever," she said, waving her hands. She was hoping no one caught her pronoun usage, but of course, Andrea was too quick.

"Wise choice," she said after the tech left the room. "I think 'we' will be more comfortable tonight." She winked at the woman just as he was returning through the door.

"Got a smaller size for you. Here," he said, guiding Miranda's leg into the mechanism. "It locks here. You always want this aligned with the kneecap, and this should hit you mid-shin. To release, you just press here and here, and you're good. Try walking around in it," he said.

He helped Miranda off the exam table and held his arm out while she walked around the room. She was surprised at how comfortable it was, and she hardly needed help balancing—certainly no need for crutches.

"You'll need to wear this for the next six weeks, full time for the first four, again with the exception of sleeping and showering. After that, you should really only need it if you're walking or standing for extended periods of time," he added. "Any questions?"

"Does this come in pink and purple glow-in-the-dark camouflage, too?" Andrea said.

"Oh, shut up. Don't listen to her," Miranda said. "Thank you, I don't have any questions."

Later that evening, Miranda went to bed early. Between the doctor's visit and her physical therapy session afterwards, she needed some pain medication and rest. Andrea used the time to catch up on her work email in the guest room. As she was nearing the bottom of her inbox, she heard a scream and quickly rushed into the woman's bedroom.

Miranda was on her back, her hand covering her eyes as her heart raced. Andrea approached, quietly announcing her presence. "You okay?"

"Yes," she said. "I just can't get those headlights out of my mind."

"You need a change of scenery. How about a nice hot bath?" At that, Miranda's ears perked up. "I'll go turn the water on, then I'll help you up."

When she returned, Miranda was patiently waiting, sitting on the edge of the bed. Andrea held out her arm and helped her down. Her right leg was still very weak from being immobilized, and she was rightfully hesitant to put a lot of weight on it.

Andrea somehow managed to help Miranda into the bathtub while she had her eyes shut, although Miranda's moan of pleasure once surrounded by the fragrant bubbles was enough to make both of their cheeks turn pink.

"Andrea, can you bring me my phone? I have to call the girls."

The young woman returned with the phone, and a glass of sparkling water.

"A glass of wine would be superb right now," she said, looking up at the young woman, doing her best impression of a puppy dog.

"Sorry, you chose the pain medication," she said with a shrug.

"Oh, right."

"I'm going to shut the door so it stays nice and warm in here. Let me know when you're ready and I'll help you out."

Andrea could hear the hushed tones of Miranda's voice on the phone, but couldn't make out exactly what she was saying. She heard the water turn on twice, likely to reheat the bath water, and just as she was about to fall asleep, she heard Miranda call her name.

The young woman helped her out and onto the bath mat, and within a few minutes, she emerged from the bathroom in her silk pajamas and melted into the bed.

"That felt so good," she said while Andrea climbed into the bed from the other side. "The girls are going to stay in Park City until Spring Break. It's just a few more weeks, and it will make more sense. I'm not going to be much use to them next week, especially since I'll probably have to spend all day and all night fixing whatever happened while I was gone. Do you realize they planned an entire issue without my input?"

"Wow."

"I am willing to bet that Jocelyn stepped up. She's really come a long way," Miranda said. "I also talked to Roy. He'll be back on Monday morning."

"Seriously?" Andrea asked.

"Yes. I simply told him to get over his guilt, that they're called accidents for a reason, and that I didn't trust anyone else to drive my family," she said.

"Is that true?"

"Mostly." They lay in silence for a little while before Miranda turned to her side and snuggled against the young woman. She let out a tiny gasp as she felt her leg pressed against the other woman's. "Much more comfortable without the cast," she said.

Andrea nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of Miranda's head. "Goodnight," she said.

As was becoming ritual, about thirty minutes later, Miranda whispered, "Are you asleep?"

"Not anymore. Why?"

"Will you give me your phone number tomorrow? So I can call you or text you? It just occurred to me that I don't have it," she said.

Andrea chuckled. "Sure, of course. As long as you don't call me at all hours of the night and ask if I'm asleep."

"Oh, please. I would never do such a thing," she said.

A few minutes went by.

"Andrea?"

"Huh?"

"Do you love me?"

She could feel that the woman next to her was holding her breath. Being that it was the middle of the night and she didn't want to start an argument or series of questions, she answered as simply as she could: "Yes."

"Love love? Or feeling sorry for the poor old lady love?"

Andrea laughed. "And to think that you called me a 'chatterbox!'"

"I don't find this funny, Andrea," she said, pulling away and looking up at the young woman.

"Miranda. I love you," she said. She softly brushed the woman's cheek as she kissed her forehead, then her temple.

The older woman was flooded with such memories of peacefulness and warmth, she buried her nose in Andrea's neck and inhaled deeply.

"I love you, too," she said, pulling back to gaze at the young woman. Her eyes darted from the woman's eyes to her lips, then back again. She pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, then tucked her head back safely on her chest.

"Goodnight, Andrea."

The rest of the weekend was spent casually enjoying their newly-confessed feelings. Andrea wasn't surprised that saying the words aloud didn't really change anything about their immediate relationship.

On Sunday night, neither woman slept well, but they both had to rejoin the working world and move on with their lives. Andrea came by the townhouse several nights during the week, and if they hadn't seen each other, Miranda would call in the middle of the night just to hear her voice.

Though the girls were still in Utah, Cara came back to work, and it certainly helped as she was still wearing her brace.

Miranda's nightmares returned, and at one point during the week, she had to ask Roy to pull over so she could get out of the car because she was having an anxiety attack.

There were days when Andrea didn't hear from the woman, and at one point a day turned into a few days, into a week. Out of concern, she came over to the townhouse uninvited and met a glassy-eyed woman sitting in her recliner, staring off into space. She helped her to bed and laid with her for a while, until she revealed that she hadn't been coping with the accident well at all. Her therapist prescribed some mood stabilizers, but they were all stabilizer, no mood.

The girls came home during Spring Break, and that helped brighten her spirits, but it wasn't until Andrea showed up with her suitcase and announced that she would be staying at the townhouse temporarily that Miranda's spirits truly lifted. She knew the woman would never ask much of her, so Andrea talked to the girls and concocted a story about why she needed to evacuate her apartment.

Caroline and Cassidy understood right away, and they were fully supportive. In fact, Caroline was trying to think of reasons why the only bedroom in the house Andy could use was her mom's.

One night, when the girls were spending the night at a friend's house, Miranda was snuggled against Andrea on the bed, each working on their own computer. The editor closed hers and took off her reading glasses, and Andrea put hers aside as well.

"Do you still love me?" Miranda asked.

"Of course I do."

"Because you have to take care of me?" she asked.

"No. The other way around. I take care of you because I love you."

Miranda curled up against the young woman and began pressing kisses along her neck—some soft and gentle, others rough and devouring. She trailed her kisses upwards along the woman's jaw until she reached her mouth and they firmly locked lips in a passionate embrace. They parted for air and the editor looked up into the other woman's eyes dreamily.

"Is that all you've got? To think you didn't even get to see my glow-in-the-dark bra," the young woman teased.

"Oh, I so should have had you arrested when I had the chance," Miranda said, pinning her against the pillows. "You're mine, now."

"Always," Andrea said breathlessly.

.

.

The end.

Note: I'm humbled by the reviews on this work. I started it in 2013, and as some have noted, it's by no means a unique topic. Once I realized there was no way I could come close to something like "It's All Relative" or "Miranda Priestly: Indisposed" or any of the other numerous-and brilliant-fics that have Miranda in a hospital bed, I sort of gave up. But, it's 2016 now and my resolution is to finish what I start, and that begins with some unfinished Mirandy fics. They're unbeta'd, and I realize the ending seems a bit rushed, but it's finished. :) xo