A/N: Taking a break from the pregnant-Miranda fics and digging through some of the deeper/darker fragments on my computer. Mild warning for violence here. Hope you enjoy!

Safe

Andy stared at the clock on her nightstand. She should be tired; she was up for twenty-four hours straight. But then again, it was 2pm. She thought back to her first job at the Mirror three years ago. Things were simpler then, when she was writing the In the Community daily column. As a political report for the Post, and during a presidential season at that, she was overworked. The internet actually made her job more competitive—anyone could post a video or audio clip, and suddenly she lost her exclusive. And then there was Twitter.

Speak of the devil, she thought, rolling her eyes as she saw a new notification. She opened the app and was surprised to see several urgent messages:

nyprgod: andysachsWP are you seeing this? bomb threat ecpublications…the place is on lockdown

brooklynsquid: whoa, reports of a bomb at #eliasclark. andysachsWP, didn't you used to work there?

cattybrat09: i'll bet #mirandapriestly doesn't let everyone leave until work is done for the day. #eliasclark #newyork #hashtagsaremylife

nycfiredept334: situation escalating near #eliasclark. please use alternate routes to allow first responders a clear path.

She was certainly awake now. Pulling her sweatshirt over her head and slipping on her running shoes, she grabbed her bag and ran out the door of her tiny, overpriced studio, for once feeling grateful that she was only a few blocks away from the action.

When she stepped out onto the street, cars and people passed by like any other day. As she got closer, she saw the firetrucks and SWAT team assembled in the plaza around the corner. Pulling out her media credentials, she hurried over to get any information.

"Hey Alex! What's the story?" she asked, quickly spotting one of the lieutenants she had come to know.

"We don't know. There was a 911 call that there were shots fired on one of the upper floors, then another call that the shooter had a bomb inside Elias Clarke. We haven't been able to get a visual yet, but they're slowly trying to evacuate the building," he said.

"Did they say what floor?" Andy asked.

Alex shook his head, but she knew he was lying to her. Andy made her way over to a few of the firefighters who were standing by.

"Hey guys - what floor did they say this was on?" she asked. "It sounded like Alex said 16 but with those horns honking I missed it."

"No, it's 26," one of the men responded.

And with that Andy froze. The 26th floor was where Miranda's office was.

She sent out a few tweets describing the scene and the situation, then she called the main office number at Runway, which, presuming it hadn't been changed, would ring the assistants' desks in the outer office.

The call went to voicemail, and she felt her heart drop. Miranda.

Fumbling through her wallet, she pulled out a piece of paper and dialed the number, silently praying that she wasn't in the building.

"Hello?"

"Miranda?"

"Who is this? How did you get my number?"

"Miranda, wait, it's Andy—Andrea Sachs. Please," she said. When she was confident the editor was not going to hang up on her, she took a deep breath. "There's a security concern at Elias Clarke—reports of a shooter and an explosive device. They said it was the 26th floor," she said.

After a few moments of silence, Andrea spoke again.

"Miranda? Are you still there?"

"Yes, I, um…"

"Are you in your office?"

"Yes. Andrea, this is absurd. Why should I believe you? Everything is perfectly normal here."

"Miranda," Andrea said, "I am begging you to get out of that building."

"And everyone else?" Miranda asked. Andy swore she heard papers rustling in the background.

"I don't give a fuck about anyone else right now!" Andy shouted, a little surprised at her own reaction. "Please," she said. "I'll meet you outside in ten minutes. Or don't even meet me. Just promise me you are leaving—okay?"

"Yes. That's all."

The next few minutes stretched out agonizingly slowly. She leaned against a streetlight as her eyes were focused upward at the gleaming building, where somewhere, Miranda was hopefully on her way down to street level.

That's when she heard the blast. Three pops in rapid succession, shattering windows and stopping traffic. People on the street began to panic and scream. Onlookers pulled out their cell phones to take a video.

Andy quickly pulled her DSLR camera from her bag and snapped a few shots, then took a low-res one with her phone and sent a few more tweets. She reminded herself that it was her duty to report the news, but she couldn't help but think of Miranda.

Inside, Miranda packed up her bag and grabbed her coat, marching off to the elevators like it was any other day. She waited an unusually long amount of time for the elevator, pressing the button repeatedly. She could hear the car passing by her floor, but it was not stopping. Suddenly, she realized the young reporter was likely telling the truth.

With groan of annoyance, she headed for the stairs and began making her way down. After three flights, she stopped to take off her heels, then continued down. It was eerily quiet, not that she really had anything to compare it to. That's when she heard it, three explosions somewhere above her, echoing throughout the metal corridor.

She picked up the pace, practically running down the stairs, and pulled out her phone to call the girls. They were in school, so of course she expected their phones to be on silent in their locker, but she wanted to at least leave them a voicemail.

"Mom!?"

"Cassidy? Honey, aren't you in school?"

"Mom!" Caroline shouted into the phone. "Oh my god, we were so scared!"

"Sweetheart?"

"We are watching the news at school. Our teacher let us take our phone out," Cassidy said. "Are you at Elias Clarke?"

"I am. But I am on my way out—I'm on the sixth floor," she said, glancing up. "Just stay with your teacher. I will be there to pick you up soon, okay?"

"We love you, Mommy," Caroline said.

"Oh, Bobbseys, Mommy loves you both so much. But it's all going to be okay, my loves. I will see you soon," she said before ending the call.

When she reached the fourth floor the stairwell stopped and she exited, shocked and relieved to see police officers and security guards directing her and many others towards the main escalators. On the ground floor, security led the people out of the building and into the street which had been blocked off.

"Stay calm, and please move away from the building," a police officer reminded them.

Miranda picked up her phone and redialed the last incoming call.

"Where are you?"

"Outside—in the street. I made it out," she said.

"Where?"

Miranda looked around. "Um, next to the loading zone sign in front of the Realtors building."

"Okay, STAY THERE. I am coming to you," she said.

Miranda took a deep breath and stopped, looking around, trying to spot the brunette through the crowd. "I talked to the girls. They are showing the news coverage at school," she said.

"I didn't even think about that—they must have been worried sick," Andrea said. "Okay, I see you. Wait just one more minute."

Miranda sighed. She wasn't sure why she was waiting, not when she needed to see her girls.

"Hey, you're okay," Andrea said, finally standing next to the editor.

"I am. And you're…dressed in rags. Really, Andrea did you learn nothing?"

Andy softly bit her lower lip and cast her eyes downward—that's when she noted the editor was barefoot and that her Prada pumps were sticking out of her bag.

She reached out for Miranda's hand. "I actually dress much better, you'd be proud. I worked the graveyard shift last night, then was woken up by news of this, and I came over as fast as I could," she said.

They looked at each other for a few minutes in silence, neither sure what to say next. Andy finally stepped closer and wrapped her arms around the woman, hugging her tightly and whispering that she was glad she's okay.

"Andrea, thank you. We need to go to Dalton now, come along," she said, taking her hand and leading her away.

The young woman followed for a few minutes, then stopped suddenly in place. "Miranda, wait," she said.

Miranda reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Andrea, I can't—right now I need to get to Dalton and see my girls. You are welcome to come home with me. Once I get my girls home safely, you and I can talk," she said.

"Okay, um, great. I was actually going to suggest we try to catch a taxi. We're far enough away—traffic seems to be moving a little bit. And," she added quietly, "we're heading in the wrong direction."

"Are you serious?" Miranda asked, stopping and staring blankly at the young woman. She looked around, and realized that in her haste to get away from Elias Clarke, she inadvertently led them in the other direction.

Andrea quickly hailed a taxi and held the door while Miranda climbed in. Andrea gave the driver the address of Dalton school, and explained the traffic and street closings around Elias Clarke that he would need to avoid.

Miranda groaned at the putrid smell of the cab and reached for her cell phone, calling the girls to let them know she was on her way and would be there soon. "Andrea, call—never mind," she said.

"No, what is it?"

"I was hoping to secure a black car at Dalton, but forget it. I'll figure something out."

"I can call for a car for you if you'd like," Andrea said. "I don't mind, really."

"I can't ask you to do that," she said.

Andrea reached over and put her hand on the woman's knee. "I know you won't be able to relax until you're with the girls, but just try. Let me take care of this for you."

The woman nodded and reached down to rub her aching feet while Andrea called for a car.

. . . .

The ride stretched on. Traffic was worse than usual for a Thursday afternoon, but judging by what Andy could gather from Twitter, it looked like the police was treating the Elias Clarke situation as a possible terrorist threat, so everything in the city was on lockdown, including the subways and trains. Andy could feel the anxiety radiating off the editor, but she was unsure what to say or do, so they rode in complete silence, except for the few calls Miranda accepted from the girls.

Andy noted that Miranda's phone was ringing like crazy—likely others trying to ascertain whether she was okay. Quickly realizing that Miranda must have felt some sort of guilt for running out of the building, she began to understand why she was declining calls.

When they arrived at Dalton, Miranda ran out of the car before it came to a complete stop. There were a lot of photographers camped out around the school, but Andy knew the woman didn't care about that. If they wanted to post a picture of her running barefoot into Dalton and hugging her daughters after the events of the day, that would be the last thing on her mind.

"Ma'am, that will be $64.25," the driver said.

Andy sighed and pulled out her credit card. She climbed out of the cab and looked around, quickly spotting the plates of the black car that she had sent to retrieve Miranda and the girls. Walking over to them, she gave them Miranda's home address and stepped aside as she checked Twitter and responded to messages, updating the situation as best she knew.

andysachsWP: unbelievable scene at #eliasclark today. unconfirmed reports that #mirandapriestly was not in the building at the time.

She added that bit, not knowing how Miranda would want to handle the press. Folks on Twitter were pretty awful, saying that she should have been shot, or worse, that she orchestrated it all. No doubt there would be security tapes of her leaving the building eventually, but anything she could do to diffuse the situation, she was happy to.

"Girls, you remember Andrea, right?" Miranda said as she walked over.

The girls both said hello to her and climbed into the car. Their eyes were red from crying, and Andrea could only imagine how they had felt for the past hour.

"All of your photos posted of my reunion with my daughters?" Miranda snapped.

"What? No. No, I didn't take any," Andy said. "Seriously, look," she handed over her phone.

Miranda pulled up the photos and saw the building and surrounding scene, but nothing of her. As she was about to hand the phone back, she noticed a notification from Twitter and clicked on it, seeing that someone had retweeted her previous message. "Unconfirmed reports?" she asked.

"Trying to diffuse," she said with a shrug.

"Oh right. No one cares if I survived," she said.

"Actually, on the contrary, the overwhelming majority is hoping you were one of the victims," Andy snapped back. She had been too long without sleep and wasn't up for playing Miranda's games.

Miranda rolled her eyes and gestured a the car. "I do hope you'll get in sometime today."

"Oh! I should really be going home."

"Andrea," the woman threatened.

"Fine. But I need a nap."

Miranda nodded, and Andy climbed into the car.

Once they arrived at the Townhouse, Miranda had to direct the car to pull around back to their private drive so they could avoid some of the paparazzi. Miranda sent the girls upstairs to wash up, and after dismissing Cara, she gestured for Andrea to follow her up the stairs.

"You may rest here in the guest room," she said. "There should be some toiletries in the en suite if you need to shower or freshen up. We will be having dinner at 7."

"Thank you," Andy said. The thought of a hot shower sounded wonderful, so she quickly rinsed off, then collapsed on the bed, still wrapped in towels.

Meanwhile, Miranda changed into some comfortable clothes and went in search of her daughters. She found them huddled on Caroline's bed, watching something on one of their iPads.

"Bobbseys? What are you watching?" Miranda asked.

Cassidy quickly turned the iPad off and tucked it under her pillow. "Nothing," they said in unison.

Miranda knew better, but decided to let it go. Instead, she squeezed onto the bed between her girls and hugged and kissed them both. "I was so scared that I would never see you two again," she said. "And I have Andrea to thank for that. She called me, and in a very no-nonsense way, demanded that I leave the building immediately."

Cassidy giggled, but Caroline pressed on. "So you just did what she said?"

"Well, no. At first I told her she was ridiculous and insane, and then she used a swear word or two, and that was my first clue that she was serious. Then, I began to think of you two," she said, kissing them both on the tops of their heads. "If there was any chance that she was right—because really, she had no reason to lie to me about this—I could never forgive myself if I had a chance to leave and didn't. So I went to the elevators, and after waiting a few minutes, I realized security had somehow disabled the buttons on my floor."

"Mom! What did you do?"

"Well, I went to the stairs, calmly. And when I got to the bottom, there were police everywhere, and the street out front was blocked off. I met up with Andrea, and then we came to get you from school," she said.

"What about everyone else at Runway?" Caroline asked.

"Yeah we heard that seven people were injured," Cassidy added.

"You 'heard,' huh?" Miranda said.

Cassidy nodded and turned away.

"Listen. I didn't see anything. As soon as I left, my only thought was about getting to you, and getting you home safe. And you girls know our policy about watching the news, right? Not without me," she added, glancing over at the iPad sticking out from underneath the pillow.

"So, um, Andy kind of saved your life?" Cassidy asked.

"Yes. I might not have gotten out of the building in time were it not for her. I know she is exhausted, but I am hoping she stays the night with us so I can talk to her a little bit more. I showed her to the guest room upstairs."

"Okay. Um, do we have to go to school tomorrow?" Caroline asked.

"No," Miranda said quickly. "And I will not be going in to work tomorrow, either. I need to find out more information first, and there will surely be people I need to talk to." She took a deep breath and hugged the girls tightly. "Are you both okay?" They nodded and she scooted off the bed. "Okay, I am going to clean up a little. I told Andrea we'd have dinner at 7."

. . . .

"Andy? Wake up," Cassidy said, nudging her shoulder.

The brunette opened her eyes and saw two redheads staring back at her.

"Hey, I'm up. What time is it?"

"6:58. Dinner is in two minutes. Mom doesn't like us to be late," Caroline said, grabbing her sister and running out of the room.

"Shit," Andy said, jumping up to get dressed. She noticed a pair of black yoga pants and a gray shirt on the bed, so she put those on, threw her hair into a braid, and ran downstairs.

Miranda was clearly surprised that Andy came downstairs on time, but said nothing. Dinner consisted of chicken breast with some sort of pasta, and asparagus, of which Miranda only ate the chicken and asparagus. For dessert, though, Andy was surprised to see Miranda cutting four slices of chocolate cake and reaching into the freezer for ice cream. She dished out mint chocolate chip for Caroline and Cassidy and a small scoop of butter pecan for herself.

"Andrea, do you have a preference?" she asked.

"Um, no ice cream for me. Thanks."

Miranda tilted her head and looked at the young woman, trying to read her expression.

"I try to avoid dairy," Andy added.

"We have some coconut milk ice cream if you'd prefer?" Miranda said.

"No, but thank you so much. The cake is fine."

Miranda smiled and put the ice cream back in the freezer, then cut another slice of cake and added it to Andy's plate.

"Mom! That's like, cake with a side of cake!" Cassidy said.

"'What would you like with your cake?' 'Oh, I'll have a side of cake, thank you,'" Caroline imitated as both girls erupted into giggles.

"Girls. Andrea, I cut smaller slices of cake thinking we would all be indulging in ice cream, so I apologize."

Andy's eyes widened. "Thank you," she said. "I love chocolate cake."

After dinner, Andy helped Miranda clear the table, loading the dishwasher while Miranda wrapped the leftovers and placed them in the refrigerator. When she finished loading the dishes, Miranda reached out and took her hand.

"I am going to spend some time with my daughters, after which I am certain they will want to go to bed early. The girls and I are both staying home tomorrow. You are welcome to stay with us, in the guest room. Actually, I hope you will stay. I would like to speak to you further, but this afternoon has been trying—and I'm sure you have your own work to get to." Her voice trailed off in a strange way, as if there was more she was going to say but decided against it.

"As long as you don't mind, I will stay. I'll check in with my editor while you're with the girls. Just, um, well, come find me in the guest room when you're ready," she said.

Miranda nodded and watched the young woman walk out of the kitchen.

Several hours later, once the girls were in bed, Miranda turned her phone back on and began sorting through her messages. Before she could even get to her emails, she saw an urgent text message from Leslee: Before you say or do anything, CALL ME.-ld

Not one to disobey, she quickly dialed the woman's cell.

"Miranda?!"

"Yes. Hello, Leslee."

"Jesus, it's good to hear your voice. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am at home and I just sent the girls to bed."

"Where were you today? How did you get out of Elias Clark?"

"Andrea Sachs, my former assistant, now reporter at the Post, called me and demanded I leave the building."

"And you did. Just like that?"

Miranda thought for a moment. "Yes. She had no reason to lie to me. I trust her immensely."

"I didn't realize you two kept in touch. I remember Andy—she was one of the good ones."

"Yes, still is, apparently. And no, we hadn't spoken in four years."

"Miranda, have you seen the news?"

"No."

Leslee sighed. "Okay, um, so a woman got past security with a rolling suitcase, claiming she had something that she needed to deliver to you personally. The suitcase was full of explosives. She corralled eighteen people into conference room on 26 and demanded to know where your office was, but no one would say a word. Her motive is unclear, but one of the witnesses remembered her talking about her daughter. Swat teams were assembled down the hall, but before they could reach her, the explosives went off. There were twelve employees killed in the blast, plus the shooter. Another six are at the hospital in critical condition."

After a few minutes of silence, Leslee checked to see if Miranda was still on the line. "Hello?"

"I—I'm still here. I don't know what to say. Who was it?"

"I emailed you the list of victims. Most were actually from Auto Universe, because they were using the conference room. A few people from your staff, though—Paul, Jocelyn, and Elizabeth—were among the fatalities. Serena, Emily, and Claire are among those in critical condition."

"Oh my god."

"I'm sorry, Miranda. I know this isn't easy, but," she paused and took a deep breath, "it doesn't look good that you left."

"Leslee, this is what I pay you for. Find a way to spin it. Surely someone has a photo of me running barefoot away from the building, hugging Andrea with tears in my eyes, running up to the girls at Dalton. Where were the photographers then?"

"Wait, you hugged Andrea?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Nothing. I mean, that just seems unlike you. I've never seen you hug anyone aside from your daughters. Maybe that's the angle."

"How so?"

"Your girlfriend is a reporter. She's terrified for your life when she sees the news developing. She convinces you to leave the building, you reunite," Leslee said. "Too bad she didn't go home with you, then it'd be a no-brainer."

Miranda choked on her water.

"I know it's unrealistic, but that's the kind of story I need."

"Les, Andrea is upstairs in the guest bedroom right now."

"What!? This is a gift, Miranda. An absolute gift. Let me go drop some hints and try to locate a picture of you two. I'll call you back," she said, hanging up.

Miranda sighed. As much as she wanted to tell Leslee to stop and that she would need to confer with Andrea first, she was a tiny bit curious to see how things would play out.

She switched on the television and skimmed through the news reports, shocked at the horrific scene she saw.

A short while later, Andy went downstairs for a bottle of water. On her way back from the kitchen, she saw the flickering light of the television coming from the den and carefully peered around the corner, gasping at what she saw. Miranda was curled up on the couch, sobbing into a blanket.

Andy walked over and sat next to her on the couch, draping her arm around the woman's shoulders. The editor looked up through bloodshot eyes, but Andy just nodded and hugged her closely while she cried.

"Shh, you're okay. You're safe," she whispered as she softly stroked her back.

After a few minutes, Miranda sat up and wiped her eyes. "She wanted me. She came for me, not all of them. They were innocent."

Andy reached out and took the woman's hands. "And you are innocent, too. You are not to blame here. You did nothing wrong, Miranda."

"Elizabeth Welch was my assistant. She knew where I was. She protected me and it cost her her life," Miranda cried.

"And I would have done the same, Miranda. I am sure you feel guilty right now, but you have to know that short of sacrificing yourself, there's nothing you could have done. You have two little girls here who love and adore you. You were thinking about them."

"It's so selfish," she said.

"Yes, but I think it's okay to be selfish like that sometimes," she said. "Come on, let's go to bed. You'll feel better in the morning."

Not long after Andy crawled into bed, she heard a soft knock at the door. She watched as Miranda let herself in and cautiously made her way to the edge of the bed. "I can't sleep," she said. "I keep hearing the explosion and imagining the victims…"

"Come here," Andy said as she scooted over and patted the mattress next to her.

Miranda reluctantly crawled into bed and curled up alongside the young woman.

"Is that better?" Andy asked, reaching over and tucking Miranda's hair behind her ear.

Miranda nodded. "Thank you for keeping me safe," she said quietly, pressing a light kiss to Andy's cheek.

. . . .

The next morning, Andy woke and could hardly take a deep breath. She was hot and there was a weight on her chest. Cracking one eye open, she saw the culprit: Miranda Priestly was asleep on top of her. Careful not to wake her, she remained still. Miranda had an exhausting day and needed her sleep, she reasoned. It's just—when she invited the woman into her bed last night, she didn't expect to actually touch her, let alone wake up beneath her. Her arm was starting to tingle, so she tried to gently switch positions, rolling Miranda onto her side.

"Mmmm," the editor groaned, her eyes still closed tight. "Don't leave me," she said sleepily.

"Hey," Andy said, shaking her gently, but enough to wake her up. "It's time to get up. The girls will be up any minute," Andy added.

Miranda blinked her eyes open. After the initial look of fear passed through her eyes, she relaxed and laid her head against the young woman's chest.

"How are you this morning?" Andy asked, gently stroking her back.

"I wish I could stay in bed like this all day. I haven't slept that well in ages," she said.

Andy smiled and met the woman's eyes. She was shocked to find something else there—desire. Miranda's eyes focused on her lips, and then back up to her eyes, and within seconds their lips were pressed together.

"Moooom?!" Cassidy shouted.

"Fuck," Miranda whispered, pulling away. "Hold that thought," she said, pressing her finger to Andy's lips.

"In here!" she said, sitting up and straightening out her shirt and her hair.

Cassidy and Caroline came bursting through the door and stopped dead in their tracks. "Whoa," Caroline said as she looked from her mother to Andy back to her mother.

"I couldn't sleep after everything yesterday," she said. She always believed in being honest with her daughters and not hiding anything. "Andy talked to me until I fell asleep."

Cassidy shrugged. "Cara's downstairs and wants to know if you guys want pancakes, and if you are going to eat with us."

Miranda looked over at the young woman, and started laughing when she saw her wagging her eyebrows. "I didn't even need to ask. Of course we would love some pancakes. Give us five minutes and we'll be downstairs," she said.

Once the girls left, Miranda turned to the young woman and kissed her. "This is going to sound ridiculous in the wake of everything that's happened," she said, "but falling asleep and waking up with you has been incredible, and I think I want that everyday."

"Wow, um, yes, I mean, I agree," Andy stammered.

"Good. It's settled. You'll move in next week. Now, don't be late for breakfast," she said, climbing out of bed and throwing on a robe.

"Yes, Miranda," the young woman said, grinning and thanking her lucky stars.

.

.

TBC - heard loud and clear, this story is not finished yet. it is in my head, but i'll be working on that. :)