Title: A Dark Moment - Miranda

Author: Widdy
Disclaimer: I don't own the Devil Wears Prada, or Miranda or Andy, unfortunately someone else does so I'm just borrowing them I will return them after I'm done.
Rating: PG

Feedback: Yes feel free to feed me.

Pairing: Andrea/Miranda

Summary: A dark moment in Miranda's life.

A/N: This story includes some angst, and may be upsetting to some readers. If this is you then please do not read, thank you.

Miranda felt like her body had been hit head on by a juggernaut. In retrospect Miranda knew she should have heeded the warning signs. They had all been there, unusual fatigue, sleep disturbances, shortness of breath, indigestion, anxiety. Every little sign that told her to go and see her physician has been there.

The real irony in the situation was she had intended to tell Andrea to contact her physician that very morning. While she had been standing over her desk, informing Andrea that her current work was subpar, the very next words she had been about to utter, were instructions to contact her doctor, Conrad Forster. However that had also been the very same moment that she had realised that she had left it too late. That was the moment that everything started to crumble.

She hadn't been feeling too well all morning. In fact if she was honest with herself Miranda knew she hadn't felt well for several weeks. Tightness in her chest, numbness in her left arm from time to time. She had been in a meeting with Irv and the board last week when she had been overwhelmed by the sensation of breathlessness. Her heart had felt like it had slowed and her lungs had felt like they had packed their bags and jumped ship.

That morning however was worse than the others. She had been awoken in the early hours of the morning on three separate occasions in cold sweats and feeling sick to her stomach. When she had woken the last time she had simply decided to give up on trying to sleep. Instead she had decided to shower, dress and check the Book one more time.

Her plans hadn't quite worked the way she had wanted it to. When she had stepped into the shower, Miranda had lost herself in the stream of the hot water. What she had planned to be a simple ten minute showed had turned into a forty-five minute marathon. The thing that had worried her the most was that fact she had felt like she had just stepped under the stream before she was interrupted. Miranda suspected she would have still been in the shower now, if Caroline's and Cassidy's argument hadn't interrupted her.

Even then she hadn't really been focused; Miranda just thought she was ill. She had thought it was a bug, some twenty-four hour infection. While she didn't feel great Miranda knew that she didn't have time to feel ill. She had responsibilities. She had her girls, they needed her. Illness or no illness she had been determined to take them to school. Just as she had been determined to go to work, she knew she couldn't afford to not be there, Miranda knew that her work would not wait for her.

So she had put on her normal face of distain, and through the girls bickering, she had somehow managed to get dressed, and arrive at Runway, while coping with her own condition.

She had lasted a little under two hours. It had taken two hours for her heart to decide it had had enough. Miranda could remember the moment perfectly. She could recall the scent of roses, germinis and carnations; she could still see Andrea, her head bobbing and her eyes wide as she had listened intently to her voice. She could still see the pulse in her neck jump as she had said something partially scathing. She could see her large chocolate brown eyes widen as they flooded with confusion, and then fear.

She could remember tightness in her chest. It had felt like somebody had reached inside her and had suddenly grasped and violently squeezed her heart, her lungs and everything else in her chest as hard as they possibly could. The pressure was unbelievable. Miranda also recalled the pain; she remembered how she wondered why the pain wasn't sharper, more acute. Instead it had been dull, like a low background hum. She had also felt sick, like she wanted to vomit.

Her fear had reached fever pitch when her vision had started to blur, and her breath had shortened. Miranda remembered how she had looked towards the brunette before her; she had heard her name spoken with alarm, then the sensation of falling had come.

Everything had happened as if in slow motion. As Andrea's desk had started to come into clear focus, Miranda remembered feeling panic set in, and then the continuous mantra that she had to keep fighting. Fighting for herself, fighting for her children. She just had to fight, she couldn't die. Then, there was nothing but darkness.

The next thing Miranda remembered was a floating sensation and then hands. Meaty digits digging into her legs and shoulders. She had heard voices, some distant some close. Someone had been calling to her, gently, for a moment it had sounded like a woman, and then the voice had deepened. The tone of the voice darkened and became more persistent. Miranda had felt fingertips upon her eyelids and then a sharp light.

Something had then been wrapped around her neck and something hard and sharp shifting beneath the skin of her left hand. She felt restricted. She had tried to move, but her body refused, and it wasn't helped by the fact that she was restrained somehow. Something was placed over her face. She had felt like her mind was swimming though a vat of treacle, every thought was sluggish. Her weighted feeling had been accompanied by a feeling cloudiness, every struggle to move into consciousness had been hindered, it was like a fog had settled over her, but every time she took a breath of air it cleared momentarily and she had been able to think straight, for just a moment.

She had known that she had to wake up; she couldn't stay in the darkness. She knew if she stayed, she would never leave. That was a scenario that was unacceptable. So she had fought, she had fought the dark, she had fought the haze. She had struggled through the syrup like feeling that encompassed her.

Somehow she had managed to force her eyelids to move. As they had fluttered open tiny pin pricks of light had pierced her corneas, stabbing at her relentlessly. As her vision started to clear Miranda became aware of the fact that she was moving. She had felt disorientated as a shape appeared in her vision. She had heard her name called out again, but she hadn't answered. Instead had allowed fear to consume her, as she had awoken to the severity of her condition, the realisation of what was happening to her started to close in. She had felt the fear she had felt when she had collapsed start to squeeze her at her chest, so she called out for the one person she could always really on. The one person who had never failed her, the one person in the world who had always met and exceeded her expectations. Andrea.

As always Andrea had appeared, asking her what she could do for her, she had done something that was so out of character. She had felt tears singing her eyes as she had asked her assistant to accompany her, what was even more unbelievable was the fact that her fear had overridden her usual safeguards and she had accompanied her plea with a please. She hadn't wanted to order Andrea, at that moment she had wanted Andrea to accompany her, and she had wanted her to come with her because she cared, not because she had been told to do so.

He assistant didn't reply immediately and Miranda knew she had shocked her with the plea. It was well know that Miranda Priestly did not do certain things, she did not share elevators, she did not wait for anything, and she certainly did not say please to her subordinates.

She had started to ask again when Andrea interrupted her and informed her that she would be right behind her. Then the gurney had moved again, the irony of the fact that she had to share an elevator with not one but three other people was not lost on her.

The trip to hospital had not been a pleasant one. Miranda would have given anything to have been in the back of her Mercedes Benz. The gurney had been secured but even so she felt every bump and every dip that was present in the road. It had only been the presence of Andrea that had kept her mind from what was happening. Miranda recalled how she had latched onto Andrea's hand, as she had found herself pouring her heart out to her assistant. She had found herself telling Andrea of her worry for her daughters, her worry about what would become of them if anything happened to her. She hadn't wanted to die; she hadn't wanted to leave them. In return Andrea had been kind and gentle, offering her reassurances, insisting that she would be fine, that she would soon return home to her daughters.

Soon enough they had arrived at the hospital and Miranda could remember how her panic had risen as she had been separated from Andrea. She could hear Andrea's voice and the worry it had contained as she had argued with a nurse that she should accompany her, only to have the woman inform her that she couldn't. She recalled that she had begged Andrea not to leave her before she had been rushed away.

As she had tried to look back for Andrea a woman had then appeared over her, her head partial obscured by a surgical cap. Miranda could still hear the doctor's voice as clear as if she was with her now; she could still hear her words as she asked her could she hear her. She could still feel the gurney she had been strapped to slow momentary as they rounded some hurdle and then speed up again.

She could still feel the doctor's fingertips as she had lifted her eyelids and checked the response of her pupils, she could hear her voice again as she explained that she had experienced a myocardial infarction, and how it was serious enough that they must operate immediately. Miranda recalled how she had appreciated the doctor's bluntness and the tone she used while explaining the procedure she had to undergo. If there was one thing she couldn't stand was mollycoddling, and how some of the medical profession at sight of some silver hair insisted upon talking to their patients like they were missing the majority of their brain cells.

She was led into a room and hands had lifted her from one gurney to another. New hands had appeared and the buttons upon her blouse had been opened and Miranda had watched as the doctor from earlier had appeared once more. After a quick examination the next words from the doctor's mouth had been 'prep for surgery'.

A voice had asked her if she could stand to remove her clothing. Miranda had found herself nodding as two nurses appeared to help her do just that. Miranda didn't recall much after that. She recalled the dark eyes of the anaesthesiologist and his deep melodic voice as he told her what he was doing. After that there was nothing, just a deep heavy feeling puling at her consciousness.

Miranda groaned as she took stock of her injuries. She presumed she had survived the surgery because surely she wouldn't feel pain if she hadn't. Pain wasn't exactly accurate, she felt some pain, but mainly she felt bruised. It was like an elephant had walked across her chest.

Miranda forced her eyes open and was thankful that when her sensitive vision wasn't assaulted by a bright light. Instead the room in which she lay was dimly lit. Miranda blinked slowly as she allowed her eyes to scan the room in which she lay. Her view was almost immediately obscured by an assortment of bouquets. Flowers of almost every colour imaginable were present. Miranda sneered as she imagined that news of her collapse had spread like wildfire, with many no doubt wising that she would not recover. Well that hadn't happened, and she would be back at Runway before they knew it.

Miranda continued her exploration, Miranda allowed a small smile to curl her lips as she scrutinised the blooms. They had been expertly chosen, only her favourites. It was as if the bouquets had been screened, and only the best had been accepted. Miranda knew that only one of her assistants could have done that. With that thought Miranda found her eyes landing upon that very assistant. Andrea.

She was sleeping curled up in a chair at the back of the room. Her was clothing wrinkled and her hair which had been free the last time she had seen her had been pulled back in a lose pony tail. Her sleep looked anything but peaceful, her head was moving from side to side and she was murmuring and Miranda was about to call out when the door to the room opened and Miranda found her attention shifting away from the brunette asleep in the chair at the back of the room.

A dark shape stepped through the door, Mirada blinked slowly as the shape took on the form of a woman and moved softly around the room. It was a nurse; she stepped at the foot of the bed. Miranda watched as the shape glanced at Andrea's sleeping form, and then it removed something from the bottom of the bed.

Miranda blinked slowly. When her eyes opened Miranda saw a round face swim into view. A small heavy set woman with red hair was standing next to her bed with a clip board under one arm. Two green eyes were staring intently at her face as they visually checked her condition.

"You're awake." The woman said as reached for something next to her.

Miranda tried to speak but found her mouth stuck together. It was like it had been filled with cotton balls.

The redheaded woman smiled in understanding and started to lift her arm.

"Water?" the nurse asked with raised eyebrows.

Miranda nodded as the nurse stepped forward and offered her a straw. Miranda strained her mouth towards the straw and sighed as the piece of plastic rested between her parched lips.

"There you go." The nurse said, "Nice a slowly now, small sips." She added when Miranda tried to take too much of the clear liquid.

The nurse pulled the cup away and Miranda frowned but thanked the nurse for the small drink.

"You are welcome." The nurse smiled and placed the cup upon a small movable table next to the bed. She removed the clipboard from under her arm and then started to check all the machines that surrounded her bed. Silence filled the room once more as the nurse started to make notes upon the clipboard.

"How long...?" Miranda asked when the nurse didn't speak again.

"How long have you been here?" the nurse asked as hooked the clipboard under arm again and picked up the water for Miranda once more.

"Yes." Miranda sighed and took another sip of the water the nurse held out for her.

"You were brought in just after ten am, and it's now four am. So that is about eighteen hours."

"God." Miranda sighed. She could hardly believe that eighteen hours had passed. It felt like everything had happened in minutes not hours. Where were her girls? They would have finished school by now, were they here somewhere, or were they home.

"I think he might have been looking out for you today."

"My girls?" Miranda asked.

"Your daughters?" the nurse placed the cup of water upon the table once more.

"Yes." Miranda nodded.

The nurse ran a hand through her hair and looked thoughtful, "they were here when I started my shift. I think your friend asked their childminder to take them home."

"Were they...?" Miranda started but couldn't finish as her throat tightened, she knew they must have been scared.

"They were fine. They were a little upset, but that's understandable." The nurse answered quickly her tone soft.

"Am I going to recover?" Miranda enquired.

The nurse sighed and twisted her lips.

"That's a question you will have to ask a doctor. You had a heart attack Ms Priestly, they had to perform surgery. I'll go and find a doctor for you, but while I gone you should try and rest." The redhead said firmly.

Miranda shook her head and then looked towards the back of the room, "How long has she been here?"

The nurse glanced over her shoulder towards the sleeping brunette before answering, "Since you came in."

"For eighteen hours?" Miranda asked shocked.

The nurse gave her a small smile and then hung the clipboard back upon the bottom of the bed and told her to press the call button if she needed anything.

"Yes, she wouldn't leave." The nursed responded with a nod and then exited the room.

Her words lingered within the air. Miranda closed her mouth and stared at Andrea's sleeping form. She had come with her to the hospital, she had waited while she had surgery, and she had sat with her in this room for the past eighteen hours. She had been terrified that she was going to die, and she had asked Andrea to stay with her, she had almost begged her to not leave her and the younger woman had done just that. She wasn't even nice to the younger woman, in fact she was downright rude to her most of the time, but for some unfathomable reason Andrea had not left her. Andrea had done something few had done; she had stayed with her when she needed her.

~fin~