Pairing: Miranda/Andrea
Raiting: PG-13 (Some violence and strong language)
Words: 4,102
Raiting: PG-13 (Some violence and strong language)
Words: 4,102
Disclaimer: Miranda Priestly, Andrea Sachs, Emily Charleston, Nigel Kipling and any other recognizable character have been borrowed without permission but for pure entertainment and without any purpose of profit or commercial gain.
~~~
“We don’t know where she is at the moment, Miranda...”
She kept hearing John’s words over and over again.
‘God...please...’
She smiled gently and glanced at the twins who were sitting next to her, oblivious to the perils of life as it should be.
And then she heard her blackberry ring.
It was Nigel.
Very nervously, Nigel told Miranda about the strange call he had received. He said that a man named Birdie, who had befriended Andy, had called to inform him of Andy’s whereabouts in case something happened to her.
And something had.
Thirty minutes later Roy was dropping the twins off at the townhouse while Miranda was frantically talking to Mr. Kelly, the Police Commissioner of New York.
“No Michael, all I know is that some strange man called one of my colleagues from Andrea’s cell phone and told him she’d been kidnapped...”
Gently, Miranda leaned over to kiss the girls while their nanny waited for them at the door. “I’ll see you later, darlings...I love you...” she whispered.
“No Michael, I do not know who this man is! What portion of NO you fail to understand? He said he was calling because Andrea had asked him to do so...No, I don’t know why! Who cares whether she called Nigel or John or me? The point is he called and she is in danger and you’re wasting bloody, precious time, for the love of God!”
She closed her eyes and leant back on the leather seat as her left thumb and middle finger rubbed the creases of worry on her forehead.
“Yes...” She paused, nodding to the phone. “Yes...the man said she would be kept in a warehouse in Queens...yes, a warehouse on the corner of Archer and wait...I have it written down...yes, Archer and 147th place...he said it was near a train station...”
Miranda’s body coiled as Roy watched on through the rear-view mirror; whatever was happening with Andy, wasn’t good.
“No! That’s unacceptable Michael! Then I’m going there and I’ll follow the instructions to pay the ransom money! I called my office and had the cash withdrawn, so it’s done!”
In a fit of rage, very unlike the editor who was usually calm during a crisis, Miranda ended the call and slammed the blackberry to the floor of the car with force. “Fuck!” yelled the woman who seemed consumed by despair.
Roy watched her closely through the mirror and for the first time in the last six years he had been her driver, he saw...remorse.
With a shaken voice Miranda called Nigel from her other cell phone tucked inside her bag and asked him to wait for her with the money. Immediately after, she ordered Roy to drive to the Elias-Clarke building.
The world had lost its balance.
***
Indeed, Andy had been taken to something that looked to her like a warehouse. Unfortunately, the thin gauze covering her eyes, while allowing her to see something, prevented her from really being able to take a good look at her surroundings or her captors.
Her ordeal had started the night before. While standing at that corner of Hunts Point, a large SUV stopped and two men descended from it. They approached Andy but she figured they were dealers as well, by their looks.
She was wrong.
In seconds one of them pressed what felt like the barrel of a gun to her ribs and asked her, very quietly, to stay calm and step into the vehicle. Immediately, one of the men sat at the wheel and the other one, next to a frightened Andrea. The one sitting next to her kept the gun pressed against her, asked her not to turn and proceeded to blindfold the girl.
From a safe distance, Birdie watched.
Once the vehicle was gone and he was apparently out of danger, he called Nigel’s cell per the journalist’s instructions.
Unfortunately, this was past 1:30 am and Nigel’s phone had been turned off.
He remembered the details of the conversation he had with the men in the early hours of that evening as he inhaled a cigarette in what seemed mere seconds; “We’ll whack her if you don’t tell us who she is, Birdie...”
The memories kept coming back to him.
“Fine, fine...don’t hurt her, though, she’s a journalist...from The Mirror...”
“Atta boy, Birdie...We got orders to kill her but if you cooperate, we’ll let her go. Call her boss, tell him-“
“It’s a woman...”
“Who’s a woman..?”
“Her boss...it’s a woman...”
“Whatever Birdie, who gives a shit? Tell ‘er we want 500 grand by 1 pm tomorrow afternoon. Tell her to bring the money to the old A&P warehouse at the corner of Archer and 147. You got that?”
“Yes...I don’t have her number, though...”
“You’re such a fucking idiot. Call whoever you need to call but make sure we get that fucking money tomorrow, yo hear?
And with that, the men left.
The young man really did not want them to hurt Andy and was gripped with anger and regret at his own actions. But they had promised they wouldn’t hurt her and had threatened him to cut his supply of heroine so he had to give in.
“Fucking hell...” uttered the young man as he tried to reach Nigel again, unsuccessfully.
Andy was cold, hungry and frightened. They had arrived at the location and one of the men had shoved her inside an old meat cooler that, while it was not working, still felt like it was. They had given her a blanket and some water before they left but had kept the blindfold and had tied her wrists together behind her back.
Her breathing came in pants once she realized she had been left alone. She was relieved but hyper alert; her ears constantly scanning for new sounds. Her arms hurt, her stomach burnt and the regular grazing of what she figured could be rats...petrified her.
With a mixture of shame, pain and terror, Andrea broke down in sobs.
***
As he stepped into the luxurious silver Mercedes, Nigel looked nervous.
“Let’s go to Queens, Roy...” Miranda said, defeated.
“Yes, Ms. Priestly...”
Minutes later the car was speeding along the Queens Midtown tunnel. Miranda kept her eyes closed, her right hand’s fingers supporting her weary head.
Her left hand was clutching Nigel’s.
He turned, looked at her and despite the unnerving circumstances he smiled; they always had that going for them... each other.
Miranda’s blackberry started to ring again.
Nigel looked surprised to realize the sound came from somewhere underneath Roy’s seat. He leaned over, stretched his arm and hand and grabbed it, passing it over to Miranda.
“Yes Michael...”
She inhaled audibly and rolled her eyes.
Whatever the police commissioner was proposing was pushing Miranda closer to the edge.
“I’m on my way...”
She smirked and rolled her eyes as her right hand tightened into a fist on top of her right thigh.
Nigel squeezed tighter.
She looked over and slightly nodded, acknowledging his gesture.
“No! I will not stand back, Michael! You’ve known about this for what, over an hour now, and all you have done is ask the same stupid questions, no! I’m on my way with the money and I’ll get my girl back and that’s that! You can send officers to the scene; you can do whatever the hell is that you police officers do! But mock my words, I will get that girl out of trouble!”
And she hung up again.
This time, the electronic device was not hurled inside the car. She just ended the call and let it drop to her lap.
“That was the police commissioner...he’s going to send some units over...” she muttered, pursing her lips in disapproval.
“That’s good to know...” said the bald man with a conciliatory tone in his voice.
“Whatever...”
Thirty five minutes later, the car was exiting the Van Wyck Expressway and Miranda was getting edgier.
“I need to call him...”
Nigel who had sensed the immense dread contained in Miranda’s voice, offered to make the call.
“No...” She paused turned and sighed “...I’ll do it...I’m just afraid he’s going to say...”
“Andy will be fine, Miranda...”
“Will she..?”
She let her words hang in the air like those thick bands of clouds that descend from the mountains after a summer’s shower. She turned and again, her hands curled into balls. “I should have never let her go...”
Nigel moved closer and reclaimed possession of the hand that for most of the trip, he had held in his. “Everything will be okay...”
“You don’t know that, Nigel...I just...” uttered Miranda as she stared outside the window.
In an instant, her voice broke as if the nearness of the warehouse had some magical power to unravel her little by little; as if the miles were peeling one by one, her defences. “You remember that night in Paris, the day of the James Holt announcement..?”
“How could I possibly forget?” added Nigel with some sarcasm that vanished quickly.
“She left me a note...”
“That was the note that..?”
“Yes...the one Serena handed to me while you were in my room...”
“Right...”
“She told me she didn’t hate me...she told me that leaving Runway and leaving me was...” She paused, her breath shaking “...the hardest thing she had ever done...”
Miranda whimpered very slightly. “She apologised profusely and...” She cleared her throat. “She said she had to leave because she did not want to become like me...”
Nigel nodded.
“But...”
“But..?”
Miranda found it hard to continue. She closed her blue eyes and her head dropped in sorrow. “That’s why she found it hard...”
Nigel furrowed his brow in confusion. “I’m sorry Miranda, I’m...What? I’m sort of confused now...”
“She found it hard because while there were things about the person I am she did not approve of or understood...she knew that there was more, that there was more to me that she wished she could stay to see...”
Nigel smiled, touched. “That was sweet...”
The editor smirked at his words.
A few minutes went by. Miranda stared outside as if in deep observation. Nigel glanced at her knowing perfectly well she was not looking at anything at all.
“She said she hoped that one day she could come back and be graced with my presence once again...silly girl...” Miranda shook her head in disapproval, smirking again. “Beautiful, silly girl...”
“Yes...” Nigel added squeezing her hand in his, gently. “We’ll bring her back, you’ll see...”
“What if I lose her again? Lose her forever..?”
Nigel’s insides were yanked by some strange force. He felt so bad about Miranda and Andy that he really could not find any soothing words in his heart to comfort his long time friend.
And he found himself...lost.
The thorny moment was interrupted by Roy’s voice, “This is it, Ms. Priestly...”
***
The fates took pity on Andrea and mercifully, allowed her to fall asleep for a few hours. When she woke up, she did because of the voices that were approaching the cooler from the outside.
“Yo! Come on! Wake up sleeping beauty, time to see Mama...”
They opened the meat cooler, untied Andrea from the column she had been tied to and brought her out. She was dehydrated, hungry and in desperate need of a bathroom.
Her bodily needs were quickly forgotten when they asked her to call Miranda.
“No!”
“Don’t be such an idiot, little girl, you gonna call or I’ll smack ya”
Andy tightened her lips and repeated, “No, I won’t”
And good to his words, the man punched her with force close to her left eye.
Moaning in pain, Andy lost her balance and landed a few feet away.
“Ya gonna call now?”
Tears of frustration and pain rolled freely. The last thing she wanted to do was to get Miranda directly involved in this mess of her own making. She figured Birdie must have called Nigel to warn him and someone would have contacted the police and that they soon be on their way but...
How did these mobsters know about Miranda, though..?
“What’s the number bitch?”
She struggled to sit upright but the blow to her face left her dizzy. She stumbled a couple of times; her head throbbing.
But because she didn’t answer fast enough, she got another hard smack on the left cheek.
This one made her cry out in sheer agony.
“Gimme the number...” one of them yelled with venom.
This time, Andy obeyed.
Quickly.
“917...507...3445...”
“Yo gonna tell’er ya fine, you hear? Then yo gonna tell’er to bring the money to Archer and 147 place in Queens...Oh, and tell’er that if she’s not here in the next two hours, we’ll kill ya, ya got that sweetie pie?”
Andy moaned a soft “Yes...”
The man dialled and placed the phone to the battered woman’s ear.
Miranda picked up on the second ring.
“Andrea?”
Hearing Miranda’s voice made Andy cry, instantly. She couldn’t help herself no matter how hard she tried to be brave. “M-Miranda?”
“It is me, yes. Are you alright? Say you’re alright...please...”
The last words choked in Miranda’s throat.
“Uh...uh...yeah...” Andy paused as tears rolled, unbound. “Listen, I-I-I’m fine but you need to bring the...uh...money to...to...”
Miranda’s voice quivered. “I’m here sweetie, calm down...I’m here and I have the money...”
Nigel shivered.
The instant Andy heard Miranda use the common and ordinary term of endearment, a loud sob escaped uncensored. Miranda heard it and started to yell frantically.
“Andrea! Talk to me! Andrea!”
The phone was taken off Andy’s ear and one of the men yelled at the editor, pushing Andy away, which made her tumble again onto the cold and dirty floor.
“Where are you?”
Miranda closed her eyes and using the last resources of emotional intelligence she had, she remembered that this was all for her girl.
“I have the money and I am inside a silver Mercedes, parked outside the alleyway next to the warehouse...”
The guy on the phone walked towards a window that looked onto the street and in seconds, spotted the car.
“Okay, okay, excellent, I can see tha car. Listen, step out with the money and walk to the entrance of the alleyway...I’ll pick it up from there...”
“What about the girl?” asked Mirada immediately.
“Oh don’t worry about ‘er...you’ll get ‘er as soon as I pick up the money but yo’ll see ha, don’t yo worry about your little candy...”
“Spare me your moronic talk, you imbecile, I’m coming out now!”
Andy had stopped crying. The pain and dehydration were so pronounced now, that the young woman, while not completely unconscious, could not will herself to put up a fight. Kneeling on the floor, her hands still tied to her back and blood dripping from a gash on her eyebrow, Andy only prayed the end would come soon.
Whatever end it would turn out to be.
***
“Ms. Priestly, please stay in the car...I’ll do it...”
“Yes Miranda, let Roy take the suitcase...”
Miranda looked at both men and her lips curled into a grateful and heartfelt smile. She leaned over and grabbed the briefcase as she reached to the door. “No. This is my job...this is what I have to do. She is my problem...you two have been gold and I shall not forget all your help and your discretion...”
She smiled again and stepped out.
The man put the phone in his pocket and watched as one of the doors of the car opened and a very elegant, silver haired, middle aged woman stepped out carrying a leather briefcase. She put out the briefcase to make it more visible.
“Go mama...the bitch brought the money...” he muttered to himself as he motioned to his accomplice to bring the girl to him.
The sun glared on her blue eyes hidden behind the Prada sunglasses. For a moment she looked back, startled by the whistle of an incoming train pulling onto the station behind her.
She trembled.
After a second of hesitation in which she asked herself why was she in that forgotten corner of one of the worst neighbourhoods of Queens, about to deliver a large sum of her own money to some criminals that should be hung by their genitals, she breathed in and willed herself to calm her rattled nerves. She was scared for Andrea and, even if it pained her to admit it she was anxious for herself...but she pressed on.
Extending her arms sideways, purposefully separating herself from the briefcase full of money, Miranda inhaled shakily and walked as steadily as she could. As she bent down to place the briefcase in the middle of the entrance to alleyway, her cell phone rang again.
“Bring it closer, that’s too far away...”
Miranda leaned forward, picked up the briefcase and walked further into the alleyway. Some 20 metres away, to her left, a door opened and out came two men. They were very young, tall and thin but that was all Miranda could tell as their hoodies hid their faces and arms. One pointed a gun to where Miranda was.
She gasped.
The other was dragging Andrea out of the warehouse pointing a gun to her side. She looked weak, hurt and terrified.
“Oh God...” Miranda breathed out.
“Stop right there, bitch!” shouted the one threatening her.
Miranda did as she was told; her gaze fixed and locked on Andrea who was still blindfolded. Despite the intense glare of the sun and the distance, she could clearly see the inflammation on one side of Andrea’s face, the blood that still dripped from the slash on her eyebrow and the poor state the girl was in.
Breathing in, Miranda pushed aside the pain that image conjured up inside of her and allowed anger to take over; no one could possibly dare to hurt someone she loved without obvious consequences.
“Let her go! Here’s the money you requested!” shouted Miranda with a glacial voice.
The young hustler turned around and smirked, apparently amused at the bravado of the defenceless woman his gun pointed at.
“I’ll release her when I want to, you bitch! Who the fuck you think you are, huh? You think that because you have money you can boss everyone around?”
Miranda rolled her eyes, annoyed and bored; she knew boredom was a feeling she should not be feeling at the moment, especially with a gun pointing at her but she had heard those exact words so many times in the past that she just, simply, snapped.
Lowering her arms, the editor stared at the young man with contained wrath.
And started to walk towards him.
The young thug gasped, wide eyed, in disbelief. “Stop right there!”
Miranda mocked him, “Or what? You’re going to shoot, you daft twit? Go ahead, shoot then!”
The boy took aim and pulled the hammer of his old revolver hoping that it wouldn’t back out on him like it did the week before. “Stop right there! I mean it bitch! I swear I’ll shoot! Stop!”
Miranda took two more steps towards him but more importantly, towards Andrea.
Her will, unbreakable, as if possessed by entities that whispered her to go ahead, she did not stop.
“Stop or I’ll shoot her!” yelled the other kid who had kept silent till now.
“No! Don’t! I’ll stop! Don’t touch her, please!” shouted Miranda with horror laced in her voice as she stopped and raised her arms again.
“Not so brave now, are you?” said the one who had been pointing his gun at her the whole time as he approached her slowly. “I got you now, bitch”...
A myriad of sounds overwhelmed the editor at that instant; sounds that stirred everything that happened afterwards. Her eyes, fixed on Andrea, observed how the younger man turned his eyes to the entrance of the alleyway and yelled “Cops! Cops! The bitch called the cops, man!” and immediately after, he pushed Andrea with such force that the girl’s body impacted against a wall and actually bounced back, rolling onto the floor, screaming in agony. The other man’s head turned towards the alleyway and in seconds, aimed again at Miranda, still guarding her every move.
“Freeze, police! Drop your weapons!” yelled a police officer from afar.
The kid who had pushed Andy shouted, frantically, “Jonny, what are we gonna do? What are we gonna do?”
And the answer came soon enough.
“Shoot her and run...”
“What?”
“You heard me fucking idiot, shoot the girl and run!!!”
The boy took aim, pulled back the hammer of the revolver with his thumb and fired.
Time stood still.
A second before the shot, Miranda hurled herself on top of Andrea like a rabies-infected feral cat, protecting her from any more harm and distracting the boy enough to make him miss the fatal shot intended for the girl.
When the police heard that shot, three or four more shots were fired in the alleyway. Miranda winced in terror, held on to Andrea tighter in a full body hug and with her right hand; she held the girl’s head close to her own.
“You’re safe; don’t be afraid, I got you...I got you...” Miranda whispered to Andrea’s ear.
When the blasting sounds of bullets and yelling stopped, Miranda snapped her head a bit higher to watch Andrea’s face.
The girl was unconscious.
“No! Andrea! Stay with me darling, stay with me! Andrea!”
And at that moment she realized, as she slightly shook the body beneath her, that a gun shot wound was oozing a river of dark blood, right below Andrea’s right clavicle. “Oh God, oh God...” she whispered.
In seconds she raised herself slightly; again not quite aware if the shooting had completely stopped, took off her gorgeous Prada leather jacket, rolled it into a ball and pressed it onto the wound.
She finally had enough sense to signal for help and in seconds, once the cops had secured the area by wounding both thugs, paramedics came rushing in.
She stood up, helped by one of the police officers, as the paramedics quickly assessed the girl’s situation. In minutes, they established that Andrea’s situation was dire; the strong blows she had received on the ribs, had caused one of her lungs to collapse which in turned had made the young woman lose consciousness. To secure her airway, the paramedics quickly intubated her and brought her to the ambulance.
Miranda who was being treated for the minor abrasions on her knees caused by the rather blunt way she threw herself on the ground to protect Andrea, immediately stood up when she saw the gurney being taken away. “I need to go with her!”
She was helped into the ambulance while Nigel and Roy told her they’d meet her at the Presbyterian hospital.
“We are not going to the Presbyterian Ma’am, we need to rush her into the nearest ER and that one is Jamaica Hospital!”
“No!” Miranda shouted very loudly. “You’ll take her to the Presbyterian...”
“But Ma’am, she needs to be seen now!”
Miranda ignored the EMT and grabbed her phone. “Michael! Andrea is hurt and I need them to take her to where I can make sure she can get the best care, please...”
Seconds later, she passed the phone to one of the EMTs.
“Yes Sir. Yes, Sir. She’s critical but stable...okay...”
The paramedic handed the phone back to Miranda who glared at him. Immediately after, two officers came to the entrance of the ambulance and said to Miranda, “We’ll escort you, Ms. Priestly...”
She nodded.
She picked up her phone again and called the Chairman of the Board of Directors of New York Presbyterian Hospital.
“Yes Michael? Miranda here...”
Minutes later all was arranged and the ambulance, escorted by three police cars, was speeding down the highway towards the hospital. Miranda leaned forward and held onto Andrea’s hand unable to stop the tears rolling down from her eyes.
And from that moment onward and for the next few hours, all Miranda could do was pray.
“Eil na rafa na la...Please, God, please heal her...”
***
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