Chapter Text
PTSD.
You always hear about it being associated with soldiers that come home from wars with stories of the horrors they survived. However, you never expect it to be associated with yourself. I certainly never thought about it.
When everything happened several years ago, it was like the world stopped and it entered utter chaos. It was like my work place was a circle of hell. It wasn't, not really. The event that took place? That... that was most definitely hell. It was something that I wished no one had to see and I had hoped to never see it again.
Unfortunately, I see it in the back of my mind from time to time. And occasionally, something triggers an episode and I suffer through the shock, chaos, and feelings of sympathy for the person who caused the chaos, all over again.
I never know when an episode will happen. And never did I expect to have an episode in the middle of a photoshoot.
One month before the episode:
I walked into my therapist's office for the umpteenth time. After several years of therapy for my normal depression and then for trauma I sustained a few years ago, and I am, for the most part, able to cope well with my PTSD. This appointment was to determine whether or not I will need more counseling, or whether or not I need to keep up my weekly bi-weekly sessions.
By now, everyone at the office knows me by name. To prove my point, the receptionist immediately greeted me when I walked through the door.
"Hey, Andy. How's it going?"
I smiled at her, "Oh you know, work, go home, sleep and repeat," I pause, chuckling softly, "I'm doing great, thank you."
"That's good to hear. Let's see, your appointment with Theresa is at 9:45?"
"Yes, ma'am."
I take the clipboard from her hand as she says, "Alright, go ahead and have a seat and Theresa will be out shortly."
At every appointment, I have to fill out this sheet of paper. The paper asks questions about my emotions, what I feel, and what I want to accomplish as far as treatment outcomes. While it is necessary, I do find it to be somewhat tedious and if I am honest, a little frazzling.
Just as I finished filling the paper out, my therapist calls me back to her office. "Andy, how are we doing today?"
"Hey, Theresa. I am doing good but I am also very nervous."
"That's okay, we'll discuss everything in my office."
-DWP-
"Okay, Andy. Tell me how you are doing and why you are feeling so nervous?"
I tucked some hair behind my ear and sighed. There is so many things that are on my mind; Miranda, the photoshoot happening soon, my family situation, and my financial situations. "Where do I start?"
"Wherever you are struggling the most."
"Aside from what we talked about the last time, my latest concern is the photoshoot we have next month. We are doing a photoshoot at a race track and there will be gas, possible fire and I don't know if I am capable of being there."
Theresa wrote something down on a sheet of paper. "What about this photoshoot, has you so worried?"
"I have improved so much and I am hoping to gods that nothing triggers a flashback. I don't think I can handle another breakdown over it."
After writing a few more things down in her notepad and sighing softly, Theresa spoke. "You know Andy, breakdowns are bound to happen on occasion and there's not much you can do to stop them. However, you can find ways to cope and manage said breakdowns. Do you remember the coping strategies we've talked about over the last few years?"
I sniffled a little before answering her. "Yes, ma'am. Close your eyes, take deep breaths; in through your nose and out through your mouth. Imagine a box: you take the negative thoughts, sights, and vibes, and you put them into the box; then you take the box and put it on the highest shelf you can, so it is hard to reach. There's also, the concept of thinking about your favorite places, things or, people."
"Very good. I want you to keep up those practices."
"When will I be able to see you for my next appointment?"
"Well," Theresa spoke, "I have a work conference to go to, and it lasts a week. After that, as you know from previous conversations, I'm getting married and I'm going on a rather long honeymoon."
I tried not to seem disappointed as I responded, "Okay."
"Don't be so disappointed Andy, I will make sure you are scheduled as soon as I get back. If it's an emergency, you know you can text me or if you can't for some reason reach me, you can contact Kelly. She is always there for you if I'm not able to."
With a few more words, I left and started the rest of my day off.
Day of the photoshoot:
My day starts as any other day would, I get off of the subway and head straight to the Starbucks across the street from Elias-Clarke. The first task of my busy days are to get Miranda's center-of-the-sun hot coffee. As I walked into the door, I caught the eye of the head barista, Hailey. She knew what would or could happen if Miranda doesn't get her coffee and immediately got to work. After grabbing the too hot coffee, I jogged across the street, walked into the building, and made my way to the elevator and up to Runway's floor.
As soon as I reached the outer area of the office, Emily grabbed the coffee out of my hand and whisper-yelled, "Bloody hell, why are you late? Miranda will be here in five minutes and her desk needs to be ready NOW!"
I just rolled my eyes, I knew I was running behind schedule, but there is no way I would ever tell her why I am late. Very few people know what I have been through and out of my co-workers, Nigel is the only one who knows. Therefore, he knows why I will be nervous and jittery. After quickly shoving my jacket into the small closet behind my desk and tossing my purse on my office chair, I got to work on Miranda's desk.
I didn't have time to meet Miranda at the elevator, but I am thankful that Emily stepped up to do it.
From a small distance I heard Miranda say. "Emily, where's Andrea? Has she gotten lost on her way to and from Starbucks?"
"No, Miranda. Andrea is here, she was running a little behind schedule, because she was having a last minute meeting with Nigel to ensure that everything will run smoothly at the photoshoot later."
Gods bless Emily.
"Very well," she said as she reeled off the tasks that had to be completed before we left for the shoot.
As we pulled into the parking lot of the raceway, I started to fidget and was steadily growing anxious and restless. My nerves were getting the best of me and if I were to have a PTSD attack, it'd take attention away from the photoshoot. I hated being the center of attention and if an attack happens, attention is fully on me. I don't want that to happen.
I was pulled out of my train of thought as Miranda laid a hand on my forearm, "Andrea, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, just a little nervous to be at a raceway."
I'm not entirely sure if she bought the small lie, but her walking away was welcomed. I hated talking about being anxious and my mental health in public.
The first hour of the photoshoot went great; weather was sunny and a hot temperature of eighty-five, and provided beautiful natural lighting for the photos. It was when we were fifteen minutes into the second hour of the shoot that things went wrong.
There were five models in the pit-stop, dressed as a sexy version of the pit crew. Four of them were stationed at each tire, 'changing' them and the fifth one was 'pouring' gas into the tank of the racecar.
After five minutes of taking photographs, the model holding the gas can, dropped it and fuel spread quickly around her. The mere smell of it brought a flood of unwanted memories- ones I'd rather forget.
One moment I was standing watching everything unfold, the next I was catatonic, my memory flashing back to a terrifying, heartbreaking incident. Then everything went black.
I was on my way to work at the supermarket a mile down the road from my apartment. I almost called in because I had a terrible sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something bad was going to happen.
Forty-five minutes into my eight hour shift, all hell broke loose.
The store was busy, as it always is around holidays such as Memorial Day. The cashier I was bagging groceries for, myself, and our customer were conversing about what our plans were for the weekend; the customer was going to their property on the edge of Lake Michigan, the cashier was going to have a family cookout, and I unfortunately, volunteered to work the holiday weekend because the holiday pay was too good to pass up.
As we were getting ready to checkout the next customer, a worker from a different department jumped up on a register, hollering about how there was a political divide and we needed to make an immediate decision on our stances before the world ended. I remember thinking, 'This is gonna be one of those videos where a worker quits in a funny way.'
Let me tell you, I was so incredibly wrong.
I was only half listening, as I reached into a hidden compartment of the register to fish out something that had gotten caught and it turned out to be warm, squishy feeling cheese. I went to walk past the kid as he jumped down after being coaxed down by a manager, so I could put it into the salvage bin.
I saw him take a clear bottle of cloudy liquid from the pocket of his coat. As soon as he opened it, I could smell the kerosene wafting from the bottle. As the manager was trying to calm him down so he could think rationally, I went to walk around him when he poured the bottle of kerosene down the front of him. He pulled a lighter from his pants pocket and flicked the switch, lighting himself on fire. I was barely a foot away from him when he sent himself ablaze. I came within twelve inches of being lit on fire. I could have died if it went any worse than it did.
All hell broke loose as a departments fifty and one-hundred were called. People pulled out phones to record everything. Cops, firefighters and paramedics were called, and if me memory serves me correctly, a swat team was also called.
The kid who lit himself on fire, ran towards a supply room. He was screaming, crying, having a very bad mental break down. He tried to dive through the small window in the door.
He didn't make the dive the way he wanted to- couldn't even if he tried and landed on the floor. I don't know what else happened aside from water type substance being dumped on him. All I remember was watching the cops hand cuff his very red, raw, and burned wrists together. The look on his face was one of torment and the anguish of not wanting to live with his demons and mental health issues.
After they had him cuffed, and his jacket and shirt cut off, they pulled him up into a standing position. The poor kid's chest was the color of a lobster after it has been cooked, with his skin peeling off and blisters everywhere.
The managers handed out cards that had various ways to contact grief counselors if we felt the need for one; and many of us did. While some of our staff were sent home, the rest stayed. I could have went home, but it would have done more harm than good. I needed to stay busy instead of being alone.
The day after the 'incident', as it was dubbed, I called and made an appointment with a therapist who after a couple of visits referred me to one who specializes in traumas such as mine.
I sat up with a start. I don't know where I'm at. There's no lights on in the room, aside from a small desk lamp. I start shaking when I see someone sitting in the armchair beside the bed. Whoever it was seemed to be staring, as if they were trying to figure out how to help.
After a few moments of heavy silence, the figure stood up and made it's way over to the bed. They sat down on the edge of the bed before slowly moving to sit beside of me.
"Oh, darling," the voice whispered softly.
It's Miranda. I am safe.
She wraps her arms around me and gently brings both of us to a position of laying on our sides. I remember sobbing and Miranda's sweet, reassuring words before I fell asleep.
-DWP-
I woke up surrounded by Miranda's arms and scent. My face was resting against her collarbone and she had a hand in my hair, the other on my lower back, holding me close. As if she were protecting me from the terror I had experienced. Her comfort was a godsend and I appreciated it more than she'll ever realise.
Now that I am a wake, I feel the need to use the bathroom. However, I'm not quite ready to leave Miranda's embrace. I also have no idea where I'm at- that means I have to wake-up the peaceful looking Miranda. I didn't want to do that...
I was brought out of thought when Miranda sighed softly and whispered, "I know you're awake, Andrea. Is there anything I can get for you?"
"Point me in the direction of the bathroom?"
Miranda gestured behind her "The ensuite is just beside the armoire. "
I silently made my way to the bathroom to relieve myself. Feeling better after using the bathroom and splashing cool water in my face, I walked back in to the bedroom and got back under the soft and warm covers.
Miranda laid on her side and I turn to face her. She must have seen the questions in my eyes because she asked, "You are probably wondering what happened and where you are?"
As I nodded yes, she explains how I went into a catatonic state and then collapsed. Miranda tilts her head to the side a little bit. "Do you know what could have caused this to happen?
I nodded and took a deep, shaky breath. After telling her about how I was right next to someone as they tried to hurt themselves badly and how I almost came close to being lit on fire myself. By the end of my story, I once again find myself in Miranda's arms. Her embrace is comforting... and if I am being completely honest- like home.
"Darling, why haven't you told me this? I would have taken Emily if I knew you might have an episode with your PTSD."
I look at her through my tears and see that she too, has tears in her eyes. "Be..because people end up walking on eggshells around me when they find out. They treat me differently and I don't like being treated like I'm a mentally fragile person."
"That's understandable, Andrea, but you do realise that it's not something to be ashamed of? Regardless of anything, I, along with my girls, Nigel, Emily, Serena, Roy and Cara will always be there for you. We may not understand whatever it is you are going through, but we shall endeavor to try our best to help."
"You really mean it?"
"Yes, you silly girl." Miranda says as she hugs me gently. "Now, how do you feel about takeout?"
"Wait! Where am I?"
"My house in the Hamptons. I figured a neutral, calm setting would be the best place for you to rest and recover. Nigel is finishing up at the shoot."
"Oh. Miranda?"
"Yes, Andrea?"
"Why are you doing this for me? Why care so much about an assistant?"
"You were always more than a mere assistant, Andrea. That being said, let's get you fed and hydrated before we continue this conversation."
"Yes, Miranda."
"So, Andrea? Tell me about your feelings after what just happened, and if you're ready, your feelings surrounding me."
I loosed a breath as I looked into her eyes; filled with concern, kindness, and something that might be love. Her eyes could be an ocean and I would willingly drown myself in it.
"My feeling surrounding what just happened are mixed. I feel embarrassed, freaked out, kind of numb even though it's been years since it's happened, and I just want to have comfort surrounding me. Miranda, you bring me that comfort."
"An-" I interrupted her by gently laying a finger against her lips.
"My feelings for you? They're so all-encompassing and I wouldn't have them any other way. You're soft and smooth skin, crystalline blue eyes, sharp features, silky silvery-white hair," I paused as I looked down at my hands that were fidgeting, "Your personality is witty, determined, stubborn, but also loving, kind, and caring for those you love- though it's a side you don't show too often, except to your beautiful daughters. I am not sure if my feelings are fully returned, but if they are? My life will be on it's way to being perfect."
"I've only just admitted this to myself just after Paris, but I have fallen for you; your kind and caring personality, sharp mind, eyes the color of honey... I have fallen in love with everything that you are and will be."
It was silent for a few moments before, Miranda gently put her hand to my face and cupped my cheek. "Andrea..." she trailed off.
And then? Then, the love of my life kissed me. It was everything a kiss should be; gentle, soft and sensual, mixed with the feeling of love.
What had become one of the worst days of my life, had ended with one of my deepest fantasy coming true. Miranda Priestly loves me.