Chapter Text
The first thing Andy does when her plane lands is call Harrison.
Which, in hindsight, was a phone call that maybe should have waited for the sun to come up at least. Andy truly feels horrible for scaring the man the way she had, but she’s sleep deprived and desperate. Who could blame her?
It’s four o’clock in the morning by the time she gets through customs and clears the airport. She’s emotionally jetlagged and physically jetlagged and all round not a happy camper, walking up and down the airport entrance trying and failing to hail a taxi. She didn’t once stop crying on the flight home–even in her sleep–so she understands the taxi drivers and their hesitance in picking her up. Her eyeballs are dry, itchy and swollen, her hair is a matted mess and she’s pretty sure she’s about to disintegrate right there on the sidewalk when Roy finds her.
“What–what are you–” Andy stares uncomprehendingly at the man for an uncomfortable amount of time. “Did I die?” She asks fearfully. “Did the plane crash?” She gasps horrifically, covering her mouth with her free hand. “Are you here to ‘take me out’?”
“No, Andy,” Roy chuckles tiredly as he holds out a hand for her bag. The disgusting yellow overhead lights cast thick, sickly shadows down on him, enhancing the deep bags under his eyes and Andy feels awful that Hitman-Ghost-Roy is here to take her to heaven when he looks just as exhausted as Driver-Not Ghost-Roy. That’s not fair, he works long enough hours for Miranda, but now even God is keeping the worst hours possi—“Boss called to let me know what time your flight came in.”
Andy blinks, mouth hanging open as her spiraling thoughts are cut off by his admittance. “But I left–she fired me.”
“I just go when and where she tells me,” he shrugs, in that way of his. As if he knows she couldn’t truly leave and Miranda wouldn’t truly fire her. “And besides, as if we would leave you to find your way home on your own like this.”
Oh. Oh. Miranda. She must look as close to crying again as she feels because the older man, maybe her one true friend from Runway , takes three steps forward and gathers her close. Let’s her burrow in. Let’s her sob into his freshly pressed uniform at four fifteen in the morning smelling like stale coffee and used airplane oxygen.
“I left her.” She cries, big mournful gulping cries.
“Not forever.” Roy says, calm and gentle as if he knows .
It only makes her cry harder. The full force of her decision hits her now that she’s back in New York. Now that someone is holding her tight enough for her to fall apart. He hushes her gently, and while he’s no Miranda, she appreciates the soothing hand stroking her back.
“I can’t believe I left her. In Paris. Alone.” She’s still crying like she’ll never stop and can feel passerby’s eyes on her as he leads her to the car, but she thinks maybe she left her dignity somewhere over the ocean when she wept next to an elderly man who was kind enough to hold her hand.
“You’ll find your way back.” Roy says, the kindness in his eye is much warmer than she feels she deserves.
“Do you really think so?” She hiccups once he’s helped her into the backseat, only a little embarrassed when her hands shook so hard he had to click her seatbelt for her.
“I am as sure as the sun rises and sets everyday.” He pats her arm and closes the door as quietly as he can, making quick work of putting her pitiful luggage in the trunk. She’d already arrange for most of her Paris loot to be sent straight to Emily. “You get some rest, Andy. I’ll wake you when we get to where we’re going.”
She sleeps for a couple of hours, showers, cleans, forces herself to eat something and paces the apartment she’s currently sharing with Mallory, an assistant to the D.A. She fills the new empty space between her ribs with any and all distractions. She even tries to organize the pebbles by shape in the faux monstera pot plant that lives in the bathroom. Angsty and ansty to see the girl’s while she was still feeling brave enough to face them.
What an idiot.
She could possess all the courage in the world and it would never be enough to face the Priestly twins down with knees that don’t knock.
Harrison had agreed for her to meet them at the park near his home once the girls were out of school. They would never be friends, she thinks, but she’s dealt with him and the handling of his family enough to know that they want the same things. And sometimes he looks at her like he knows things too. Whether he thought it was odd that an ex-employee of his ex-wife's would want to say goodbye to his children, he’s kept to himself, Andy is glad to find.
It doesn’t make this easier.
“I’m coming back, you guys.” She says over Caroline’s tears. “I’m com–I promise, I’m coming back to you.” There is a hollow ache drumming through her whole body, it’s so strong Andy wouldn’t be surprised if it’s ricocheting through every life she’s ever lived. And echoing through all the lives' she ever will. “We’ll still–”
“Will w–we still be a galaxy? When you’re s-somewhere el–else, when you’re s-somewhere we can’t reach?” Caroline asks, sobbing around the fingers in her mouth.
“Yes, baby,” Andy whispers tearfully, holding the girl’s just a little tighter. “We could be on different planets, in different universes where the people have six eyeballs, four legs and two tails–we would still be a galaxy. I would never, ever go anywhere you can’t reach me or I can’t reach you.”
“Bu–but who’s gonna remember that Cassidy likes rainbow sprinkles a–and I like chocolate? Wh–who’s gonna know that I’m scared of thunder but love the rain or h–how Cassidy got that scar behind her ear when you took us trick-or-treating and she fell in a bush?”
“We will know. I will,” Andy says and knows it doesn’t matter. Not to them. Not when she’s still leaving. “I’ll still be the one to know about those things, and I’ll keep them all safe. I’ll carry them with me always.”
“You’re ours, Andy.” Cassidy says, still sitting a space away. She hasn’t let Andy touch her since she hugged them hello. Her eyes are red rimmed the same as Miranda’s get but she doesn’t let herself cry. The angry flush to her cheeks is almost enough for Andy to reconsider. “Ours.”
“I am.”
“You have to come back, you have to– the house is only warm when you’re here.” She growls. “That’s what Caroline means when you ask us how we are. She means you’re ours.”
“I know that, sweet girl,” Andy says wetly, forcing herself to take a deep breath, telling the girls to do the same, trying to reign all of their emotions back in. “I promise you, I understand and I will come–we’ll be warm again.”
Tears are slipping from Andy’s chin like rain and she does her best to wipe them but gives up, when they don’t stop.
“I need you two to–your mom is–” she stops and takes a moment to gather her thoughts, blowing a heavy breath that shifts her bangs like a tornado has swept through them. “When your mom comes home, don’t be dicks, okay? She’s gonna feel the cold a little more than we will, so don’t–”
“But she made you go away–”
“She really didn’t, Cassidy.” Andy stresses. “I mean it, she’s going to be tired and more than a little sad, so don’t be di–mean to her. Or yourselves.”
“Because of the menopause?”
“Partly.” Andy says sadly, laying her cheek against the top of Caroline’s head to match Cassidy’s own lowering gaze.
“Because you’re leaving her?” Cassidy says through gritted teeth but Andy can see her anger finally giving way to grief as her lower lip wobbles and her eyes fill. “ You’re being a dick, Andy.”
Andy nods, not denying or correcting the girl's attitude when it’s only the truth of how Cassidy is feeling. “Partly that too, so I need you to help her, because I’m not going to–because I can’t.”
“Andy, please–” Caroline sobs, the small fingers of her free hand gripping the edge of her jacket.
“You have my new number,” Andy says, waving Harrison over to collect his kids, if she listens to the girls heartbreak for a second longer she’ll crack. Crumble. Bury herself in it until none of them are left standing. “Ca–call me if you need anything at all and I will be there. I’m not leaving you guys forever. It’ll be a blip. Just a blip and I’ll be back and you’ll have so many amazing stories to tell me because you’re both going to be great.” She’s stroking Caroline’s hair as she sobs and squeezing Cassidy’s hand while she bites her lip and Andy will never forgive herself for breaking all of their hearts. “And you’re gonna rock the shit out of 6th grade. I love you guys, we’re a team. Always. And we don’t always have to see each other to be a team. Okay?”
Harrison is watching them and she sees when she looks up, him wiping a tear from his own eye, shocking her only a little. Andy and Harrison will never see eye to eye on somethings (Miranda) but they respect each other. And the girl’s, and he’s long since come to terms with where Andy fit’s in their lives. She nods him over again, squeezing the girls for a long moment before trying to dislodge herself from their grips, trying to hand them to the man.
“No, Andy,” Cassidy begs suddenly, pushing her father away before threading her arms around one of Andy’s and pulling. “Please, don’t. I’ll be good!”
Something hot like hell fire slices through her heart. And oh God, Andy thinks two seconds away from folding in on herself, this was a mistake . Coming here to say goodbye was a mistake. How could she ever think it would be anything else? This family that isn’t hers but is . How could she ever walk away from them?
She passes Caroline, close to making herself sick with how hard she’s crying, to her father completely but they’re standing close enough that the girl’s grip on the edge of her jacket stays. Who the hell is she to do this to these wonderful, incredible girls?
“Cassidy,” Andy moans woefully, lowering herself enough to catch her eye. “You are good–”
“I won’t ever ditch class again an–and I won’t kiss anyone ever, even when I’m old like you and mom.” Her little face is bright red. Even her ears and she’s crying like Andy has never seen a kid cry before, not even after Miranda’s menopause meltdown were they like this. She feels like the biggest dick to ever dick. “Please, I won’t be dumb or make dumb choices. I’ll never call you a nark again or–or tease you about cookies or–I’ll be not dumb, Andy but don’t leave. Please.”
“Cass, listen to me,” Andy says, blinking back tears and kneeling, sinking her knees into the cool dirt, grounding herself and holding Cassidy’s hot face in her palms, trying to stay calm. “Are you listening?” The girl’s wails quieten minutely and Andy tries to smile. “You’re so good, baby, you are inherently good. One day, you’re gonna ditch class again and one day you’re gonna want to kiss so many people and it’ll be okay, you’ll still be good,” she says, before gasping out a wet laugh at Cassidy’s queer look, wiping the girl's face with the her sleeve covered arm. “You’re going to and you’re allowed to make some dumb choices and mistakes, that’s love and that’s life–just, if you do, make sure you’re not hurting yourself or others in the process, it’s so easy to get swept up in–”
“ Andy ,” Cassidy sobs a little giggle, cutting Andy’s rambling rant off.
“Right, sorry,” she says, grinning sheepishly as she shakes her head. “You’re good , Cassidy Priestly. You and your sister–” she holds an arm out, folding Caroline into one side of herself and making sure Cassidy isn’t looking away. “You and your sister have all the best parts of your mom and dad, you’re gonna–”
“And you,” Cassidy stutters. “You’re a part of us too.”
And oh.
“I am.” Andy cries, kissing the top of Caroline’s head. “You have all the best parts of me too, so you have to believe me when I say that I’m coming home, okay? Because I couldn’t ever leave you behind.”
Cassidy’s eyes narrow and her breathing is still uneven but she isn’t crying as heavily anymore. “You’re coming home because we’re a galaxy.”
“We are.” Andy says firmly.
“I don’t want to say goodbye.” Caroline whispers from where she’s hiding in Andy’s neck. “Please don’t make me say goodbye.”
“We’re not. We couldn’t ever.” Andy says, rocking the girl who’s now burrowed into her. “You can’t say goodbye to galaxies.”
“Galaxies are forever.” Cassidy says as she let’s Andy gather her to her chest as well.
Walking away from this little family who somehow became hers is the hardest thing Andy Sachs has ever done. Harder than leaving home to live with a boy she’d known for six months. Harder than leaving a boy and living alone in a city that isn’t hers. Harder than walking away from the most more woman she’s ever met.
But it helps, to know she has a choice.
To know that she’ll be walking towards something.
To know that she has a galaxy to come home too.