Normally when Andy was on their floor everyone was nervous. Today it was too quiet. Hughes took charge. Sandy kept distance. He had not seen Andy so upset in a long time. Or maybe ever. Sandy was guilty. He had lived with the guilt all week. He was still not sleeping. He was very anxious. He was stupid. He should not have helped Lawrence. He should have called the aurors. He should have let him die!! It would have been easier to deal with Josie. Lawrence attacked Andy again. It was all Sandy's fault. He could never ever tell her. He felt sick. Her husband was dying. Sandy tried to help Hughes. He hurried through patients. He snapped at the trainees and got them to work harder. What could he say? It did not matter. His best friend needed support. His best friend had no idea he was involved. He would close his mind well before they spoke. Andy could never find out.

Sandy waited until Andy was alone with her husband. He brought tea and her favourite cigarettes.
"A-Andy. H-here." He could not stop stuttering. Not since Lawrence escaped. He looked at her husband. Then he looked at his friend. "I am so sorry. H-how are you holding up?" 

"A-Andy. H-here."

From her exhausted staring at the near corpselike body of her husband, Miranda was brought back to the present by her friend’s voice. Somewhat glazed over eyes snapped away from the pale, almost grey face to meet Sandy’s concerned expression and the cup of tea held out to her along with a packet of her usual smokes. She didn’t take them, only stared, tired and unsure what to say.

“I’ve been better.” The witch muttered in response to how she was. Her chair had been pulled close to the bed, Ignan’s cool lifeless hand gripped in her own. Very few people had ever seen her truly vulnerable but Sandy had. Sandy had seen her when her first husband had died two floors below.

“Your magazine better not write a word about this.” Her voice broke as she spoke and she closed her eyes, trying to keep the emotion at bay. “Cursed Head Healer loses second husband in her own hospital.” The tone was bitter, angry.

Sandy put the tea and the cigarettes down. They were in reach of Andy. He looked at his feet. No they would not write about the Professor. Or Andy.
"It is n-not your fault." He said to his friend. He touched her shoulder. He wanted to give her comfort. But she needed space too. "He is in the best place. W-We have lots of t-treatments we can try." He wished he could stop stuttering. It did not sound very reassuring when he stuttered. "It is the aurors fault. If they d-did their jobs. S-sorry. It's not fair. But it's not your fault. D-don't blame y-yourself A-andy."

If Mira had have been more alert, more interested in paying attention to her friend and colleague, she would have noticed the increase in his stuttering. As it was, she barely registered what he said, much less the way he said it. She felt the hand on her shoulder but did nothing, said nothing.

She wasn’t supposed to blame herself. It was laughable.

“I let them in, Sandy.” Since the attack, Miranda had played the events over repeatedly in her head. The door opening to Hannah Bombay stood there with Ignan’s cousin. Johann had appeared drunk, delirious. It was a symptom of overuse of sleeping potion. Any healer knew that. And any healer knew how most would never refuse to take someone in, especially family. Hannah Bombay had played on Mira’s humanity, bringing her uncle in a polyjuiced form that the witch would never question.
“Ignan made me promise not to let anyone in again and I let Lawrence Musgrave stroll straight into my living room and kill my husband.” She did finally look up at her old friend for a moment. “What is the point in being a healer when I can’t even save my own husband?”

Sandy wanted to throw up. He was so anxious. He had to do something to help. He let go of her shoulder. He crouched. He did not like to tower over his best friend. Not when she was upset.
"W-we would not live if we w-were safe all the t-time." Sandy said. "W-we could die in our sleep. Any day." He looked down at Andy's hand. It was clutching her husband's hand. "He is not dead, Andy. Hughes has good thinking. We have sent owls to all hospitals who can help. You are a truly great healer. But we work together." Sandy sighed. He drummed his fingers on his bent knees. "I wish I could say something comforting. Fix this. It is not fair for you. He makes you happy."

Fully aware that Sandy was trying to reassure her, Miranda couldn’t give in to it. She knew his focus was helping her, he’d been working on a fix as well today. But Miranda had spent hours researching, searching desperately for some hint of how to save Ignan’s life. With Hannah Bombay it had seemed obvious. The heart had stopped instantly. It needed to be electrified back to life. But everyone of Ignan’s organs was slowly failing.

“It doesn’t matter how many hospitals are contacted, there is no recorded case of survival from this.” Her voice sounded calmer than before as she looked her friend in the eye now he was crouched beside her. She could deal with facts. It was emotions and loss that tore her apart. Facts were easy.

Extremely uncharacteristically, Miranda reached her spare hand to Sandy’s, taking it in her own and gripping it tightly. She pressed her lips together a moment, watching him with watery, tired eyes. “Words mean nothing. But you’re here. You’re trying to help.”

Sandy pressed Andy's hand. He wished it was helping. He looked her in the eyes.
"I want to fix things." Sandy said. "You do not deserve this." He looked over his shoulder. Sandy sighed. "He does not deserve this. We have to think positive. There is still a little chance. He might be able to hear you." He squashed her hand. He looked back at her. "How did he get in your heart?" Sandy asked. He wanted to make Andy think of happy things. She would not stop thinking about her husband. He understood. "Why does he make you happy?"

Sandy’s question was a personal one. it was on that, even in her state of heightening emotions and grief, Miranda wasn’t eager to answer. Her first instant was the tell him to mind his own business and back off. But her second thought reminded her that she’d never even considered the answer. Ignan made Miranda happy; there was no doubt about that. He made her feel safe, secure, loved. Right now he made her feel lonely and on a precipice. But why did he cause those feelings?

Her gaze took in the wizard lying in the bed, pale and dead looking.
“He gave me hope.” she frowned. It sounded as if she was talking in the past tense. Ignan was still alive. He could still survive this. He had to survive this. “After Jon I never thought I’d be able to find someone again that I could just be with. He doesn’t want to change me.”

Miranda paused as she considered and the tiniest of smiles formed on her lips. “He can’t cook. He snores and he’s a grumpy bastard. But he’s there with a glass of wine and a friendly ear when I get home.”

Sandy smiled. He was happy Andy had found someone to love. It was not fair that this happened to people she loved.
"Wonderful." Sandy said. "All we want in life is for someone to accept us. Just the way we are. And share their life with us." Sandy smiled more. "And drink some of the wine. You share a bottle? You must love him." He rubbed Andy's hand gently. "Can I get you something? You must be tired. Are you warm enough?" Sandy carefully touched Andy's forehead. He used the back of his fingers. "He will tell us off if we do not look after you too. You are not alone Andy."

Sandy was sweet, caring. He’d always been a good friend and Miranda had always been a poor one, never truly acknowledging their friendship. Despite having known the wizard since they were 11, she’d never truly opened up to him or thought to invite him to her home for just a coffee and a chat. He was probably her only real friend and yet he hadn’t been invited to Kaldfjord to meet her new husband. Sandy was a part of her professional life; she didn’t enjoy mixing the two.

But now professional and personal had collided and it didn’t matter how many times Sandy told her that she wasn’t alone, Mira knew she was. The only person in the world who truly understood her was lying in a curse induced coma, possibly to never wake again.

“Don’t fuss, Sandy.” Miranda couldn’t help but grumble. She didn’t need him to check she was warm enough or had slept enough. Her hand was pulled away from his and she folded her arms, sitting back in the armchair.
“The only thing you can do for me is not to let him die.” She wasn’t sure she’d cope if he did.

"S-sorry Andy." Sandy said. He let go of her hand. He got back on his feet. "I will leave you two alone. I-If you n-need anything." He nodded too many times. His stomach was lead. He wished he could turn back time. He pulled the curtain back. He walked away.

-END-