The evening is pleasant and the campfires outside, where the colonel’s soldiers sit and keep warm with the help of Ogden’s and Emma’s coffee substitute, gives the façade of the large house that once was my home, a cozy appearance. Someone laughs quietly, and I can see that the soldiers are doing well, having been fed and for feeling relatively safe behind Ogden’s warning system.

“How old were you, when you lived here?” Miranda asks behind me.

I rarely flinch these days. If I do, it’s because I’m either exhausted, or injured. Now I have to steel myself not to tremble when she’s suddenly so unexpectedly close. It’s not just because it’s her, the woman who’s changed the way I have lived my life that last few years, and the future as well. It’s because I normally have trained myself to never allow anyone to sneak up on me. Ever. 

Now my guard seems to be down, and it bothers me that I didn’t hear her approach. Perhaps this is the reason why I sound almost impolite when I mutter my answer, “Almost fourteen. Emma was seven. I moved to my own hut a few years later.”

“They threw you out?” Miranda sounds astonished.

I continue without turning to look at her. “No. Not at all. Ogden and his wife had expanded their collective with a lot of people, and we started to get crowded. I moved and we built more houses. Like the log cabin. Together with the old cottage, and thirty some huts and cabins in the area around us, it makes for a safe place. They clear new land constantly, for dwellings and growing food and crops.” I won’t say it aloud, but Miranda won’t find a better starting point for her new society.

“But your little room is still here.”

It’s not a question, but I answer anyway since I know Miranda wants to know—or she wouldn’t bring it up. “Yes. In the beginning I thought it was unnecessary. They needed it as storage or as a bedroom for someone else. As a matter of fact, Annemarie and Ogden agreed with me when I told them this, but that’s when Emma got really upset. She slammed her fists into the kitchen table and scared all of us. She demanded that it would always be kept ready for me.

“So, you would always return.” Miranda comes closer and now stands to my right, close enough for our shoulders to touch. “She’s a strong young woman.”

“She’s had to be—and fast. But that’s the way it is for all the ones that were kids when the birds came.” I want to increase the distance between us, but it would be admitting that her closeness affects me. Just the thought of sharing a bed with her makes me sweat. How the hell did Ogden maneuver me into this situation?

“You were a child too.”

“Maybe. All I know is that I stopped being a child after a few months. How old are you?” I ask brusquely.

“I was definitely not a child when the first reports came in, letting us know that what we called the avian flu had mutated, gone airborne, and highly pathogenic. It went through several mutations over a very short time.”

That doesn’t answer my question, but it’s still interesting to hear about how a high-ranking officer in the military had received such information and been part of the authorities’ fruitless efforts to save the population. “Where did you live back then?” I ask.

“Before the birds? Outside Portland, but I’m originally from Seattle.” Miranda’s voice is suddenly much lower, and I turn around because now I have to look at her. She is watching the forest, arms folded across her chest, and it’s not hard to see how tired she is. “We maintained order for six months with a constantly diminishing force. Eventually I was left with about fifty soldiers and about as many civilians. Dakota was one of them. He had lost it all, just like the rest of us, but he was my pillar of strength—and he still is. Without him—” Perhaps Miranda realizes that she tells me too much, or that she’s being too personal, because she hesitates. “I don’t think I’d be here today if he hadn’t been there on my side and helped me keep discipline going.”

“Did you have a family?”

She turns to look at me for a few seconds before returning her gaze to the trees. “I wasn’t married if that’s what you mean. But I lost my sister and our parents before I had the chance to even try to go back to Seattle. Then there were no more chance to travel, as there was no one to drive the busses, trains, or fly any planes.” She huffed. “Of course, the authorities had already cancelled most of the means of transportation as a way to mitigate the spread of the virus. I received a constant influx of reports, which meant that Dakota and I knew early on that this was a global catastrophe. We drew up specific plans for the foreseeable future and more loosely keep plans after that.” Miranda turns toward me again. Her eyes are like ice, and I can hardly meet them without losing my breath.

“It took me a while to dare to leave our apartment,” I say, my voice unsteady. This is the first time in a very long time that I volunteered to give any information about myself. “It was the food situation, and the loneliness that made me dare to. A strange memory, since I’m so particular about my solitude these days.” I don’t want to say that I’m still grieving and struggling with the knowledge that Mom’s body is still wrapped in a rug on the balcony. 

“I can’t even imagine being thirteen and alone when the world comes to an end,” Miranda says and puts a hand on my shoulder. The touch is light, but so unexpected that I flinch and take a step back. She lets her arm fall down to her side.

“I’m sorry…I…I…” Without being able to find the correct words, and thus sounding like a complete idiot, my voice gets struck in my throat. When I try again, I have no time to edit my words. “I’m not used to being touched. Except by Emma, and she’s like a kid sister.”

Miranda smiles and her eyes narrow as she tilts her head. “Uh-huh. And I don’t inspire any sisterly feelings, you mean?”

Now I don’t know what to say. No matter what I try to produce, it will either sound as if I’m coming onto her, or as if I’m barely coherent. I clench my hands and force myself to at least look calm on the outside. “No. You know you don’t,” I manage eventually. I want her to stop looking at me with eyes that darken because of unknown reasons. Where is the strong, commanding colonel that made it so easy to keep at a distance, and distrust? The woman standing before me is just that, a woman, a human being, and the fact that she manages to singe my skin by just touching my shoulder, is worrisome. I have made it these last fifteen years by keeping to myself, not counting the last three years with Zoya. Not even Emma and Ogden, who I love, has gotten under my skin completely. They know that’s partly why I come and go. 

Now Miranda stands here and looks at me as if she can read my mind, my everything. Something’s happening between us, and I want to leave her where she stands and hide in one of the small barns that are located in the center of Ogden’s place. She can have my bed all to herself—

“Andrea?” Miranda interrupts my thoughts and grabs my arm firmly. “You look like you’re about to run off into the woods at any moment. Let’s go to bed.”

Stunned at my compliance, I follow her as she walks toward Ogden’s house. Small lights up the windows, discreet enough not to be seen from the forest. During the nights, it is only the guards’ campfires that light up the area. We go inside and Emma gets up from her chair by the dying fire.

“I’m glad you’re here.” She nods. “Ogden has gone to bed and it’s time for me as well. We’re expecting several of our hunters tomorrow and I need my rest as there’ll be a lot of meat to process.”

“I understand. Good night.” I hug her.

“There’s hot water enough for the two of you in the bathroom. Ogden made sure.”

“Bathroom with a shower?” Miranda’s eyes widen. “Did I understand that correctly?”

“Yes. Andy will show you.” Emma offers a small smile and then leans in closer to me. “Sleep tight, Andy. And don’t push her away.”

“What do you mean?” I whisper and hold her a bit longer.

“Don’t play dumb. It’s me you’re talking to. She scares you, but as far as I can tell, she’s genuine. Don’t let go of her.”

I shake my head when I let go of Emma. She can’t possibly mean what she says or know anything at all about Miranda. Perhaps she can read my tone of voice, and movements well enough to draw her conclusions? Now when Emma frowns at me, I know I have to do something to calm her down or she will say something right before Miranda. I wink discreetly at her and nod, which makes her smile broadly. Emma bids Miranda good night and walks up the stairs to the attic, which reminds me of how we used to climb the ladder when we were younger, in the old cottage. As usual, I hear her lock her door several times.

“Triple locks. I completely understand that” Miranda says as we head for my little space under the stairs. Zoya follows us and I have to smile when I watch her find her small mattress on the bottom shelf at the foot of the bed. She worms her way in and turns in a full circle twice, before she curls up. 

“She needs all those locks to feel safe.” I press my hand to my stomach as I know exactly why, and I don’t want to think about it. 

“I can only guess what’s happen to her.” Miranda motions to her face, indicating the location for Emma’s scar. “She’s admirable.”

“She is.” I don’t offer any details a I remove my weapon’s harness and the jacket and stow them next to my baseball bat. I place a Glock under one of the pillows. You learn the hard way to not forego such habits. I remove my boots and cargo pants, and then stop, as Miranda hasn’t moved.

“If you get undressed,” I say awkwardly, “I can show you the shower and you can go first.”

“Thank you.” Miranda looks pensive, as she unbuttons her uniform jacket. Hanging it on a hook behind the door, she then removes her combat boots and pants. 

I try not to stare. She’s thin, pale, but still stunning. I snap my eyes away, but she’s already noticed my gaze. I curse my warm cheeks for, and then open the door to the narrow hallway. “Come. I’ll show you where it is.”

Miranda nods and follows me to the other end of the hallway. The bathroom is one of the spaces where Ogden insisted on it being spacious. His reason was that the people using it needed to stay clean, that was a given, but also see it as a place to truly experience peace and elevation. 

I can tell that Miranda didn’t expect a large shower. Her eyes widen and she blinks rapidly.

“Are you all right?” I step closer as she really looks distraught.

“I haven’t had access to something like this in…a long time.” She grips my hand and clings to it for a moment. “I don’t know how to thank Ogden for this.”

“Ogden has found a way to heat water using solar power or the wood furnace, and it’s one of the luxuries he’s adamant about. This, and good, healthy food. It’s how we all stay as healthy as possible.” I squeeze her hand gently. “This, together with Doctor Apple’s presence later on, will be fantastic.” 

Miranda turns to look at me. “That’s the first time you have volunteered something positive about the plans directly to me.” She raises her free hand to cup my cheek. “That makes me…very happy.”

I blink at the fluttering sensation in my stomach at her words. Why does the idea of making Miranda happy cause such a visceral reaction? “Well, it’s true,” I say and attempt a smile. “Even I understand that.”

Miranda’s eyes soften. “You understand a great deal. Don’t think I don’t see how you always scan your surroundings and pay attention to what people say or do, no matter the situation.”

Her words are almost as unexpected as the fact that she still holds onto my hand. When she suddenly tugs me close, by slipping the hand that was just warming my cheek even further, around my waist. 

“How about we save Ogden and Emma some of the hot water and shower together?” Miranda’s impossible words are matter-of-fact, and she looks entirely calm.

“Together?” I shiver. “Sure. Saving hot water is a good idea.” What am I saying? It’s not like I’m a prude, or shy, and I’ve cleaned myself in the company of others many times, out of necessity, but…this is Miranda. This is the beautiful colonel that takes my breath away and who makes my body respond in ways I didn’t know it could.

“Well, then.” Miranda lets go of me and begins taking off the rest of her clothes. 

I stare for a few moments, but then get a grip and do the same. I’m fully aware that I look very different without clothes than fully dressed. I’ve often cursed my full breasts as they need to be kept in place with sports bras to make it possible to run and fight. Now, when I take off my bra, they seem to enjoy their freedom enough to harden the nipples in the cool air. Miranda casts a glance at me, and when it locks onto my chest, her eyes grow dark and narrow. 

We remove our last pieces of underwear at the same time, and I hurry to get the shower started and adjust the temperature. “Forty degrees? Ogden installed a thermostat.” I turn to look at Miranda, and, again, I can hardly breathe.

“Sounds heavenly.” Miranda comes up to stand right behind me. 

I set the thermostat and then extend a hand to make sure we’re not going to cook ourselves. The water’s perfect and I step aside to let Miranda go first. She eagerly walks into the shower stall and lets the water hit her. A moan escapes her lips as she turns her face into the spray.

I hesitate to join her, since her expression is one of such bliss, but then she reaches out and takes my hand, pulling me next to her. The warm water nearly makes me cry in relief when it appears to wash off more than dirt, sweat, and grime. It sooths me and I can hold back a whimper.

“I know,” Miranda murmurs. She places one of her hands at the small of my back. “Don’t worry about trying to hide how you feel. You always do. You are such a steadfast woman, but you also need this. Some comfort in a very personal way. As do I.”

Not sure how I dare, and why I do it, I let my forehead fall onto Miranda’s shoulder. I don’t cry, or at least I don’t think so, but the warmth from her, and the water, is becoming dangerously close to peeling off too many of my protective layers.

“Andrea? You asked me if I’m all right. Now I have to ask you the same. Are you okay?” The hand Miranda’s pressing against my back strokes me in small circles.

“Yeah.” I don’t want to move though. “It’s just…it’s been a while?”

“Since you had a shower like this?” Miranda tugs me closer, making me stand directly under the shower head.

“That too.” I don’t know how to describe the rest of what I’m feeling.

“Ah. Same here.” Miranda’s hands are suddenly slippery, full of soap. “Mm. Homemade soap of the best kind.” She lathers herself up, hair and everything, and then she shocks me completely. “Allow me?” She makes the words a question but doesn’t wait for my answer. She begins washing my hair and then moves down, her hands gentle as she spreads the soap against my skin. When she reaches my upper back, I know exactly when she comes upon my scars. She stops in midmotion.

“Who?” Miranda asks quietly.

I know better than to dodge the question. “Loxi gang. Five years ago.”

A low, reverberating growl emanates from Miranda’s throat and then she continues to wash my back.

I fully expect Miranda to stop when she’s done with my back, but that turns out to be wrong. She doesn’t touch me intimately, naturally, but she still washes my front, deftly sliding over my breast, stomach and then down my legs.

When she gets up on her feet again, she turns around. “Can you do my back?”

Unlike mine, her back is smooth, pale, and beautiful. I take the bar of soap and lather my hands. As I slide them over her back, it’s as if time slows down. Somewhere inside, I know that I caress rather than clean. The way Miranda’s breath catches suggests that she can tell the difference as well.

I’m not brave, or bold, enough to go any lower than the dimples just above her ass, even if that’s where my hands would go if I allowed it. Miranda turns around again and simply holds out her left arm to be where we stand just at the edge of the spray of water. I don’t have to be asked twice. More soap. More caresses. The difference now is that she looks at me and makes it impossible for me to look away. I lather her other arm, and then I crouch before her and wash her legs. She parts them, and I could try and tell myself it’s in all innocence, to give me space, but I know better. 

When I get to my feet, she pulls me into the spray while she takes care of her white, short hair. Seeing her with her hair all sleeked back, which enhances her sharp, beautiful features, nearly stops my heart. 

Miranda runs her hands over me, arms, legs, and my back, to make sure I’m free of suds. I do the same with her and then we turn off the shower. I give one bath towel to Miranda from the shelf and grab one for myself.

“That has got to be the best shower I’ve had,” Miranda says and sighs. “And the most seductive.” 

“Yeah?” I tie the towel in a knot above my breasts, and watch Miranda do the same. “I…I’m rather clumsy when it comes to, uhm, stuff.”

Miranda invades my personal space again as she frames my face with her warm, slightly damp, hands. “You’re not clumsy. Just a little shy, perhaps.”

Shy? Hardly. “I’m not experience enough to not be clumsy. I just never felt anything like that—like you.” That’s such a rare thing for me to say, I feel I’m having an out-of-body experience. 

“You do just fine.” Leaning in, Miranda brushes her lips across mine. “I think we better to go to bed before we get cold again.”

“Okay,” I whisper as all I can think of is Miranda’s satiny smooth lips against mine. It only lasted for a moment, but she would give anything for her to kiss me again—or vice versa.

We gather the last of our clothes and pad back to my room. There I dig out two pairs of old sweats and give her one of them. “They’re probably a bit big, but they’ll keep you warm.”

“Thank you.” Miranda eyes the faded pattern of a Star trek ship on the front of the sweatshirt, and then pulls it over her head. I immediately mourn the vision of her skin. She drops the towel and pulls on the pants and then turns to me with a questioning look on her face. “Andrea?”

I flinch and then pull the set I found for me on. I hang our towels on hooks by the door.

“I want to be on this side of the bed,” Miranda says and pats the closest part of it. That means I will be inside of her by the wall. I don’t like being crowded and locked in like that, but as I’m in known territory and she isn’t, I let her get her way without any protest.

I take a deep breath and climb onto the bed and under the covers as I scoot close to the wall. I get a feeling of deja vue as I’m transported back in time. The bed is perfect and has familiar, soft, old sheets. There’s no other place, not even in my own hut in the Hudskills, where I sleep as comfortably and safely as here. 

At first, I’m on my back, but I realize that I take up too much space like that.  Not sure if I should turn to the left, away from Miranda, or right, which would turn me into her, perhaps even face to face. I tremble as an onset of nerves travel through me. I wish now I had remembered to bring a glass of water with me to the room. Just as I’m about to get up again to fetch one, Miranda lifts the covers and slips into the bed. She is with her back toward me. I turn to face the same reaction she does.

“Comfortable bed,” she says quietly. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“Eh. No problem.” I close my eyes hard. Why am I sounding so rigid?

“I hope you’ll be able to sleep.” Miranda reaches back and pats my hip.

Again, her touch makes me flinch. I press my back against the wall. My body’s response to her, in the shower, and now here, in my bed, is nothing I’m used to. A heavy kind of heat, originating from my lower abdomen and spreading up to my chest, and down my legs, makes me tremble even more than before. I think of the kiss, no matter how soft and quick it was, and I know I’d do anything if she would repeat it at some point. I try my best to breathe evenly, to not show her how she affects me.

Fat chance, apparently. She turns her head and looks at me over her shoulder. “Do I make you nervous, Andrea?”

“Not at all,” I reply, which is of course a lie. “Just not used to it. Sharing a bed.” Fuck. I sound like some damsel in destress, to quote Ogden.

Miranda manages to turn around and now we’re face to face. Her white hair has almost dried and shimmers in the faint moonlight that seeps from the small window above us. “Neither am I. That’s the price I pay for being in command. It’s lonely.”

I study what I can make out of her face. She doesn’t look away, and the moonlight makes her look ten years younger. “You never said how old you are.” I try for a smile and feel reasonably successful.

“Forty-nine.” Miranda pulls the covers up over her shoulders and shudders. “It feels as if I should be older sometimes. All these years traveling and fighting. Perhaps it is because I can never truly relax. I don’t know. Right now, I feel safter than I have in years and still…” She quiets and closes her eyes hard. “I apologize. It wasn’t my intention to burden you with my personal feelings.” She starts to pull back now it’s my turn to place a hand on her shoulder. I can hardly believe that I have the guts to, but something in her voice makes me disregard my onset of nerves.

“Make good use of the increased sense of safety here and try for some relaxation, then,” I say and try to sound matter-of-fact. I can sense that she might pull back into her shell anytime and it can’t happen. I may have misunderstood exactly everything in the shower, and afterward, but I know I feel I’m freefalling whenever she looks at me. When we’re talking with each other, I don’t know, like real people, not just like the ones we are when hit with the harshness of our reality, that’s when I know she exists properly under my skin. What’s more, I’ve allowed her to, willingly. If she goes back to being only Colonel Miranda Priestly…

Panic presses against my ribs and I swallow hard. “There’s a lot of us here to offer protection. 

Miranda lies down again, still turning toward me. She puts her hand against my cheek. “You have done nothing else but protecting me, my soldiers and civilians, since we happened upon you in Remerton.” Her voice is husky and saft at the same time. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met, before or after the birds, Andrea.”

Neither is she. I haven’t let anyone new into my heart after Annemarie, Ogden, and Emma. I was only fifteen when I swore not to do that until I’d found Theo, or, heaven forbid, proof of his death. No one or nothing will ever get in the way of my promise to Mom. I tell myself that letting Miranda get close isn’t contradicting this at all. She has promised that she and a few from her until will help me. Surely this means I can also allow her to distract me a little. There can’t be any adverse effect on my ultimate goal just because I can’t look away from her.

Miranda slides her thumb along my bottom lip, and I stop a whimper at the last moment. Without being able to stop myself, I press my lips to the pad of her thumb. I hear her gasp. 

“Andrea.” She captures my hand and kisses my fingers, all of them. “There’s a lot I wish, and a lot less that I can allow myself to do…or wish for. Do you understand?”

“I’m not sure.” I can feel her lips against my fingertips still. 

“Surely I’m not the only one who feels this pull between us?” She grabs my shoulder gently and shakes me. “It can’t just be me?” She sounds equal parts decisive and pleading.

And I don’t want Miranda to ever have to plead when it comes to me. I know this is a utopian way of thinking, but Miranda makes new, untried thoughts form. “It’s not just you,” I whisper huskily. “If I knew how, and wasn’t sure I’d make a food of myself, I’d ask for more kisses.” I do my utmost to not curl up under the covers. I need Miranda to know that I mean what I say.

“Just kisses? Well, right now, in this day and age, that’s still an amazing gift.” She gets up on her elbow and I end up on my back as I can’t stop looking at her. “Am I understanding you correctly, Andrea? Do I have your consent to kiss you?”

“Yes.” I’m proud of myself for being able to get at least a single word past my lips right now.

Miranda leans in closer and presses her lips to mine. This isn’t like the kiss in the shower. This is probing, searching, and leaves me breathless. Just as I think this must be the most wonderful kiss and it can’t get any better, Miranda’s tongue is in my mouth. Instinctively I respond, meeting it with my own and I know this is a real kiss. This is how it’s supposed to be. Her taste, her hot mouth, and the way she devours me, it’s all perfect and I know this kiss will forever change me. I wrap my arms around her neck and pull her down on top of me. 

One kiss morph into the next and it feels as if we explore each other’s mouths forever and yet not long enough. When Miranda finally pulls back, even if it is just to draw in deep gulps of oxygen, I feel like crying.

“Dear God, Andrea.” Miranda nuzzles my neck, and I can tell she’s as out of breath as I am. “I…how…” She seems unable to speak, and I take that as a sign that it’s not just me who is so strongly affected.

“Come.” I feel emboldened enough to pull her onto my shoulder. “Just for a moment.”

“A moment.” 

As it turns out, Miranda’s body only takes a minute to grow heavy against me. I hold her close and feel her wrap an arm around my waist. Soon her hand finds its way in under my shirt and Miranda’s hand settles against my back. “Mm. Yes,” she murmurs. “Warm.”

I’m beyond warm, and nothing makes me happier right now than keeping Miranda from being cold. I tuck the covers around us and pray the night will be peaceful. That way, maybe even I can relax.