"Sans Toi" Part V" (The Devil Wears Prada Fan Fiction)

Pairing: Miranda/Andrea
Raiting: PG-13 (Some violence and strong language)
Words: 4,047

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. 

~~~

“So this is it guys, unfortunately there isn’t much more that I can tell you because this is all I really know...”

“Do you know what’s gonna happen to you?” asked William from the back.

The editor’s eyes closed for an instant and his lips pursed, “...actually -he exhaled-...I don’t...”

“When is this going to go on effect..?” asked someone else.

“Like I said, the deal was closed yesterday evening.  I was told that some drafts have already been made regarding the reorganization, now, in terms of when will we all get our notices of whether we go or we 

stay...I’d assume that should happen before the end of the week...”

Andy let her face fall onto her open hands. 

“I’m soooo fucked...” mumbled Andy under her breath.

Elias-Clarke publications had just purchased The Mirror.

'This is surreal...’

The words kept bouncing inside her brain.  How many publishing groups operate in New York?  What about America?  What kind of really bad luck was that, huh? She rubbed her eyelids as a migraine decided to lodge itself in the back of her head. 

This was not good.  And she might as well, start looking for another job.

Now.

With the short meeting over, everyone went back to their crammed desks.  Gloom took over -especially- among the youngest reporters who gathered together on the small terrace, to smoke away their anxieties.  Andy watched them from her desk but being a non-smoker she couldn’t join in the self-pity party.

She sighed and again she gave in to slight desperation. 

“And just as I was starting to come to the surface...damn!”

“Sachs!”

The voice of her boss brought her back from her misery.  She picked up her notepad and headed to his office.  “Close the door...” he muttered when she stepped in.

“You’ve been summoned...”

Andy’s eyes opened up in confusion. “Excuse me?”

The gentle man extended his arm and hand and gave her a sheet of paper.  It was an email from the ‘downsizer’ herself -Miranda Priestly -asking her for a meeting the next morning at 11 am in her office.

“Like I said...you must have done something right...”

***

The next morning Miranda arrived very early.  Donned in Ralph Lauren Collection, Miranda looked stunning in beige metallic linen pants and jacket and a see-through silken white blouse.

She really was a vision. 

Hours before, she had awoken feeling jumpy and skittish.  She lay in bed for another half an hour trying to lure herself back to slumber but found it impossible.

Thoughts of Andrea bobbed endlessly behind her closed eyelids.  Images from the past came rushing in; the girl’s lips the colour of ripe raspberries, her baby soft skin...those impossibly dark eyes that always reduced Miranda’s soul to nothing. 

For a few minutes Miranda indulged in the few instances where she had seen Andrea happy and out of all the memories she kept of the former assistant, those were the most precious ones...they had been so rare. 

Miranda opened her eyes and a strange weight settled on the centre of her chest; how little happiness she brought to Andrea. 

How little happiness she brought to others in general, she realized.

Hissing, she pulled the covers to the side and got out of her ample bed.  Five minutes later, clad in her workout clothes, she went downstairs to burn out some of the excessive energy she seemed to be carrying around since the moment she had sent the email convoking Andrea to her office.

“It isn’t that easy Nigel...” whispered the editor as she leaned forward on the light table, examining some slides.

“Of course it is...”

“Nigel...”

“Miranda...why are you so stubborn?  You want Andrea close to you, somehow...-he paused thinking he knew exactly how his former boss and old time friend wanted Andrea to be but he declined confronting Miranda with her own feelings; she would have to get there on her own-...so giving her a chance is the best way to do that...”

Miranda kept on looking at the slides.  “Again...like I said...it isn’t that easy...or you forget what happened?  She made herself quite clear...”

Nigel sat on the other stool around the light table and observed Miranda.  Something inside him just clicked.

Miranda was afraid Andrea would reject her once again; bringing the young woman in could potentially end up in yet a new rejection and for Miranda one was more than enough.

He gently placed his hand on her forearm.  She snapped her head up taking her eyes away from the slides.  “It doesn’t have to end the same way, you know..?” he said, softly.

Her piercing blue eyes locked on his kind browns. 

Hers talked of fear and apprehension. 

His, of understanding and possibilities.

He rubbed his thumb on the fabric of her jacket with enough pressure to make the gesture reassuring.

“It is completely up to you.  You can make it or break it.  It is within your power and I really wish you’d understand that if you give her those exact things you want to receive, you will.  Just give her the chance and I promise you, not only will she not disappoint you...she will surprise you in more ways than one, Miranda.  She only got to see one side of you...show her the other...those of us who have that chance...are still here with you...aren’t we?”

She stretched her body in an impossible angle over the exercise ball and held her breath willing her muscles to obey her as she recalled the feelings of panic and hope that Nigel’s words had evoked in her. 

After that conversation she finally sent the email.

And now in her office, she paced her anguish and fear away as she stared down the clock on her desk.

She would see Andrea today.

And she would take yet, one more leap of faith.

For Andrea.

For herself.

And by God she hoped she could jump long enough...high enough.

And with enough faith for the both of them.

***

Andy could not sit still on the reception area of Runway.  Most people passed by and waved, smiling, to which Andy could only absentmindedly wave back as her eyes would not peel off Barbara, the receptionist. 

Andy looked at the clock; 10:45 am sharp.

And the phone rang, Barbara picked it up, muttered a very soft, “Yes, of course Ms. Priestly” and nodded to Andy.

“You know where it is...go right ahead, Andy...”

The brunette turned around and picked up her black handbag and quickly, perused her outfit.  All done, she went on.

To the mouth of the lion.

Once again.

***

Miranda observed her ex-assistant closely, in silence and from afar as she stood in front of Emily’s desk for a second.

She looked...older. 

No, not older...confident.

No, not that either.

Beautiful.

Funny -Miranda thought- and wondered if that was the way Andrea used to look while she worked at Runway and Miranda had simply been too busy to see it.

“Miranda...” whispered the young woman.

Lord...how had she missed that voice.

***

Andy could not utter any other word.  Still, despite the months that had elapsed, the extraordinary presence of Miranda overwhelmed her sensorial input mechanisms making her incapable of nothing else but take the woman in.

Fully.

“Andrea...”

And the voice she did not know she had missed so much, made her shiver.

***

“I take you’ve been well...” asked Miranda, uncertain.

“I’ve been...well yes...thank you, Miranda...” answered Andy, unsure of her words.

“Good to hear, Andrea.  Let me move on to the reason I asked you here today.  As I’m sure you have been informed of by now, Elias-Clarke just purchased The New York Mirror...”

“Yes, we were told yesterday afternoon...”

“Yes...well...-Miranda got up from the chair and walked towards the window suddenly realizing that she was much too close to the girl-...I asked you to come to my office because...-she inhaled sharply-  ...contrary to what you think of me-“

“You’re still angry.” It was neither a question nor anything Andy had intended to come out loud.

The editor locked her eyes on Andy’s. “Andrea, what on earth are you talking about?”

Realizing -much to her chagrin- that she had spoken out her thoughts, she decided to face the music.   “About the letter I sent you in Paris and the time we saw each other on the street a few months back...This is what this is all about, isn’t it?  I knew that sooner or later you’d call me back to your office and let me have it...” said Andy dejectedly as if she had no other choice but to accept the punishment she was sure was coming her way.

Miranda looked at her in confusion and with some degree of pain.  The words written in that letter had broken her heart many times over and it pained her to discover that Andrea still believed so little of her.

Her feelings on the subject, however, were a topic not open for discussion.

She remembered the reason behind the meeting and pressed on.

“No, no...this is really not about that, Andrea.  Please allow me to continue...” Miranda said firmly with an edge in her words.

Andy nodded understanding the tacit warning in that voice.

Miranda chose to repeat her last words.  “As I was saying...despite the appalling concept you have of me, I have made the decision to extend you a rare courtesy...”

Opening her mouth again she inhaled as to continue but at the last instant, declined to comment any further.  Instead, she fired up some questions.

“Do you like what you do in The Mirror?”

Andrea did not hesitate, “Yes, very much...especially now...”

“Why ‘now’ as opposed to ‘always’?”

“Because I had a slow start doing obits and social notes and general interest pieces which-“

“Obviously were not *that* interesting...” added Miranda who unknowingly attempted to instil a bit of humour into the conversation. 

“Well I wouldn’t say that...-started Andy in a somewhat defensive mode-...they were good pieces, I mean, you know th-“

Andy stopped when she realized Miranda’s eyes had locked to hers with a less than amused glance.

“It was just a joke, Andrea...I meant that the assignments were less than...inspired...”

The editor fidgeted with the collar of her blouse and paced next to the window, buying time.  She felt foolish after the failed joke attempt.  ‘Focus...’ she thought to herself.

You want to stay on with The Mirror? Yes or No?”

“Yes Miranda, I do.  I however, understand that this may not be poss-“

Miranda’s index finger was raised ordering her to limit herself to answering the questions.

Second warning.

Andy stopped and nodded.

“Very well... -Miranda continued, blue eyes pinning the younger woman to her seat-...I read your piece on the homeless health crisis...it was quite good, very well documented with solid facts, unfortunately...” she drawled as she motioned to sit across Andy.

“It is not enough because you still have to downs-...”

Miranda banged the desk in exasperation.  “Will you let me speak Andrea, for the love of God?”

The loud thump snatched Andy from her babbling.  “Sorry...”

“I guess some things just never change...-she added with exasperation-...Anyway, as I was saying...unfortunately the paper has been losing money for quite some time and downsizing is inevitable.  I already made a list of those that will need to go and regrettably, you’re in it. ..”

Miranda let the words linger for dramatic effect. 

Andy looked defeated, confused and hurt. 

“However...I decided to give you an opportunity to secure your current position...”

“You have?” asked Andy completely surprised and confused. 

This was unexpected.

Miranda glared at her again although admittedly, with much less irritation this time.  “So...you will have two weeks Andrea, two.  Come up with another good article; something solid, well researched and interesting...timely...and if I think it’s worth it, you’ll stay with The Mirror...”

Wide and smiling, Andy’s eyes looked the brightest Miranda could ever remember.  If this had been another time in another life -far away from this one- she would have taken that face in her hands and would have kissed those glittering eyes for a long time. 

But she sighed knowing perfectly well that this was not such life.  She decided to taunt her former assistant. 

“So now when you’re supposed to talk you don’t say anything?”

Andrea felt mortified.  “Yes...uh...you always did have that power over me...” she answered with a sheepish smile.

Miranda heard the words and suddenly images of Paris flooded in.  The moment of weakness in the hotel room, the car ride...Andrea’s departure.  Something ached inside at the same time as something else warmed up as she registered the hidden meaning of what Andy had so hastily muttered.

Once again though, she pushed all that aside; there was a far more pressing issue to attend to.

“So Andrea...are you up for this assignment?”

“Of course, Miranda, of course I am...”

Miranda inhaled feeling suddenly quite relieved.  She knew the girl would not disappoint.  “So the matter is settled then.  I shall expect this full length article in two weeks’ time...that’s all...” she finished.

Andy stood up, taking her cue.  “Thank you Miranda I...I don’t know how to thank y-“

“No, no...no need for such formalities...Just do your job and do it well...-she stopped, breathed in and continued-...do not disappoint me...”

“I won’t...” said Andy with her chin up, shocked and beside herself at the fact that Miranda; the same woman she had ran so desperately from just a few months ago, had just given a clear lifeline to save her career.

She smiled gently and just as she turned, Miranda’s voice caught her again.

“Oh and Andrea..?”

“Yes Miranda...?”

“Do not mention this to anyone.  Your editor knows of course but please, be discreet.  I do have to terminate twenty other employees and ten reporters to whom I am not extending this...opportunity so I am counting on your discretion...”

“Of course, Miranda...thanks again...”

Miranda waved her hand, silently dispatching her as her heart pounded. She was done but before her longings gained the best of her; she turned around, physically terminating the  bridge that still tied her to the girl; not seeing Andrea was a great way to convince whatever was pounding so loudly inside of her, that there was no 

future with the young woman.

“So that’s that...” she mumbled to herself and she breathed in, regaining her composure. 

***

A week later Miranda was sitting in one of the smaller conference rooms with John Hagerty; Andrea’s boss and the newly appointed Editor in Chief of The New York Mirror.  Miranda opened both bottles of Pellegrino without even realizing what she was doing; what she thought  would end up being a boring and daunting task, was turning out to be quite enjoyable.  With John’s help and input, the need for downsizing became less pressing and out of 30 people she thought she’d have to fire, only 15 were indeed, terminated. 

This was their third working meeting and it had started four hours before.  John stood up and gazed at the white board full of scribbles they both had written, as Miranda poured the water on both glasses without giving it a second thought; like if they were old friends trying to pull a new project together.  Miranda looked up and unknowingly, she raked her fingers thought her hair several times.  John turned around and observed her for a moment.

“No wonder Sachs thinks the world of you...” he muttered.

An invisible fire took abode in Miranda’s belly at the words uttered by the kind man seated across from her.  She pretended to be fully concentrated on the task at hand, copying some figures off the board unto her working notebook. “Oh...does she..?” she asked in the most nonchalant way her acting abilities could conjure up.  

“Yes, she does.  The first few days I’d sit with her for lunch you know, the new kid on the block syndrome, 

and I’d ask about her time working for you and she’d go on and on ab-“

“No doubt that Andrea had much to say...I just find it hard to believe she’d think the world of me, as you so kindly put it, John...”

“Well...she did and she did go on and on about you this, you that, Runway this, Runway that...I have to say though, I didn’t understand back then but now...”

“Don’t say it John...Stop right there...”

He chuckled and grabbed his glass of water and drank a bit. 

Forty five minutes later, they finished for the day.  Miranda stood up and picked up some papers and her notebook.  “By the way John...have you heard from Andrea this past week..?”

“Uh...yes, I did but briefly though; she only stopped once by the office to ask me a couple of questions...”

“Have you any idea what the article might be about..?”

“No, she did not want to spoil the surprise, she said...”

“Hmmm...” was Miranda’s only answer. 

***

Finally back at her apartment, Andy stepped out of the steamy shower and looked at her reflection on the mirror.  Her shorter hair looked very weird and very uncomfortable; on purpose she had not washed it in a few days trying to blend in with the rest of the junkies that gathered every night at the corner of Randall Avenue and Drake Street in Hunts Point, the Bronx. 

She’d decided to write something on the situation of heroin addicts in the city and the drug distribution in New York as a whole.  She had met some of them while researching for her piece on the homeless health crises and since many homeless also happen to be drug addicts, Andy believed it would be an interesting topic to write about.

The way Andy figured it out it was simple; she’d blend in the crowd, pretend she was new on the scene -just experimenting- and in the process, she’d try to get information on how the “bundles” of drugs ended up in the hands of these young men and women that surrounded her every night.  To that purpose she’d spent many hours in Union Square just hanging out, until she met a young, thin man named Charles who went by the name of Birdie among the junkies’ crowd.

Birdie was tall, lanky and covered in tattoos and piercings.  His slight menacing looks were more for show than for anything else because he was quite a gentle if not somewhat soft kind of boy.  Barely 20, Birdie had been living in the streets of the gigantic city for three years now and had originally come from California. 

The first night ‘on assignment’, Andy had started talking to him more, hanging with him and he had showed her the places where to go to secure the next fix.  That is how she had ended up in Hunts Point.  After getting her first bundle, she stuck it on her jeans’ pocket and dragged Birdie back to the city and onto a McDonald’s for some food.  After they both ate a burger and finished their sodas, the pair split. 

He needed to shoot up and she, she needed to go back home and sleep.

As she dressed in a couple of t-shirts, ragged tight jeans, a hoodie sweatshirt and an old New York Giants’ jacket, she thought about another addict named Marisa and wondered if she had made it alright after a fight broke at Drake Park, the night before.  She prayed the girl had made it out okay. 

And she remembered to take her cell phone with her this time.

Just in case.

Unfortunately not for a moment Andy had stopped to seriously consider the potential dangers this self-imposed topic could really entail.

She would find out soon enough.

***

The copper-coloured SUV stopped at the corner.  Its spinning rims shinning against the neon of the pizza parlour made it look even bigger.

Three young men in jogging suits descended from the vehicle and entered the pizzeria.  Not saying anything to the young man up front, they just waved and kept on walking to the back of the establishment.  They reached a door, opened it and walked inside.

“Finally!  The three stooges! What took you morons so long?” yelled one of the men sitting at a round table playing cards.

“We had a flat tyre...”

“God only knows where you took that car to...” said an old man, sitting in one corner of the room.

“So what’s happening?  Did you find out who’s the snoop this week?”

“Yeah...it’s kinda weird though...not any of the usual suspects...” said one of the young men to the group of older men playing cards.

“And how’s that, Einstein?” asked one of them with a particularly sarcastic edge on his think Bronx accent.

“Take a look boss...”

And he handed him a sheet of paper with three pictures printed in it.

Of Andy.

The man put his cards down and studied the pictures.  Something seemed familiar to him.  “You said she’s the one who’s been asking all those questions..?”

“Yeah...”

“Hmmm...whack her...”

“But boss...”

“I said whack her...I dunno who she is but she sure ain’t just a junkie; junkies don’t go around asking the questions she’s asking...”

“But...”

“You deaf or something?  Whack her!”

The young man retrieved the pictures and nodding to his friends, he motioned for all of them to leave.

The older man took his chair again and picked up his cards.  “Oh and Jonny?”

“Yeah?” asked the young man stopping and turning around in front of the door.

“Tonight! Ya hear?  Tonight!”

“Yeah boss...I heard ya...”

***

Miranda looked at her wrist watch and was surprised at how late it was.  She had gotten distracted with The Book and some figures John had faxed her earlier on and had lost track of the time.  She stood up from her chair and climbed the stairs to her children’s study; it was time for bed. 

As she expected, the twins had fallen sleep on the sofa as they watched a movie.  She smiled at their very distinctive personalities that could be seen even through the thin veil of slumber; Cassidy was sprawled completely on the sofa while Caroline was curled up on the floor, next to Patricia who upon Miranda’s arrival had raised her head, yawned and wagged her tail slightly.

Miranda kneeled and caressed Caroline’s cheek gently. “I’m awake” slurred the girl, pretending not to be asleep.  Immediately after, the editor stood up, walked towards the sofa and did the same with Cassidy who turned around facing away from her.

“Come on Bobsie...time for bed...” she whispered.

Five minutes later, she leaned forward and kissed both of her already sleeping daughters on their foreheads as they had decided to camp out together for the night in Cassidy’s queen size bed.  She pulled the sheet and the thick comforter and tucked it around their necks to keep them warm.

“Good night my angels...Elo’him  yevareh otah”

She smiled one more time and left the room. 

Turning off the lights as she along her home, she finally climbed the stairs to her bedroom.  She opened her robe and placed it on its regular place in her walking closet.  She then pulled the covers of her bed and sat on it grabbing her blackberry and checking for emails or missed calls.

There were none.

She stretched her arm, placed the phone on the bedside table and turned off the lamp.  Yawning, she leaned back as she pulled the covers on her body.  She looked up and tried to locate the moon remembering how she- along with her brother Samuel- used to look for it every night from their bed in the tiny house they all lived in East London when she was not even five years of age. 

That was one of Miranda’s earliest memories.

So she looked up and after a second of craning her neck, she found a Turkish moon looming over the skyline of the city. 

It glowed a yellow and serene light. 

Miranda sighed and thought of Andrea as she had so many times in the past few days.  She hoped that wherever the girl was at that very moment, she was fine.

She whispered, “Elo’him yevareh otah Andrea...”

And yawning one more time, Miranda closed her eyes and fell asleep.

~~*~~