Chapter Text
one
Out of all the people… Out of everyone in this entire city, Andy had to spot Miranda in the crowd.
That indescribable feeling whenever she was in Miranda’s presence gripped her senses, rendering her a bubbling mess of conflicting feelings. Her heart was pounding as she stood still, feet stuck to the floor on the other side of the busy street, simply staring. She’d just left the New York Mirror offices with a job, part of it thanks to a letter of reference sent by Miranda Priestly herself, and now… there she was, as if summoned.
Andrea Sachs is, by far, my biggest disappointment. If you don’t hire her, you’re an idiot.
(How did she even manage to become so high on the disappointment list?)
Miranda did nothing but stare right back, hidden behind her sunglasses, poised outside the town car’s open door. That should’ve been enough warning to Andy, to just move along and pretend nothing happened.
She couldn’t help herself, however. It was like her hand had a mind of its own while her head screamed at her to stomp the urge away.
She couldn’t help it.
She waved.
Andy was aware there was a smile on her face, too. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, perhaps. Besides, Miranda had done something so big for her, despite everything, despite her hasty departure (and what a mess that was). It was difficult to grasp that they wouldn’t actually see each other that often (if at all) anymore.
Miranda didn’t even answer, obviously. Instead, she disappeared from her view, entering the vehicle, and Andy shook her head. This was it. Fleeting glances and meetings.
Andy left Runway, so she wasn’t sure what she’d expected. She… left Miranda, too, so she didn’t know— Didn’t know why her stomach was fluttering so much after a chance encounter. Didn’t understand why she wanted to cross the street, demand that Roy open the door, and explain why she left—
No, she thought immediately, adjusting her messenger bag on her shoulder, and resumed walking before she did something ridiculous.
There’d be no acknowledgement, and that was fine. Now she could put this all to rest and remember her time at Runway as one of her many job experiences. Yes, that was all there was to it.
Perhaps she should send an apology note anyway.
Something to think about.
.
.
two
Andy started taking the scenic route to get to the Mirror not a few days later.
Meaning: she would let herself walk through 6th Avenue, dodging the rushing people as she hid her face inside her coat when it got too cold for her nose to bear. And then, she would enter the Starbucks closest to Elias Clarke, closest to Runway, closest to… Miranda.
This was foolish behavior, Andy knew. (The kind that Miranda would hate immensely, probably.) But when she was feeling particularly daring and alone and just a bit miserable, (still filled with a sense of loss) she went there before or after work.
Maybe what she really needed was to find a therapist.
It was never Emily who picked up the coffee order, probably because of her cast, it was three times the same blonde woman, it was at least two other assistants after that.
And all this only in her first few weeks of work in the Mirror.
Walking inside Starbucks, she sighed, hands deep in her pockets. Refrained from even thinking of no-foam skimmed lattes with an extra shot, instead focusing on the blissful smell of coffee and pastries — there was nothing like industrialized expensive unhealthy coffee if it meant you could pretend you knew something about the inner workings of Runway.
Andy didn’t have anything better to do with her days, that was the real issue here.
Well, her job was to help someone more experienced than her with research, but that was the extent of her work for now, really, and she’d done her part for the next big article. She didn’t have anything better to do.
Standing in line, she cast her gaze around, trying to spot the assistant of the day waiting for the infamous order. Huh, none as of yet… Andy glanced at her watch, 7:38. Which meant Miranda would be due to arrive in the office any time now. And… the assistant should be here ordering.
Maybe Andy was the late one today?
Why did it matter, anyway? She had to stop this, she really did.
Runway was in the past. Miranda was in the past, even if that caused a sharp ache in her heart for even entertaining the thought.
(You see, recently she’d actually stopped to consider that… maybe there was a deeper meaning as to why she missed Runway so much.
She didn’t actually miss Runway per se, but Miranda Priestly? Wow, she missed her a lot.
She missed her soft voice, her perfectly coiffed hair, her expressive gray eyes, her carefully worded insults and the way she would sometimes look at Andy, like Andy had something to offer, like…
I see a great deal of myself in you.
Dangerous words.)
A few minutes later, she had her large mocha in hand and an onion bagel for later in her messenger bag. Pushing the exit door open, she barely brushed past the entering patrons.
“Oh, excuse me,” she said once she got outside and her shoulder brushed against… “Roy?”
There was a flash of recognition and a smile sent her way. “Andy! Hope you’re well. I should...” He motioned to the door with his thumb. “Double parked and all.”
Andy nodded, while inside her head she was screaming because why was Roy here and not one of the assistants?! “Good to see you,” she said anyway, smiling back at him and pretending she wasn’t hearing the blaring horns coming from her left that signified someone was being very shitty to the traffic.
Something that Miranda’s drivers were all very known for.
“Of course. See you around, certainly,” he replied, gave her a pat on the shoulder and disappeared inside the establishment.
Andy finally turned to the road’s direction, spotting the silver town car the next second. The open window showed Miranda, phone glued to her ear, shifting her head to avoid Andy behind her sunglasses as though she hadn’t been staring the moment before.
It seemed even people like Miranda could be caught in the act.
Bad thoughts, right there.
Andy waited. She wasn’t sure what for, but then Miranda ended the conversation and… looked right at her again.
Andy awkwardly waved (with the hand not holding her coffee, might she add), smiling like her heart wasn’t pounding.
Just like the last sudden encounter.
Sometimes some predictability was good amidst the unpredictable, why not.
She wanted to grab those sunglasses and throw them in the middle of the street, because she couldn’t see Miranda’s expression, and that was just tragic.
But surely that was a… tiny smile on Miranda’s lips? It was hard to tell from the distance, but surely! Worse than the sunglasses was the window rolling up and removing her view from Miranda entirely.
That woman was evil.
And Andy had a huge crush on her.
.
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three
It had been just past two weeks since she’d started working at the Mirror when Andy waved at Miranda for the third time.
(Not that she was counting. Well, she wasn’t specifically counting the amount of waving she was doing, since that was dumb and she really should stop greeting Miranda like that.
Andy was counting the amount of times they met after Runway, however.
Of course she was.)
The fast pace of the newsroom would never compare to Runway’s definition of a fast pace. So far, Andy had mostly been assigned to write obituaries and fluff pieces; she even helped Teresa with the crossword section last night — nothing really stressful and that would require her to be quick.
She almost craved that back, which was… bad.
Runway couldn’t be in her head anymore, she’d closed off that page in her book. The moment she sent that possibly-forever-unread apology e-mail to Miranda’s personal account, she’d left it—
“Where is it?” she muttered to herself, her hand pushing back her bangs from her eyes as she placed aside the university memorabilia box.
She let out a sigh. The apartment looked so… empty, now that Nate was gone and in Boston. She’d come to terms with it, really. (No.) It was just strange.
Andy would have to move out, too. There was no way she could keep paying for this overpriced apartment or, worse, no way she was going to let her parents know she was kind of struggling at the moment. (Especially because she’d used most of her Runway salary to pay for a plane ticket to New York following her hasty, immature decision to leave.)
Where was Andy going with this?
Oh, right, the pen.
Andy needed that pen. She also needed her notebook, her Polaroid photo, the small bag with a bunch of makeup supplies, the latest Moleskine book journal she’d been using—
She actually knew where those things were, she just… didn’t want to face the truth. But that truth was there, in the nervous pit of her stomach.
Those things weren’t here because she forgot to pick them up at Runway.
Since, you know, she never wrote a proper letter of resignation or carried out her two weeks. Not that she cared about that specifically. She cared about Miranda. Miranda’s welfare. But Andy left, simple as that—
Not so simple now, huh?
She needed those things.
(And not just because those were indirectly given to her.)
***
The following day, her lunch hour had her at Elias Clarke. Andy was disheartened to realize that it took her only fifteen minutes to walk there, despite her very slow… glacial pace—
And now she was thinking of Miranda before even stepping into the building.
It would have been easy enough to get a guest pass once she evoked Miranda Priestly’s name, especially because Jared from Security still remembered her. Her thoughts had spiraled so much before she fell into a fitful sleep that Andy considered an Ocean’s 11 operation as a plausible idea. She’d steal back her own stuff— items and no one would even see her in the building. All this so she could avoid the possibility of encountering Miranda.
Alas, Andy had called Emily ahead anyway, who begrudgingly told her to come by midday since Miranda would be finishing a meeting with the editors and “She won’t have to see your face or even know you were in the vicinity. Your name is in Miranda’s unspoken rules book, Andrea. I don’t know the full extent of what you did, but your name is practically forbidden in these halls,” she’d said in a tone that demanded answers which Andy would never provide.
If Miranda didn’t want to talk about her departure to anyone, neither would Andy for that matter.
The light turned green as she slid the thin plastic card through the turnstile, and Andy found herself riding the elevator to the 17th floor, closing her eyes against the rush of adrenaline that sparked just by pressing the button.
The way her heart began to beat faster was the silliest she’d ever been — why was Miranda, who Andy wouldn’t even see today, still able to reduce her to… whatever this was, just by fleeting reminders and memories?
As instructed, she talked to Runway’s receptionist, who was supposed to have her belongings there for her to pick up, but no, nothing was ever so easy. Melissa had to call Emily, who said she’d forgotten to take the box to the front, but now had to stay at her desk because the second assistant was on her lunch break. The calls had to be taken, meaning Emily was chained to the desk.
Andy sighed, not sure she’d expected anything different from Runway’s chaotic energy.
It was strange to be here. Especially so soon after everything. But it felt like she’d never left, strutting down the large corridor with memorized steps, barely glancing inside the few open sliding doors on the way, and turning right twice until she was in the editor-in-chief’s office area.
“Andrea! There you are, finally. I thought you’d never show up,” said Emily dramatically once Andy pushed the glass door open. She rolled her eyes in response. Typical Emily.
Emily got up and circled her own desk, then sighed heavily as if bored endlessly despite the conversation having just begun. “Your things are over there” — Emily pointed at the table behind the empty second assistant’s desk — “in that drab box. I swear, Miranda eyed that thing yesterday for a whole second. I thought it would explode. I would not have minded that, of course.”
“It’s good to see you too, Em,” Andy finally said, shaking her head in amusement. Maybe she’d missed this, just a little bit. In the Mirror, everyone mostly stayed in their own writing corner, shouting whenever something was needed, some chit-chat here and there but never this. This being… a sarcastic high-strung British woman who wore daunting outfits and loved to pretend she didn’t care about other people.
Emily offered her a brief tight-lipped smile. “Yes, yes. Run along. I reckon Miranda will be back in fifteen at most and we do not want her to see you. So shoo.” She waved her hand in the door’s general direction and turned to the clipboard attached to the front of her desk, perusing its suddenly very interesting content.
Andy nodded, already moving to what was, until just a few weeks ago, her own space here at Runway. Quickly pulling off the box’s lid, she moved the items around just to make sure—
Yes, there it was. The pen.
“Okay!” chirped Andy, box in hand and a grin to accompany it. Oh, the relief was probably palpable in her expression. “See ya, Em. We should hang around sometime.”
“Hmmpf.” Emily went back to her chair and promptly ignored her, already typing away on her computer.
I guess that means a yes in Emily’s dictionary, Andy thought, pulling the door open and exhaling through her mouth. There. All done. Now, to get to the elevator…
***
Here’s what happened.
Andy left the office through the door on the right instead of the main one, rounded the corner and came face-to-face with Miranda, of all people.
She was not really… she was on autopilot, alright?
She messed it up. She wasn’t supposed to go through that door. But the jumbled thoughts on getting her items back, the brief talk with Emily, and having only left this job a short time ago… This was the closest way to the front area of Runway, and her brain knew that.
So… what happened was that Andy almost choked and died right then and there on the linoleum floor, as she spotted Miranda walking down the hall in all her glory, any other employees just fleeing once they saw her coming. She was wearing one of those white button down shirts she favored so much, paired with a royal blue pantsuit and high-heels and god— she looked so magnificent... gold hoop earrings, layered ball chain necklaces, white hair perfectly in place—
Maybe Andy could have just… squeezed through and hoped that Miranda would just… not see her? Ignore her?
But no, her mind went completely blank. Miranda caught her eye in the next second, and Andy knew she was doomed. Because this felt like trespassing. Even if she was invited, it felt like she was committing a crime.
Miranda stopped, her heels briefly scuffing against the floor, face turning ashen as though seeing a ghost. Andy, naturally, stopped as well, waiting for the proverbial ax to fall.
Oh gosh, I am dead. She’s going to kill me.
Miranda tilted her head, gaze seemingly detached but oh so sharp at the same time as she perused Andy from head to toe.
Once she met her eyes again, Andy just… she couldn’t take the silence. It was why she once upon a time tried to make small talk with Miranda Priestly herself when they shared an elevator, and if there was one thing Miranda disliked… that was small talk.
Andy couldn’t stand the uncomfortable silence, however.
So she raised the hand not holding the box and waved at her. Like it was not a dumb reaction to have when in Miranda’s presence and like they weren’t standing only a few feet apart. “Hi,” she said, for good measure.
Miranda stared for a while longer, her face as impassive as stone as she poised a hand on her waist. “Hm. Calvin Klein.”
She said it in her soft, low voice that could strike with a single blow and leave you a mess. There were no greetings, no pursed lips, nothing. Not a single reaction besides that. Andy dropped her hand to her side, swallowing hard as she looked down at herself and the dark skinny jeans plus black t-shirt plus brown leather jacket combo she was wearing.
Oh god, why. Of all days, it had to be today.
Emily said she’d be safe. Fifteen minutes before anything like this could happen! Why!
Clearing her throat, Andy looked up and managed to maintain eye contact for two seconds before glancing away. “Yes, I um… Had to grab some stu—” she interrupted herself, and good thing she did, because Miranda was already frowning “—some... things I left in the office.” She raised her arm to show the box like an idiot. “So now I should get going.”
“You should,” Miranda said, her hand moving from her waist to fiddle with her necklace. Andy zeroed in on the movement and had to consciously avoid looking directly at Miranda’s… neck…
“It was good to see you,” Andy said, taking a small step back. “You look nice.” Oh shit. Miranda’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly and she didn’t reply to that, obviously, but her fiddly and distracting hand near her neck halted. Andy kept babbling, unable to stop. “Not that you ever— You always do, of course, it’s just that…” she trailed off when Miranda slightly turned her shoulder in Andy’s direction, something in her posture silencing her swiftly.
Miranda gave her a once over again, then said, “Goodbye, Andrea,” moving past Andy, who found it very hard not to glance behind her at her retreating back.