Chapter Text
When you worked for Miranda Priestly, you were bound for success. It was inevitable, people saw the name and just about jump for joy. It didn’t matter if you got fired as long as you worked for her for six months or longer. If she put up with someone for that long, they had to be good.
The last three of Miranda Priestly’s first assistants had gone to work as Heads of Fashion in three different companies. The second assistants usually went on to be a personal stylist for some of Hollywood’s top celebrities. One had even gone on to start her own fashion company that was quickly making heads turn, even Miranda’s.
Safe to say, if you were lucky enough to work under the hellish conditions of the top Editor and Chief of Runway, you were bound to succeed.
Emily knew it, that’s why she stayed as Miranda’s first assistant for three years before moving up in Runway, becoming the Senior Fashion Editor.
Andrea learned it, taking up a position as a reporter for the New York Mirror. It’s why Andrea climbed the ladder quickly, nothing could be worse than those nine months being nothing but a door mat. Her writing and work ethic made her one of the top reporters in the United States, moving on from small editorial pieces to political coverages.
And somehow between it all, Andrea and Emily became friends, stayed friends. Emily had called to thank Andy for the clothes, and from that point on, they made sure to stay in contact.
It wasn’t often they got to see each other, both running ragged across the city because of their jobs. But they checked in through text a few times a month, tried to get lunch when they could, drinks if they were lucky.
A lot of the time they met up at fashion events, as all the journals Andy worked for knew she had experience in that area and asked if she would be willing to cover the major events. She said yes, though it was mainly to just see Emily. Those events were where they mainly caught up, as after they mingled, they could just sit at the bar and talk.
Andrea was the first-person Emily called when Miranda shipped her off to Dior.
Emily was the first-person Andrea called when she found out CNN was making her an on the ground war zone reporter.
Somewhere along the way, they became each other’s emergency contact. Neither could hold down a real relationship for long, too driven by their careers to stop and slow down.
They only did that with each other over lunch or drinks.
Andrea was still working Stateside when Emily had called her. She had been off in California, covering the governor's election when her phone rang and she had to stop in a park to make out what Emily was saying.
There was more swearing than Andy thought possible, more than a few tears, and enough panic in Emily’s voice Andy cut her trip short and gave the rest of the story to the reporter who had come with her.
Her boss reprimanded her for the unprofessionalism, but Emily had threatened to kill Miranda enough times Andy truly thought she needed to stop the other woman. Instead, they got wasted at some shitty bar Emily would have been caught dead in, pinned a picture of Miranda on the dart board, and went to town.
“We are never allowed to get that drunk again.” Andy groaned, an icepack covering her eyes.
“It was your idea.” Emily had said, clutching the small trash can close to her.
“Shut up.”
It was well into the afternoon before they had been able to get up and slightly function. They had gone to Runway late that night, clearing out Emily’s office so no one would see her so humiliated.
A year later, a few months after Andy turned 30, was when Emily picked up Andy’s frantic call. She had been in a strategy meeting when the first ten calls came through, and when she looked at her phone afterwards, she had gone straight to the rooftop to call her back.
That call had been filled with fear and excitement from Andy, as she had been waiting for a promotion for months. Andrea had thought she’d be covering the White House press conferences, so when she heard what her new assignment was, she had been shocked.
The two of them met for drinks that same night, called out of work the next day and found themselves in the same bar from a year ago.
The result of the night was the same.
She was set to leave in a month for Syria, where the ongoing conflict between ISIS and the Syrian military had reached a point of no return. Emily had helped her find a new, smaller apartment and break the lease on her current one. The two had spent the weekend before Andy was set to leave transferring stuff from one apartment to the other, with Emily holding onto some smaller stuff Andy didn’t have room for but couldn’t bring herself to throw away.
Andy was leaving in September with the first troops to intervene in the Syrian conflict. CNN thought she’d be there for a few months while the troops secured important military bases and tightened up the Iraq-Syria border. Six months is what she had been told.
Emily and her shared a tearful goodbye the night before Andy left, with Emily making Andy promise to stay safe for those six months. They were able to call on Fridays, the holy day in Islam, when a lot of the military action calmed down.
To both of their reliefs, Andy did stay safe during those six months, though not without a few close calls. Emily watched the news every day for those six months, waking up at four to see the morning report and blocking off her calendar at five to watch the evening report given by Andy. She even set up a Google alert with Andy’s name, always making time to read the newest article published.
There was a more heartbreaking reason she did as well, as she wanted to know right away if something had happened to Andy.
Her assistants thought she loved current events. Emily was simply worried about her friend.
But six months passed and they were reunited safely and began their normal routine again. Andy got to hear all about how Emily was turning heads at Dior, how she thought she may be moving out of retail and back into design soon. She got to hear about the bad dates that they’d hadn’t had time to discuss during their twenty-minute trans-Atlantic satellite phone calls. Especially after Andy had warned Emily someone was listening to their calls.
It was nice, it was peaceful, it felt normal.
It was even normal when Andy found out she was Emily’s emergency contact when she was involved in a minor car crash. But because Emily had broken a finger and therefore had gone to the hospital, Andy got a call from a very calm nurse letting her know she needed to pick up the redhead.
Which of course meant the world was going to throw the women a curve ball. It was a month after Andy had been back when she got the call she’d be going back to Syria with the first US ground troops. This time with a yearlong assignment, but it was most likely it was going to be extended if the US intervention lasted longer than the government thought.
Andy didn’t get her hopes up, she knew US interventions were never short, how they always thought rebel and terrorist groups couldn’t outsmart them. She had done a lot of research before going overseas the first time and had found out most military interventions tended to last year’s past their original end date. How American imperialism never actually had an end date if they thought they could win and install a democratic government.
This time, she only had a week to prepare, as the Pentagon had only just tipped off the major news outlets of the upcoming ground invasion. She didn’t even have enough time to call Emily and warn her before the governments press release hit the news cycle.
Emily was smart, she knew what was going to happen. Andy was being sent away again. Her phone rang less than five minutes later.
“Please tell me you haven’t seen the news.” Was Andy’s rushed question.
“You better be calling to tell me you only just found out and weren’t keeping this from me.” Emily said, annoyed, her foot tapping endlessly on the tile floor.
“I promise I just found out too, Brian just called to let me know I’m leaving in a week.” Andy explained.
There was silence for about ten seconds before Emily found her voice, “A week?”
Andy was too frantic to hear the heartbreak in her friend’s voice, instead she thought it was fear, “I know. I thought I’d have more of a heads up if I was going back, but the Pentagon kept things very hush hush from us this time around.”
“We were supposed to go apartment shopping in two days.” Emily said, willing herself to not cry.
They were, Andy thought she’d be staying stateside since there hadn’t been any updates from her sources about another intervention. Brian, her boss, had even hinted at a job as one of the White House correspondents since she had done so well in Syria.
And because of that, Emily had gotten her hopes up. She had thought with them both finally being stable and in place, she would finally be able to find her voice and tell Andy how she felt. Emily even had a plan, she was going to ask Andy out after the Met Gala, where she was bringing the journalist as her plus-one. She had even called in a favor at Valentino to get a custom-made dress, as she knew he was Andy’s favorite designer.
“I know, I know,” Andy’s voice broke her chain of thought, “But hey, we still get to go to the Met together, I’m not leaving until Wednesday.”
“Well at least the favor I called in won’t being going to waste.” Emily said, a humorless chuckle cracking across the call.
Emily could practically feel the way Andrea’s face scrunched up as she realized how upset Emily actually was.
“I’m sorry, Em. Bad time for a joke.” Andy apologized.
Emily let out a breath, calming herself, “How long are you gone for this time?”
“A year.” Andy pulled the phone away from her ear in anticipation.
“A year!” Emily shouted.
“I’m not happy about it either. Especially with knowing the track record of our interventions, I’m not hopeful it’ll only be a year.” Andy said.
“You really know how to reassure a girl, Andy Sachs.” Emily said sarcastically.
“Right, sorry. Look Brian gave me the rest of my working day’s off to get ready and do my mandatory psych eval before I leave, so how about we make the most of it?” She asked.
They did.
That same night they got Andy all packed and ready, the single suitcase already sitting by the door for Andy to grab in a week’s time. Emily went to work the next morning when Andy had her psych appointment but took the afternoon and Friday off. Should she have taken the last working day off before the Met Gala? No.
If younger me saw how much I would sacrifice for a girl, she’d slap me, Emily thought as she packed up for the day. She trusted her assistants to handle everything, even told them to take off early and get some rest before their hectic weekend started.
They spent the weekend together watching trashy TV and movies, drinking more wine they should have but Emily had justified it by pointing out Andy wouldn’t have access to the stuff back in Syria.
Monday was spent with stylists and tailors, making last minute alterations to their outfits. Emily was of course styled in Dior, a stunning baby blue gown adorned with flowers embroidered on and a dark-blue cape. Valentino had done his magic again, dressing Andy in a golden gown that flowed around the journalist’s body almost like liquid.
The night had been wonderful, they had laughed and danced with their mutual friends, drank with some of Hollywood’s greatest and savored the memories they made. If Andy noticed Emily’s slightly somber mood, she didn’t mention it. If anything, she probably thought it was because this was the last time they’d get to see each other like this for at least a year.
Definitely not because the time Emily had planned to ask Andy out came and went without pause.
Their last day together was spent roaming around New York, popping into stores and cafes, walking through central park, and trying to soak up every second they had left together. As evening approached, they grabbed some take out from Andy’s favorite place and ate together at the journalist’s apartment. The conversation was purposefully kept light, but anytime Emily caught a glimpse of the suitcase by the door, bile started to rise in her throat. She pushed it down every time, but the fear that assaulted her never left.
They had hugged for a long time, tears staining both of their cheeks and ruining carefully applied mascara.
Emily often wondered why she didn’t confess right there, told Andy how she felt and that she had to stay safe so Emily wouldn’t have to learn to live a life without her. She told herself it was because Andy didn’t need extra stress, the woman was already going to an active war zone for god’s sake. In reality, it was fear. Fear that if Andy rejected her, she would have no one. Fear that if Andy got killed because she was distracted by her, she’d never forgive herself.
Instead, she stayed silent besides the sobs, held Andy tight and whispered, “You better come back, Andrea Sachs. You have to promise me you’ll try to stay safe.” Emily knew Andy couldn’t promise to be completely safe, that she’d be on the front lines covering the carnage of war. But God damn it, Andy had to try.
“I promise, Em.”
They saw each other one other time in three years, in 2016. Emily was in Germany helping the European branch open a new flagship store the same time Andy was covering the story of the first critically injured American solider.
The warm July air had hung around them as they caught up in a café. They still called on Friday’s, though with the recent attacks in Syria there had been fewer.
Emily still watched the news every morning and evening, watched as the war took its toll on Andy. The bags under the woman’s eyes never left, some weeks it looked like Andy hadn’t showered in days, how Andy’s enthusiasm slowly disappeared as the war dragged on.
Emily still thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world, but she was worried.
Germany had only increased it. She noticed the way Andy would drift off, how her eyes would glaze over. The random times Andy cringed, trapped in some terrible memory no doubt. How jumpy Andy was at loud sounds and how her hands shook for minutes afterwards. The third time Andy jumped at a honking car, Emily suggested they go back to her hotel to relax.
They only had twenty-four hours together before the next transport plane was leaving for Syria and with-it Andy. The goodbye was again long and tearful with Emily making Andy promise to try to be safe.
This time though, Andy only squeezed harder, not willing to voice a promise she knew she couldn’t keep. CNN had extended her time again by another year and the war was becoming bloodier, with the media having to creep closer to the front lines to report their stories.
When they had pulled away, Andy gently wiped the tears from under Emily’s eyes and said, “Till next time.”
Emily’s assistants cleared Emily’s schedule many times in the next week, watching as their ice queen boss couldn’t hold herself together for longer than hour. They watched as Emily obsessively checked her phone anytime a notification sounded, how their boss always had the news running, and how their boss started to work from home more often.
It was Selena, Emily’s second assistant, who found the correlation. Whenever there was a bombing near or at a US military base in Syria, Emily stayed home. It was Mary, her first assistant, who found out why.
It had been a random Tuesday when Mary discovered why Emily stayed home those days. During the night in Syria, but during the day in New York, a military base had been struck by ISIS. Mary had watched the way Emily had gone from her composed boss to a frantic mess when she saw the notification on her laptop. Emily had stopped the conversation mid-sentence and turned on the news, hand pressed over her open mouth. Her eyes were tracking the reporter frantically, until finally they cut a woman named Andrea Sachs live from Syria.
Once the threat had been deemed to have passed, the journalists were the first on the news to report what had happened. The miliary that had been attacked wasn’t the one Andy was stationed at, instead it was thirty miles to the south, closer to the front lines.
The two assistants had watched the relief flood across Emily when Andy had appeared on screen, how Emily had fallen back into her chair once the report was over and covered her eyes. They left quickly after Emily snapped at them, asking if they didn’t have more important things to do be doing. Emily left shortly after that, her phone pressed tightly against her ear as she waited for Andy to pick up.
The last thing Selena and Mary heard that day was Emily’s voice from down the hall saying, “Thank God you’re okay.”