I told myself I was going to do this, but I find myself doing it anyway...

So I hope you like it...Reviews would be lovely, but I understand if the Devil Wears Prada appeal is no longer there...

Chapter 1

Whatever had prompted Miranda to write that Andrea was her biggest disappointment, both mystified and stooped Andrea. She was almost certain that the cold-hearted woman who she had formerly called her boss would have, and should have, written her the most horrendous letter of recommendation possible. But the words that had followed Miranda's apparent discontent and distain had thrown Andrea. She couldn't even begin to fathom why she would have followed that big ugly word –disappointment- with a sentence that was so contradictory, Andrea had forgotten to breathe when her new employer had uttered it.

Miranda was always full of surprises. She had gone out on a whim to even hire Andrea. And Andrea had known and had taken advantage of the small mercy Miranda had given her. Over the nine months she worked for Miranda, however, her viewpoint had changed.

She carried herself differently, she knew how to command attention, but unlike Miranda, she hadn't given her soul away. Not entirely.

What she might have lost, quite possibly, was her heart. But to what she wasn't quite sure. At least not until she heard Miranda's recommending words.

"…you'd be a complete idiot not to hire her…"

The words rolled through her mind as she made her way to her new office, mindlessly wondering past her old work building. Elias-Clark loomed above her, taunting her, torturing her with what seemed like a lifetime of stress and work all under the woman who had just assisted her in getting her her new job.

Attempting not to glance at the entrance way to see if Miranda was clicking her way from the car to the front of the familiar building, on her way to another busy, hectic day at the office, Andrea allowed herself to wonder what the silver haired woman would be up to today. Firing another assistant? Ruining another designers new Fall line? Throwing out an almost complete editorial because it didn't fit correctly in the current issue? Quietly berating her wardrobe workers for pulling the wrong looks?

A chill raced down Andrea's spine and she was glad to turn the corner, out of sight of the haunting building. For some reason almost all of her thoughts were laced with Miranda nowadays. Ever since she had happened to see her stepping out of her car that one day, and ever since she had blatantly seen Miranda stifle a smile directed right at her, she had known that a connection still existed.

Something had been left unsaid, undone. Andrea walking away that day in Paris had been almost unfulfilling and she wondered if it was because she secretly, deep down missed Miranda.

She had come to so fully rely on the older woman, that not having her call her to wake her up at six in the morning to ask her for her coffee or tell her she had to run to Saks to pick up some samples made Andrea feel lost.

And that insistent phone ringer still haunted her dreams at night. She'd wake up at five in the morning having heard that phone ring splitting through her dreams, only to find that her apartment was completely silent.

It was just empty without Miranda.

How had she come to this? She had been convinced that leaving Miranda was the best thing she could do, but apparently it had proved to be the exact opposite.

As Andrea mindlessly took her seat at her new desk, assessing her workload for the day, she tried to push all thoughts of Miranda and her past out of her mind. She settled in to a nice pace and by lunchtime she had completely forgotten Miranda and her old job until…

Miranda was furious. Nothing was going the way she had planned it would. Everything was behind, people were screwing up left and right, and all Miranda could do was sit at her desk and rub her temples, glaring as the little minions in her office dared to walk by.

"Emily?" She called, not allowing her voice to raise much above a whisper.

She exhaled sharply when her now one and only assistant did not appear.

"Emily?" She tried once again; frustrated that she had to repeat herself.

"Yes?" There she was.

"Get my coat, I have lunch with…"

"The editor. Right. Shit." She had heard the curse word uttered under her assistant's breath, but she chose to ignore it.

She closed the newspaper she had in front of her, pushing it off to the side, hiding it below the plethora of magazines spread across her desk. She wasn't embarrassed that she read The New York Mirror. There was nothing embarrassing about it. She had always read it. But she had realized that the particular article she had been focused on for the last five minutes belonged to someone she knew and also someone she knew the people around her knew. And because of this, she chose to hide the magazine.

Her face betrayed none of the emotions reeling through her head as she allowed Emily to assist her in pulling on her coat.

"I'll be back by one. I expect all the clothes for the run-through in my office by then and my Starbucks on my desk waiting. Also I need you to call over to Dolce and Gabbana. There are shirts waiting for me there, I need you to get them. That's all." And with that she placed her sunglasses over her eyes and let the glass door close softly behind her, completing her exit.

Sometime later Miranda arrived at her lunch destination. She stepped out of her car and crossed the sidewalk to the entrance. The doors were pulled open before her and she gave the doorman a faux smile. The maître'de, recognizing her, ushered her to the waiting table. However, the table was empty. Her appointment had dared to be late. She was enraged.

She refused a drink, but watched as her waitress, with a wavering hand, filled her glass with water. Miranda waved her away, telling her her services would not be necessary until the other party had arrived.

The waitress quickly raced away, and Miranda fixated on the door.

It was then that the last person she had expected to see that day, or any other day, decided to step in to the restaurant.

Her breath caught, if only for a moment. No, no she refused to allow this new arrival to make her already off day worse. She would ignore this, just like she would ignore the fact that her lunch date was rudely already five minutes late.