Disclaimer: Fox and Lauren Weisberger owns the copyright to "The Devil Wears Prada" and its characters. I only play with them with no copyright infringement intended. Or any money made.
Pairing: Andy/Miranda (MirAndy)
Rating: PG 13 - NC-17 depending on chapter.
Summary: Miranda is trying to get used to a life without Andrea. Andy in turn, loves her new job at the Mirror, but hurts every time she sees her from a distance. When Andy's life is on the line, Miranda can't keep away any longer.
By Gun Brooke
Miranda walked out of the Elias-Clarke building, her mood below zero, barking orders on her phone. When the Mercedes pulled up to the curve, she simply disconnected in the middle of Emily's tedious explanation. As she approached the car, she happened to glance across the busy street. A familiar face. Andrea. The beautiful brunette, the assistant who'd walked away from Miranda and out of her life in the middle of Paris Fashion Week raised her arm and waved. Inhaling sharply as if someone punched her in her solar plexus, Miranda stood leaning against the car for a moment before breaking eye contact. She slipped into the back seat and slid over to the far side to still be able to observe the girl. Clearly, Andrea didn't dress like she did at Runway, but she still looked smart and professional. Why Miranda had written that letter of recommendation for Andrea instead of black listing her, she couldn't figure out. Nor was she certain why she removed her sunglasses and watched Andrea with hungry eyes now.
When Miranda realized that the car wasn't moving, she rolled her eyes and donned the sunglasses back on. Finding Roy's eyes in the rearview mirror, she merely said, "Go!"
Andy had no idea what seeing Miranda would stir in her heart, and in turn, where that would lead. She began going into work by passing Elias-Clark, hoping to catch a glimpse of Miranda, but rarely did. Sometimes, Andy would spot a shock of white hair, but it was rarely the right person beneath it. Miranda was like no other person, woman or man, that Andy had ever known. She surmised she never would in the future either. This was a depressing thought, and then there was the fact that Andy had acted so unprofessionally, if for all the right reasons, in Paris. Miranda no doubt thought it had everything to do with how Miranda treated Nigel Kipling, but that was not even half the truth. If Miranda had known the full truth, Andy would've been fired and out on her ass anyway, so in Andy's mind, she only beat Miranda to the punch.
"Sachs!" her new boss at the New York Mirror shouted from his office. Andy rose from her chair in her cubicle and hurried over to him.
"I swear you move faster than anyone else in this damn office. Must've been because Miranda Priestly trained you. Anyway. You've done a good job with the stuff you've work on so far, I thought you'd get to dip your feet a little deeper. Mike, our usual crime reporter had a dental emergency. Never fails. There's some sort of issue at a school not far from our office. The police is on their way and since we're so close, you better be the first reporter on site. Bring Pam. She's our best photographer."
"All right. Thanks, boss." Andy rushed over to her cubicle and gathered her messenger back and put on her leather jacket. This was better than the minor tasks they'd given her so far. She knew she had to pay her dues, but her boss probably also knew that a young reporter could die from boredom unless he threw them a bone.
"Hi Andy. You all set?" Pam Evans appeared, her camera bag slung over her shoulder. "We should be able to make it faster if we run over there."
"Then we better move."
The school yard was surrounded by police cars when they got there and more were pulling up.
"What the hell's going on?" Andy saw groups of children huddled in places, and, oh God, some were on the ground. The police was closing off the area while some of their colleagues were running toward the injured. A school shooting, or what? Andy saw her chance and before Pam had a chance to react, she slipped into the school yard. Barely inside, a small hand belonging to a girl of perhaps nine or ten, yanked at her sleeve.
"Miss. Miss! He's bleeding. Are you the police?" Her voice, shrill and trembling, spoke of shock, as did her chalk white face.
"I'm a…where is he? Who's bleeding? Is someone helping him?" Andy knew she couldn't disregard a hurt child in order to get her story, and when the girl pulled her along with her to the playground area, she followed. When they reached the swing set, Andy's heart sank at the sight of legs sticking out. Denim clad, with sneakers, and very still legs.
"H-his name is Yamal. He's…the man with the knife stabbed him from behind when he was on the swing!"
God. Oh, for the love of… Andy rushed over to the boy. He was very pale below his otherwise latte colored skin. He seemed to be breathing, but shallow and very fast.
"Yamal, hey, kiddo. You're going to be fine." Andy cursed not knowing what to do. "Where was he stabbed?"
"His shoulder, or in the back." The girl sobbed and remained close to Andy. "I was on the bars over there, climbing, and then—then…"
"Okay. Let's see if we can stop some of the bleeding. What's your name?" Andy stuck her hand in under Yamal's shirt and looked for a wound. Soon she found it, lower than she'd hoped, but not too close to his heart, she didn't think.
"Beth. You're doing really well. Can you run over to the paramedics, or the police, and tell them Yamal's hurt?"
"No! I can't. I can't leave him. Can't we carry him over there?"
"I shouldn't move him, honey. Let's see if we can get anyone's attention then." Andy stood, waved her arms, hoping Pam would see her. When she turned to the ever-growing crowd of press and bystanders, she saw Pam just outside the police tape. Nearly smacking herself on the forehead for not thinking, Andy pulled up her cell phone and dialed Pam.
"What the hell are you doing, Andy?" Pam sounded frantic.
"There's a kid hurt over here and his friend, the girl, Beth, came to get me. To help him. The paramedics can't see him from over where they are. He's bleeding really badly. "
"You don't understand, Andy. You have to get out of there."
"I can't. I can't leave him with Beth. He shouldn't be moved."
"Andy, listen! Oh, God, look out!" Pam screamed on the phone, making Andy flinch. She realized Beth was screaming as well and turned around. Behind her stood a man, holding a knife. A very long, blood soaked knife.
Miranda rolled her fountain pen between her fingers, looking out the window. She had a few decisions to make, which needed her signature, but no matter how she turned it over in her head, she couldn't avoid hurting someone. Despite what anyone else at Runway thought, she didn't take pleasure in firing anyone. That's why she most often let Emily do it when yet another assistant proved to be useless.
"Miranda. You have to see this." Nigel rushed into her office, carrying his Ipad. "It's on CNN. On all the news networks."
"What on earth are you talking about?" Miranda put on her reading glasses and took his Ipad from his trembling fingers.
"A crazy man with a knife on a school yard here on Manhattan."
"Dalton?" Dread filled Miranda.
"No. Closer to our offices. But Andy's there."
"Who—An-Andrea?" Another cold fist clutched at her heart. "What would she be doing there?"
"Her job. She was already inside the police tape when he turned up again. They say he stabbed four children and one teacher. And now he has Andy and a little girl."
"I need to go over there."
Nigel looked shocked. "What? Why?"
"The same reason you had for barging in showing me this. Call Roy."
"No use. You won't get very close to the site in a car. I suggest we walk."
"Very well. Emily. Coat. Bag. Cancel all my meetings this afternoon. I won't be in until tomorrow."
"Yes, Miranda." Emily had clearly heard everything. "Andrea? Nigel, call me or Serena when you know something? Should we call her parents? Do they know?"
"I will take care of that. Text me their phone number." Miranda pulled her coat from Emily's hands and put it on while walking to the elevator, Nigel in tow.
To be continued in part 2