Don't own DWP or The Holiday.

I love Christmas-it's my favorite holiday! (Should hopefully be finished before then :))

Miranda Priestly took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. Looking at the clock resting on her clear glass desk, she groaned softly. 3:00 am. It really was too late to be staying up, but it couldn't be helped. The latest issue was set to print in two days, and Miranda had been busy trying to tie everything together. Her staff had left around 1:00 am, and only her loyal first assistant, Emily remained. Miranda's fingers drifted down to the beaded necklace she wore, and she toyed with it, gazing down at the Book. Her eyes, exhausted, did not do much but skim everything over rather quickly. To top everything off, her husband-now ex-husband-had decided to indulge in a fling with one of his co-workers a month ago, and now she found herself in the middle of a divorce procedure where the end seemed far away. Miranda couldn't say she was that surprised when she learned of her husband's infidelity the month prior, but she couldn't help that stab of pain that she felt when she saw the two intertwined in her bed. Why did everybody leave her? The powerful Editor knew she wasn't an easy woman to live with-her personality alone she knew wasn't very pleasant. Her demanding job also was a strain on every marriage she had, but she tried. She tried with her first husband, and with her second, and now Stephen was leaving her too. Everybody left. The white-haired woman sighed and swiveled her chair to look out the New York City skyline. It was bright and bustling as usual, since it was the 'city that never sleeps'. Lights were on, taxi cab drivers were honking and yelling obscenities, and the sky was an inky black. There was no snow, regrettably. Caroline would be upset about that fact. Miranda smiled at the thought of her children. The only people who never left her, and whom she truly adored and loved.

"Miranda?" Emily's strong accent cut through Miranda's thoughts, and she immediately dropped her fingers from her necklace, and rotated her chair.

"Yes?" Miranda said, quietly noting the fatigue that obviously surrounded the young woman's frame.

"I have the edits from the last couple of pages," the redhead practically dropped them on her desk and slumped over for the shortest of seconds before immediately snapping straight back into position.

Miranda looked at them, and picked one up delicately before addressing her first assistant. "Go home Emily."

"W-what?" Emily gasped.

"It's late. Go home," Miranda flicked her fingers.

"O-ok. Um, thanks." Emily looked hesitantly at her boss before turning away and rushing out the door.

Miranda turned back to the papers on her desk, and felt heavy-headed. Her eyes were fuzzy and her brain seemed to be pounding on her skull. She groaned, but steeled herself for another all-nighter to make sure she produced the best magazine in the world.

Issue number 314 was finally in print, and Miranda couldn't be more relieved. She loved her job-fashion was her life, her everything. But this issue was complicated to complete due to the stress she faced in her personal life. Her divorce was becoming even more tiresome and long, and Stephen was being a complete jerk. He claimed that she should pay her alimony every month due to the fact that the twins would be with him twice a year. He wanted her fortune, and Miranda was not, under any circumstances, going to give him that. He had cheated on her, and yet he wanted her to pay him.

Miranda, seated in her usual throne behind her desk, breathed a gust of air out of her nose. She was feeling stressed and overworked, something that never happened to her. Even during her hardest months, she worked hard and saw the issue the entire way through, maintaining the façade that everything was alright. But as the holidays drew nearer and the days grew shorter, Miranda found herself wanting to relax for the first time in all of her 52 years. She gasped at herself. It was so unlike her to want to take a vacation, but in a sudden moment of clarity, she realized that was what she needed. A vacation. By herself, no Caroline or Cassidy, no Runway, and no Stephen. She bit her lower lip. What would the magazine do? A spark of inspiration drew a small smile to her lips, and she opened her mouth.

"Emily," she called softly, knowing that the assistant would hear her.

"Yes Miranda?" the redhead scurried in.

"I am taking a month vacation," Miranda announced, enjoying the shock and horror that spread over Emily's face.

"Wh-what?" she stuttered. "B-but, the magazine! What are we going to do without-"

"Send Nigel in," Miranda dismissed her without addressing her in the slightest. "That's all."

Emily stood there gaping for a full four seconds before she finally pulled herself together and rushed out of the room, her head spinning from Miranda's unexpected news. A whole entire issue without the fashion maven! She gulped, and hoped she didn't have to face the angry mob of dedicated Runway fans who would surely storm the Elias-Clarke building if they realized their Queen was gone.

"So I hear you're going on vacation," Nigel said in way of a greeting, and entered her office without being invited in.

"Yes," Miranda raised an eyebrow at him.

"In all of your 26 years here, you've never taken a break before," Nigel cupped his chin with his palm.

"Yes, well, that was because before, I didn't have to deal with idiots such as Stephen," Miranda pursed her lips.

"Where will you go?" Nigel asked.

"I have no idea," Miranda admitted. "But far away from here. Somewhere not in the United States."

"I think I have the perfect solution for you," Nigel rubbed the hand that was cupping his chin. "But you'd have to be open to the fact that somebody might be living in your house."

"Absolutely not," Miranda hissed through clenched teeth.

"I was afraid you'd say that," Nigel shook his head. "Perhaps he will do it anyways, and stay with me."

"What on Earth are you talking about?" Miranda snapped.

"My good friend from high school, David, lives in the quiet country of Surrey," Nigel explained. "He'd probably be open to letting you stay at his house if you'd like."

"Surrey? Is that in England?" Miranda tapped her own chin contemplatively.

"Yes, southeast England. It's a sleepy little country, but the perfect get-away location," Nigel shrugged. "It's your choice. If you want it, I'll talk to him and ask him if he'd be ok with that, but I'm sure he will. He's not gay, but he loves you…and Runway of course," Nigel winked.

Miranda drummed her fingers on her desk. "Emily?" she called out. "Make arrangements for my children to stay with their birth father for the next month. Nigel will be taking over for me in that time, and I will return the first of January."