First fanfiction EVER, this is going to be a multi-chapter. Although it is fiction, I'll make this as realistic as possible ( slow and steady, anyone?), it's rated M for later chapters (maybe!)

This is unbetaed so all mistakes belong to me, unfortunately English is not my first language, also I don't own any of

these characters.

Chapter 1

Miranda Priestly stared into space in her office, ten minutes until the run-through, everyone was scampering around getting the final touches ready, she didn't care, she didn't even want to shoot them down with her scathing remarks or make them have a nervous breakdown just before lunch, which was indeed a fun thing to do just to pass the time, but not today. No.

She swiveled in her leather throne letting her gaze rest on the horizon, the thin little line that reminded her of the things that were still beyond her grasp and understanding. From the altitude of her achievements they would still hang high above her and mock her in their tiny, irritating voices. Still she couldn't help reach for them, they prompted her to grow and thrive, and compensate those little whimpers of frustration.

The awful truth was that time wasn't afraid of her icy glare, she couldn't make him stop with some sardonic remark, he would do what he does best and the proof of his efficiency would appear every morning in the mirror carved in nonsensical patterns around her eyes.

Speaking of him, she scoffed lightly and glanced at her watch, why wasn't everyone ready? She turned to her desk and saw a rack of clothes being pushed into her office, "finally" she wondered who was the blundering fool that was behind the mass of clothing, moving frantically, making her lose her patience and her time. "Andrea, that silly girl." Her head appeared bobbed at the sight of Miranda, she was panting, her face was slightly flushed and her pearl necklace hanged unruly and kind of ridiculous.

"Really, Andrea, must you jostle inside my office like you just escaped from some circus convention?" Miranda mused, barely lifting her gaze from her papers.

"I'm so sorry, Miranda, Jocelyn and Nigel had a misunderstanding about a collection, they'll be right here momentarily", Andy fidgeted trying to straighten her crumpled appearance.

"And they sent you to deliver their most sincere apologies for their incompetence. How very thoughtful." Miranda raised an eyebrow at her.

"Now, if I won't be asking too much I would like to start this run-through in the next 5 hours, that's all."

"Yes, Miranda." Andy retreated to the safety of her desk, trying to regain her normal breathing, thankful that despite the scathing remarks, Miranda seemed to be in a good mood, which was a very rare occurring those days at Runway.

As she pulled her chair towards her desk to resume her daily tasks, she couldn't help but feel lucky that her head didn't roll out of Miranda's office down the hall, as a warning for other incompetent fools that didn't match her expectancies. But then again, Miranda always seemed softer and almost forgiving with Andrea's clumsy and graceless nature.

In her first 4 months she could barely keep up with the atmosphere, the clothes, the sarcastic remarks, the ironies, the jabs and the fakery, the jealousy of being Miranda's most loyal servant, she was closer to her than everyone. There were days when she thought she would pass out of exhaustion, she crashed in the bed at night, face first, only to hear the phone going off seconds later. Miranda. Still Miranda, after 10 months.

After Paris she had nothing left, no boyfriend, no friends, no social life, she felt crazy for coming back to Miranda begging forgiveness for acting like a wimpy girl from Ohio. Oh, but she was forgiven, no one knew how she defied Miranda and slammed the door in her face. How she pranced on the opposite sidewalk like a deer into the woods, only to crash face to face with her in the hotel's lobby hours later.

She pulled her to the side into a deserted hall and scanned her with the deadliest glare Andy had ever seen, she felt turned inside-out, her make-up was a mess, her gown was ruined, she had no idea how to defend herself and Miranda was way too much in her personal space, as if to make sure she had a quick and painless death.

"I will just assume that your appearance is the pure evidence of how sorry you are. " Miranda said and reached in her clutch, produced a tissue and started dabbing at Andrea's darkened eyes of mascara and unguarded regret, she sniffed and tried not to fall apart yet again. Miranda's tone was pure ice, but her movements were slow and soothing, Andy knew she didn't deserve to be forgiven, but how could have she stayed there and listen to Miranda give her a speech about morality and how alike they both are? She would never drag down someone or backstab them to get ahead. She would never betray a friend and especially someone as devoted and wonderful as Nigel.

"Now, Andrea, no one turns their back on me and lives to tell the tale, it's not your job to judge my actions, or second-guess me, I assure you I have been in this business since before you were running around in diapers, and there is nothing left out there that will leave me surprised, such as your little theatrical outburst."

Miranda sighed, she didn't want to eviscerate Andrea, but the way the girl jolted from the backseat of the car away from her, away from the Fashion Queen that ruled over a beauty empire and did the ugliest things to those who were most faithful to her; Andrea's reaction was painful and reckless. What did she know about compromise and betrayal?

"I understand, Miranda. I will be leaving with the first flight tomorrow morning, I'll call Emily to clear my personal belongings from my desk". Andrea's voice was shaking and she was shifting her weight from one foot to the other like she was about to bolt at any moment.

"You silly girl." Miranda hissed and dragged her through the hall towards the elevators. She jabbed the button with hatred and stood fixing Andy with her gaze. Andy stared down at her Louboutins, she felt pathetic, she couldn't even form a lame excuse, she was finished, her career was down the drain. "Way to go, Sachs" she scoffed internally, the loud ding startled them and the door of the elevator opened, luckily there was no one inside to see the current state they were in.

"Andrea, she whispered, you will not breathe a word about this, do you understand me? Tomorrow you will continue to perform your tasks as my second assistant, do not mistake to believe that all of this will be forgotten, I am merely giving you a second chance, you are not the subject of some favoritism, as you well know, I do not justify my actions to anyone, but in this particular case this is my decision, do not disappoint me. I expect you to be ready by 9.30 tomorrow. That's all."

Andy was gobsmacked "I am so sorry,Miranda." she murmured, then climbed into the elevator and pushed the button to her floor, she couldn't even look at Miranda, although she was already turned with her back striding through the hall away from her.

That night after hours of tossing and turning in her bed, Andy finally understood everything. Miranda did what she had to do for the greater good, and there was indeed mutual trust and understanding between her and Nigel. What didn't she see it before? Why did she have to make it about her idealistic fantasies and act like an ignorant teenager?

After all, she had made the same necessary choices and she was indeed like Miranda, but unlike her, she made them repeatedly and without being forced by constraining circumstances, and that could only mean one thing- the Cinccinatti, wide-eyed girl no longer existed. She didn't trade this for the first pair of Jimmy Choos, not even for the Chanel boots, no, she'd had in herself the whole time, and not because she wanted to lead the life of fame and glamour.

She did lost Nate in this process and frankly she was tired of his nagging and his speeches about integrity and picking sides. As if life could ever be that simple. Well, maybe his pork wine reductions were. Maybe simplicity was no longer something they had in common, maybe he wanted some boneheaded, sheltered girl that would agree with him in every aspect of life, from French fries to how to pursue a career.

And Miranda, she was the only constant in this equation, her presence was the result of those choices that felt at first like compromises and yet they were not compromises at all.

Andy swiveled in her chair eyeing the onscreen clock, it was 10.35 p.m, she could imagine Miranda pacing through the house waiting for The Book to be ready, luckily this task was out of her hands.

For the umpteenth time she remembered Paris, sometimes she allowed herself to bask in the absurdity of the idea that she was sharing a secret with Miranda Priestly, she glanced in her empty desk from where she sent everyone tumbling with perfect poise and the flick of a hand. Every day when their eyes would meet over the glass surface, some dull papers or the Starbucks cup, Andy knew that Miranda Priestly was not heartless.

"…Do not disappoint me" The moment she'd been given a second chance stirred in her feelings she didn't quite understand, first it was the guilt and the sense of privilege, but then there were the midnight calls which seemed so uncharacteristic for the editor, she always seemed to find some new errand to assign to Andy that couldn't wait for the next day.

At first Andy thought it was because of her divorce, the townhouse seemed so empty and quiet when she delivered the book, she thought Miranda was just as lonely as she was.

She purposely let the phone ring multiple times before she would pick up, she didn't want to seem too eager. Miranda's voice soothed her, one time she almost fell asleep while listening to her rant about some incapable idiot at the sales department. On rare occasions they even had little discussions, and a few times Miranda wished her good night instead of just hanging up.

In the darkness of her room, it seemed less delusional the idea of a friendship with Miranda Priestly. Maybe it wasn't such a huge lie to tell herself , if only the time and space were right to be this utterly fascinated by someone.

That night after delivering The Book, Andy dragged her feet up the stairs to her flat and kicked the door shut, she threw her purse and shoes in a corner, it was so quiet. She plopped on the couch with a glass of leftover wine and dozed off before she could even take a sip.

Miranda stood with The Book in her lap, only moments ago Andy slipped into the foyer and performed her final duties for the day. Invisible and efficient. Every night Miranda stood in the den and listened to her rustling about and then disappearing with the soft click of the door. The girl that got a second chance, she mused. She was not wrong to keep her and she most definitely was not invisible.

Sometimes, at the end of the day when it was so quiet and a pulsing headache was sneaking up on her, she closed her eyes and she saw Andrea's face.