Title: What's In A Name
Author: InBetweens
Rating: T
Plot: Miranda has spent most of her years trying to ignore the name written on her wrist. She believes that destinies are made not fated. Then one morning Andrea (Andy) Sachs walks into her office and the mark on her wrist burns her to the very core of her being.
Author's Note: A BIG thank you to Sandy for her help with this story! All mistakes are still mine.
I'm entering this into the Mirandy Fun and Frolic Writers Bingo. I'm taking a few liberties here. This certainly answers the Soul Mates box. However, it also answers the four corners of Card 6 (Sunglasses, Post-It-Note, Fetching, Glacial Pace). I will leave it to Lara to decide if the word count allows for it to count for all five.
Part 1 of 3
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Miranda Priestly did not believe in destiny.
Miranda was a strong believer that you made your own destiny; you were not bound by mystical anomalies that would lead you to your destiny. If destiny had its way, Miranda would be as poor and destitute as her parents had been. But she wasn't. She was a reigning queen of fashion with riches beyond even her young mind's imagination.
So how was it that fate could and would decide who her soulmate was?
That a mark upon her otherwise unblemished skin at the age of 18 would reveal to her the name of the person she would spend the rest of her life with as they were the other part of her soul?
That together their souls would merge and become one again, as the old gods had intended it. And yet fate somehow knew there were many people with the same names. Knew that there could be confusion and so it was not until you met your true mate, your soul mate, and they introduced themselves to you saying aloud the name upon your wrist, that the bond would take place. The bonding of their souls as it were. The bond that you would feel growing through the very bold black letters that destined you together. A tedious process that was lamented about in all works of poetry and literature.
As sappy and trite as it all seemed, the name on Miranda's wrist had always been the same. It was the one constant in her life. Through all the sweat, blood, and yes, even tears, of the years of grueling work she put in to make something of herself, through her many failed relationships and marriages, the name was always there.
In stark black lettering it lay upon the skin of her wrist, above the cephalic vein. As constant as her heart beat within her chest, it was there. Sturdy and sure through the worst of times it remained and offered hope. Hope that there was something beyond the grueling hours spent dragging herself across the floors, nails biting into the dirt to help her crawl and claw her way up to walk amongst the pristine marble floors.
However, Miranda did not believe in fate. If destiny had its way Miranda would never have had her children, for it was not their father's name on her wrist.
Caroline and Cassidy were the brightest spots in her life besides her work. They offered unconditional love (for the first several years of their life). All they asked of her was to be present and love them. They needed for nothing else. Not because of the name on her wrist but because of her. They were fed and well clothed and could do anything they wanted with their lives because of her drive to succeed professionally.
Personally, she failed.
But was that truly as important?
If she had not spent countless hours at the office she could not offer her beautiful children their dreams on a silver platter, perhaps even gold platters if they wanted.
Yet, her daughters did not measure success by how well one did professionally. No, their rose-colored glasses saw success as having found their soul-mate.
At eleven her daughters were just old enough to start wondering about the black marks on their wrists. When they came of age the black marks would form the names of their true loves. Just as Miranda's had.
Miranda often times caught them staring at their marks, running their fingers across the bold black stains as if by tracing them they could unlock all of their secrets early.
Miranda envied their innocence for they did not understand the burdens their names could cause them. They only saw the happily ever after associated with the names of their soul mate. They saw happy endings with their perfect match. A life spent being doted on by their loves.
And why shouldn't they?
Miranda wanted nothing but happiness for them. To have attainable dreams for their future. If, for now, those dreams were of one day finding their true loves to start 'the rest of their lives', then so be it.
Her daughters had nothing to fear in the eyes of society or from their mother, no matter what name appeared upon their skin.
Miranda was not so lucky.
Whatever the gender of the name upon her daughters' wrists, Miranda would see to it that they understood they were loved and accepted and the happy ending they dreamed for themselves would not be lost.
They would not suffer the same consequence as their mother.
Miranda would make sure of that.
Not that Miranda's parents had ever had the chance to accept or reject her based upon the name on her wrist. By the time Miranda's name appeared upon her skin she had already left 'home'. If you could call where she had been growing up home. To distance herself from the world her parents had known and brought her into, she'd legally changed her name as soon as she was able. She put Miriam behind her and became Miranda.
Miranda was working three jobs and going to school part time and she was up for an internship that would surely change her life when her soul mate's name appeared.
To her horror and utter disappointment, the name that appeared on her 18th birthday was a woman's name.
Now, times were different. But back then, for the name of her soulmate to be female, was like a killing blow. She was being cut off at the knees just as she was reaching her goals.
There was no way she could make a name for herself if the name upon her wrist was female. That simply wasn't done, not then. You had your dalliances with women behind closed doors and never spoke of them in the work place. Miranda knew there were those that were brave enough to openly have same gendered partners, but it was the mid-70s. Women were only just making strides in a business world dominated by men. The first wave of the feminist movement was nearing its end, and Miranda had ridden the wave as far and as fast as she could. But she wasn't done yet. There were still many places and things she needed to do. But she couldn't do so with a female name upon her wrist.
No, that simply would not do.
Miranda took great measures to keep her name hidden. She covered it with makeup, wore bangled bracelets, long sleeves, Band-Aids. She even thought of having the name removed. She'd heard of people who'd done it but as ill-fated as she had been to have the name of a woman on her wrist, to not have one was even worse. And damn fate and soul-mates to hell! She was fond of the damn mark.
Miranda may not like that her soul-mate was a woman, could not possibly see herself with a woman and still make her dreams come true, but she still held affection for the woman who bore this name. The name, when she was alone rolled off her tongue with the deepest, most sensual caress her tongue could manage.
The name that on nights when she was at her lowest, made her feel loved and cherished even though they'd never laid eyes upon each other or spoken a single word to each other. For all the hard work Miranda had put in to make herself something from nothing, a part of her owed her perseverance to the name upon her wrist. To a woman Miranda was slowly losing hope she would ever meet.
After years of waiting Miranda resigned herself to be without her soulmate for the rest of her life. That was when she met Greg, and they bonded over their despair for fate and decided to make their own destiny.
Miranda had loved him, truly loved him, but when he met his soulmate no amount of her love could keep him with her. He tried, gallantly, for their girls' sake to stay in their marriage. He was a wonderful father but he was a slowly breaking man.
It was known throughout the world to be a devastating blow to a person when you rejected the soul bond to your soulmate. It caused excruciating pain for both parties, especially the party that had been rejected. There were a great many famous artists who had been rejected by their loves and turned their pain into beautiful art, Sylvia Plath, Van Gogh, George Orwell, to name just a few.
To find your soulmate and keep yourself from them, was an agonizing process one no person ever truly envied.
The light of life left Greg's eyes, he could hardly sleep or eat, and he was a shadow of the man he had been before. His soul torn between the family he had already made with Miranda, and the life he was 'destined' to have with Katherine.
Miranda broke first, unable to watch the pain Greg was putting himself and Katherine in. These days no one would believe her to be so selfless, to break her own heart for the person she loved. But she was not as selfish as people made her out to be.
Miranda gave Greg the out he so desperately deserved and wanted and divorced him.
They remained friendly and were raising the girls as best they could. Since the divorce he had married Katherine and was happy. Happier then Miranda could ever remember him being while with her. And while that hurt, it was to be expected. He was with the person whose soul was his perfect match. Where she and Greg meshed well together, they were no perfect match.
Miranda had hit an all-time low, even for her, when Irv started sniffing around her like a hound looking for spilled blood. She was getting older and there was no clear sight of her soulmate on the horizon, no clear sight of any significant other either. Which had suited Miranda just fine. She had her daughters and her work, and that was all she'd needed. Until a few pointed jokes at her single lifestyle turned to jabs and whispers of unfitness to run her empire. As if by being single and without her soulmate she lacked the ability to produce the best of the best.
It was then that she'd realized it was time that she found someone to help throw off the beady man's snuffing nose and intent.
So, she married Stephen Tomilson, a well-respected and independently wealthy lawyer. He seemed like a decent match. She didn't love him, and he didn't love her. They filled a void in each other that both assumed would never be filled. Stephen had lost his soulmate some time ago in a terrible accident, so there was no worry of him finding his soulmate while they were married. And at 46, Miranda's dwindling flame of hope of ever meeting her true love had diminished.
How was Miranda to know that her true love would walk into her life three days after her 48th birthday? How was she to know that fate was a cruel mistress playing with Miranda's emotions? How was she to ever know that the whimsical girl she called into her office that had arrived to interview for the position of her second assistant would be her soulmate?
"Andy Sachs…" The girl held out her hand, and Miranda's eyes roved over the woman carefully, her eyes widening by every inch she looked up. Noting this must be a joke. Human resources couldn't possibly be sending her this…fashion monstrosity.
"Andy?" Miranda questioned, eyebrows practically in her hairline as she remained in her seat and took the offered resume between two gentle fingers as if afraid to touch it and have the girl's lack of fashion sense rub off on her.
"Well, Andrea….but everyone calls me Andy." The girl had introduced herself simply. And for her it was simple. But for Miranda? Oh, for Miranda it was far from simple at all.
For the warmth that speared through Miranda's arm at the introduction caused her to gape, her mouth opening in a silent gasp. The startling warmth did not stop its determined course. The sensation burned through her veins, starting from the epicenter of her wrist where the name of her soulmate was branded into her skin. The immense heat slid up her arm and down her sternum to pulse strongly within her chest, even as some seemed to dribble down into the low part of her stomach. The warmth was so completely encompassing that she felt suddenly faint.
It was fate playing a joke on her at a cosmic level for her soulmate to be the garishly clad wannabe assistant. The girl—for she was merely a girl—no more than 24 at most, with no fashion sense and lacking the basic knowledge of who Miranda was and what she did for a living.
How in the world could they be soulmates?!
It was preposterous.
"Why are you here?" Miranda asked.
"Because I think I could do a good job as your assistant and…"
Miranda rolled her eyes, "Why are you here?" Surly Andrea felt it to. Surely she knew now that no matter her original intentions of being here there was no way they could continue on in that path.
"Human resources told me it was either here or Auto Universe." Miranda was surprised.
Miranda looked up and down the woman's form again. The clothes were horrendous and the vest did nothing for her figure. There was a beautiful curvaceous female figure beneath those pieces of fabric that was hidden, Miranda was sure of it.
"You don't read Runway, do you?"
"No."
"And before today, you had never heard of me, had you?"
"No."
"You have no style or sense of fashion."
"Well, I think that depends on…"
"No, no, that wasn't a question." Miranda looked down at Andrea's resume and garnered as much information from it as she could. There were some impressive experiences noted there. It seemed the girl was very active in college and high school.
Miranda tried not to become breathless at the notion that this woman—her soulmate—had graduated high school in 2002. 2002 when Miranda was celebrating her eighteenth year as Editor in chief of Runway.
"I see you were the Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Northwestern. Impressive."
Andrea—Andy—smiled at the opportunity to talk about her work and started to gush forth otherwise useless information. "I also won a nationwide competition for college journalists with my series on the janitor's union…"
Miranda pursed her lips and held her hand up to stall whatever else was going to come out of the woman's mouth. Unless it was a profuse apology for how royally fucked up the universe was in pairing them together, she didn't want to hear it. Not really.
"That's all."
Miranda turned back to the spreads upon her desk, pulling up the post-it-note she'd been writing before Andrea had walked into her office and changed everything. The words upon the stark yellow post it were unreadable. Not because her handwriting was illegible but that she couldn't seem to focus enough on the words to see them, just the stark garish yellow. She would just need to wait for her body to come back to its normal self and calm down.
The heat generated from her soul mark was beginning to itch with the heat it was giving off.
"Listen, I may not know much about fashion, but I'm smart and resourceful and I will work very hard for you and…"
Miranda looked up and said nothing.
Andrea sighed, "That's…what I…thank you for your time." Andrea turned and left.
Miranda stared at the now vacant spot until Nigel breezed into her office and made a snide comment about a before and after piece. It almost made Miranda smirk. Almost.
The warmth began to fade away and Miranda felt an inscrutable loss as it did. So much so, against all her better judgement, she called to Emily and had her go after the wretched girl and bring her back. It was one mistake of many she made when it came to her connection with Andrea.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Miranda makes very many mistakes when it comes to Andrea Sachs. She would not verbally admit to any of them aloud, but internally, late at night while lying in an empty bed, she can admit to the darkness around her, that she has made mistakes. The worst of which, it turned out, had not been hiring Andrea, but in allowing her to pervade her life.
As promised, Andrea was smart and resourceful and a quick study. Andrea learned what it took to make it in her job and she dove in with a gusto Miranda had not seen in years. Of course, it doesn't hurt that Nigel was now playing fairy god-father to the young woman, but it wasn't just Nigel's makeover that has cast a spell on Miranda. It was Andrea herself. Andrea and her beautiful cheery smile that she's greeted to every morning. Or the farewell she was given as she stalked out of the office at all hours of the night. It was the way Andrea learned and craved more knowledge and once she had it found the best place to use that knowledge. It was how being close to the young woman ignited a fierce drive in Miranda herself that she had not felt in decades.
It's everything about the young woman. Until, suddenly it's not.
When Andrea walked up the stairs and witnessed one of the many, practically nightly, fights between her and Stephen, Miranda was not filled with the encompassing warmth she had become familiar with. No, she was filled with shame. Shame that Andrea has seen the life that Miranda had made for herself, without Andrea. And worst of all, how lacking it truly was.
How terrible it must be for Miranda—a woman with everything—to have a husband who can't stand her. A woman who had succeeded professionally in all ways but had failed miserably in her personal life (at least when it came to spouses).
After that evening Miranda took great pains to detach herself from Andrea. To close the woman off. She gave her an impossible challenge, knowing she would fail. She does it because she's spiteful and embarrassed. She didn't expect Andrea to prevail and when she did, what was there for Miranda to say? She mutely shook her head and watched as Andrea stalked back to her desk—a desk she had rightly earned at this point—and did her work.
Maybe her biggest mistake was inviting Andrea to Paris. It was not entirely professional of her to invite the woman to Paris with her, but she does. Andrea has proven herself time and time again. It was also that Miranda needed Andrea near. She needed to feel their connection more now than ever. The rest of her life was falling to pieces and she was scrambling to put them back together, the one thing that she could call her own was the connection she had with Andrea. Even if they've never spoken of it. Never mentioned it to one another. Miranda was sure that Andrea felt it to, that she was aware of it.
Perhaps it was not in inviting Andrea to Paris that she made her biggest mistake, but it was in her inability to trust Andrea with the truth. If she had just told Andrea of her plans, or just once spoke of their soul-bond, maybe, just maybe Andrea wouldn't have left her.
When Andrea walked away from Miranda, she felt it, like a knife wound to the sternum. There was an indescribable pain that filled her chest with dread, so she turned. She turned and saw that Andrea was not behind her, nor was she by the car, rather she was across the street walking away from her. It was in that moment that Miranda understood panic. She had not felt panic since the twins were two years old and they'd broken out into 102 fevers, but she felt it settle in around her as she watched Andrea leave her.
There was nothing she could do. No, that was not true. She could run after the girl and demand an explanation. She could leave this show and chase after her soulmate and understand why Andrea had decided to leave her now—after opening up to her in ways she had not opened up to anyone in her entire life. She let Andrea see her tears. Tears—something she often liked to believe she was incapable of shedding. She let Andrea hear her fears and worries for the girls now that she and Stephen were divorcing. She allowed Andrea into her heart. Not completely, but she had begun to allow her defenses down when it came to the younger woman.
Hadn't that been enough?
Or was she too slow?
Miranda didn't know. She made a choice though, just as Andrea had made a choice to walk away from her. Miranda chose her job. She chose Runway, and her career. She remained at the show and when she returned to the hotel in search of Andrea—it was too late. Andrea had already come and gone. When accounts payable called her and informed her that Andrea was attempting to switch her plane ticket home, she told them to cover it.
Miranda spent the rest of fashion week in a daze. She went to all the shows, said and did the right things, but inside she was reeling from the loss far more profound than the coming loss of her second husband.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
When Miranda returned to New York it was to an empty home.
Stephen had already left and the girls were still with their father. When they returned Miranda would have to explain how Stephen was no longer going to be a part of their lives. She could not imagine explaining to them how it was not because of his departure that she was heartbroken, but in the fact that her soulmate had left her. They were still too young to understand that not everyone had happily ever after with their soulmates, and that was a lesson she would not be teaching them. At least not anytime soon.
When they arrived home, Miranda was waiting for them. She had made their favorite meal for dinner, a lemon chicken risotto, and the girls shared a solemn look with each other before joining Miranda at the table.
Miranda asked them about their time with their father, even though they had spoken every day that she was gone. They gave half interested answers, both tense and quiet. Their answers were short but hardly sweet.
"What is it, mom?" Caroline finally asked, unable to take the tension anymore.
Miranda put down her cutlery and looked at her daughters. Her beautiful, wonderful, intelligent, daughters. "Stephen and I are getting a divorce."
"Oh…" Cassidy whispered while Caroline remained silent.
"I'm sorry if that hurts you, Bobbsey, that is the last thing I want to do…"
"No, mommy, it's okay. We're okay." Cassidy reassured. "He wasn't your soulmate."
"No, no he was not."
"So he won't be living with us anymore?"
"No. He has already left."
"Good." Caroline, spoke up for the first time, nodding her head definitively.
"Caroline?" Miranda asked, eyes wide.
"I hate Stephen. He's mean, and says terrible things to you, and he always smells." With each of her descriptions Miranda winced. How could she have not known?
"Cassidy?" Miranda turned to her youngest, wondering if the feelings were mutual.
"He, he was…okay. I guess. But he was never really interested in us. He couldn't tell us apart and never wanted to talk to us." Cassidy was less adamant as her sister but it was clear she felt the same way the more she spoke.
"We're glad he's gone." Caroline said again.
"Yeah, now maybe you can find your soulmate!" Cassidy pipped up, smiling brightly at the prospect of her mother finding her true love.
"Yeah, mom. Now you don't have to worry about being married to someone that isn't your soulmate. You can find them and be happy!" Which meant, her children didn't think she was happy now.
And was she? Was she happy? Miranda liked to think she was. She was happy when she was with her children. She was happy when she was doing what she loved, no matter how incompetent her staff could be, and she was happy when she was with Andrea. But she was not with her children all the time, and the stress of her job often weighed heavily on her shoulders, and Andrea who smiled at her and made her life easy and manageable and wanted her to be happy—who made her happy—was gone.
Andrea was gone.
"Mom?" Caroline asked, eyes widening.
"Mommy?" Cassidy echoed, horrified to see tears falling from her mother's eyes.
The twins looked at each other and jumped from their seats and rushed to stand on either side of their mother. Miranda sobbed, the sound breaking past her defenses and startling everyone in the room. She covered her mouth to hold in the rest of her sobs, but her body shook with them as she realized what she had lost.
The twins wrapped their eyes around Miranda's shoulders, each placing a head upon one, and squeezed as their mother cried. Their hearts breaking at each tear that fell.
Andrea was gone. But that did not mean Miranda could not find happiness again. She had been happy before Andrea, and she would be happy again. She had to be. For the girls.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
When Miranda returned to the office to find Emily hobbling around in a cast and with crutches and a new girl sitting at Andrea's desk, the tightness in her chest returned and she raced to her office to keep her staff from seeing her tears. She let two slip free before she bulldozed forward.
Andrea was gone.
Andrea would not greet her at the elevator with a cheery good morning. Andrea would not be sitting at her desk diligently doing her work whenever Miranda looked up—needing to just see the girl. Andrea would not wish her a good evening with that same blinding smile every night when Miranda made her way out of the office. These were just facts of life that she would need to get used to.
Andrea was gone and the new girl could do nothing right.
The first assistant lasted a day. The second lasted a week but at the end of the week when Miranda received a request for a reference for Andrea from Greg Hill at The New York Mirror, the new girl never stood a chance. At the slightest misstep she was released and Emily went back to the hiring pool.
"Find me someone competent this time, or it will be you that is served a pink slip." Miranda threatened as she passed by Emily's desk, stalking into the copy room where she quickly scribbled out a short and biting reference and scanned it to the New York Mirror's office—she'd looked up the fax number herself. Then, she shredded the proof of her reference and didn't look back.
Just as Andrea did not look back after waving to from across the street. Miranda watched the woman walk confidently through the New York City crowd, and her heart swelled.
Maybe, just maybe, Andrea wasn't gone.
End Part 1