The next in my series of Stories inspired by Heather Peace's album The Thin Line. I think this song is my favorite from the whole album, I love that she writes her own songs and that they actually mean something to her. This one was written for her friend when she came back from Australia with a broken heart. It's beautiful and if it catches me in the right mood it makes me cry!

This way lies angst!


House For Your Broken Heart

In all the years that Nigel Kipling had known Miranda Priestly he had never seen her quite like this. He had stood by her side as she rose through the ranks of Elias-Clarke, married, had the twins, divorced and earned every moniker from Dragon Lady to Snow Queen but this, this was all new. Since Paris, Runway had been worse than hell, a day didn't go by without someone leaving in tears and ultimately being fired but that wasn't exactly what had him so worried. They were used to high staff turnover, Miranda regularly fired someone if she did not feel that they were pulling their weight or if she wanted to breath new life into the magazine but these firings, he didn't think they were covered by either of those reasons. This was something else, something that Nigel knew no one, except maybe Emily, would have picked up on and it worried him.

Over the past six months Nigel had been noticing changes in his friend, small changes, positive changes that were only obvious to Nigel who had known her for so long. He had gotten the impression that she was suddenly comfortable, happy in her own skin. He could see it in the twinkle of her eyes and the glow he occasionally saw in her skin. He wasn't sure what had caused it, not immediately, but he was sure that she had found the thing that he had wanted for her all along, what ever it was that she needed to realise her true worth.

But post Paris? Post Paris, any steps that had been taken in a positive direction had been hastily retraced plus several more besides. The twinkle in her eyes was gone, replaced with nothing, Miranda's eyes, usually the most expressive part of her face if you cared to look had become dull and hard over night, the glow in her skin had been replaced with a sallowness that was barely hidden by expensive make up and she had lost weight. Not enough for anyone else to notice but enough that he could see where her usually perfectly tailored clothes didn't quite sit on her body the way they should.


The final straw however, came the day when The Book landed on his desk accompanied by a frazzled Emily. The art department had returned the book early and had asked Emily if she could get Miranda to clarify some of her points. Emily had almost laughed in their faces, until she had actually looked at the notes her boss had left the previous night and nearly fainted.

"Nigel, what on earth!" she squealed, flicking through the book and pointing out the scribbled notes that were almost illegible throughout, "I can't exactly go into her office and ask her what all of this means, the way she's been lately she'll fire me before I even finish my sentence."

"Oh calm down Emily, go and eat a cube of cheese or something." he said, rubbing his hand over his head and trying to mask his true concern, there was a great difference between Miranda being hell to work with and Miranda making a mess of her work. Which was why he found himself pushing through the townhouse door with the book tucked under his arm and the dry cleaning hanging over his shoulder.

"Emily." taking a breath and holding onto the fact that he was her closest friend and he was doing this out of concern, Nigel hung the dry cleaning in the closet then followed the voice to the downstairs den, "Where on earth is Emily?"

"Emily is, elsewhere." He said, taking in the sight of his friend without her make up then the half empty bottle of whiskey and almost over flowing ash tray on the table beside her and frowned, this was very, very bad and he knew that only one person had caused this. It wasn't Stephen and the divorce, she had confided in him the night before her wedding that she was only marrying the man because he seemed like he would make a good father figure for the twins, not things had started changing when Andrea Sachs had appeared in her lumpy sweater and awful shoes. Who would have thought little old Andy could break the Dragon. "And we need to talk."

"Oh we do, do we?" she asked with a raised eyebrow and he could hear that her voice was slightly slurred now, "And what could we possibly have to talk about? Hmmm?"

"How about the fact you've lost weight, or maybe the fact that its nine o'clock, the twins are upstairs and you are drunk, or maybe, just maybe, that the art department sent The Book back with no changes made because they couldn't read anything you had written because clearly you reviewed it last night in much the same state you are now." Emily would have fainted if she had heard him talking to Miranda like that, in fact, anyone would have but he had weathered far too many storms with Miranda Priestley to care, "Now you can deny it all you like Miranda but I know you and I know that something is going on, I wont leave until you talk to me."

"And say what?" she sneered, knocking back the rest of her drink in one go, "That she left me? That I told her that I thought I might love her and she ran a mile in the opposite direction. That I'm really as repulsive as everyone says that I am."

"Six?" he asked quietly, while he had made links to Miranda's improving then spiraling mood and the brunettes presence at Runway he hadn't for one moment expected love, lust perhaps, a way for Miranda to feel young and carefree, even hero worship from six but love and that Miranda had told Andrea well, it was no real surprise that she had just dissapeared.

"Andrea," she choked out and he was shocked to find her crying, in all the years he had known her it was one thing he had never seen her do and he floundered for a moment trying to work out what course of action to follow, "ill advised of course but by god Nigel, I could actually see a future with her."

Taking the weight off his feet before he actually fell down he pushed the book onto the table and turned fully to face his friend, taking her hand and squeezing it lightly. She looked totally broken, here in the privacy of her own home where she had let go of all of her walls to reveal just how broken she really was. He needed to call 'Six' she had been busy with the new job, it almost felt like she was avoiding him actually, but he needed to talk to her and soon and find out what really happened. Until he knew where the journalist stood he couldn't even begin to help the Editor move on because by god did she need help. All he could do for now was listen while she cried out her self deprecation, then later help her to bed where she would cry herself to sleep.