A/N: 2 AM on a Monday... As good a time as any to update, if you ask me. I'm going to apologise in advance; not much happens in this one, but I kind of needed to string things along. Maybe I'll post the next one early... MAYBE. As per, many thanks to all of you who reviewed/favourited/followed this story so far, you all brighten my days considerably.

~Naralanis


"Wake up."

Andy grumbled in her sleep and pawed at the hand that was trying to shake her into the world of the living. She could feel the blood thumping in her head like a hammer; her eyes stung and her throat was hoarse. Mildly aware of a sharp source of light from behind her lids, she buried her head further into the pillow. They're not taking me now, she grumbled.

"Mum! Wake up!"

Andy shot up through the drowsy haze in flash, immediately regretting the decision once she began seeing spots from behind her lids, an acute dizziness enveloping her along with strong nausea. She tried opening her eyes, but the light blinded her.

"Hey, mum! It's almost noon, you gotta get outta bed. Claire made pancakes!" Allie tittered about, hopping on the bed and bouncing, eager to get the day started. Andy attempted a half-smile at the child, but found that her muscles were stiff.

Before she could respond to her daughter's demands, however, another presence made itself known in the room. Andy flinched once she recognized the tone; seemingly calm and nonchalant, but carrying an underlying reprieve she just knew was not meant for the little girl.

"Allie, dear, why don't you go get started on your pancakes before they get cold? I'll help your mother up."

Allie eyed the two women curiously and raised a quizzical eyebrow before relenting and hopping off, sparing her mother a chaste kiss on the cheek as she went. Andy's muscles seemed to be gradually shedding their stiffness, so she saw the girl out with a forced smile. She heard the soft footsteps of her assistant making their way to the bed. Expecting a reprimand, she did not even bother to open her eyes fully before facing her discipliner.

What she did not expect was a strong whack at the side of her head that made her see stars, aggravating her headache considerably.

"Ouch! What was that for?" she yelped, holding her throbbing head in her hands. She finally managed to crack one eye open, only to see her assistant dressed for the day in one of her custom pantsuits, arms crossed over her chest and a murderous expression on her face.

"That's for raiding the bloody liquor cabinet. How dare you. Your daughter thinks you have a cold because I couldn't bring myself to tell her you were just plastered last night, but we agreed, Andy, that she'd never see you like that again!"

Andy immediately froze in place, flashes of her stumbles up the stairs flooding her mind. She could vaguely remember breaking a glass or two. Guilt washed over her like a cold-shower, and she hid her face in her hands in shame.

"Oh, god, did she—"

"She woke when you left the study. I told her to go back to bed instead of coming to your room, but she's a bright kid. She knows something was off."

The brunette groaned and supressed a few angry tears. The night before had simply been too stressful; the meeting with Miranda had left her with more pent-up tension than she could ever remember. Since she couldn't just go and throttle the woman herself — she was certain there were at least a couple of laws against that — the company of a bottle of bourbon seemed like the best next alternative. And it had worked, in a way.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled, meaning it. Claire released a resigned sigh and unceremoniously slumped next to Andy on the bed.

"I had Mary take care of the mess you left in the study. Allie didn't see it."

Andy took the blonde's hand in her own, lacing their fingers together softly. She shot the other woman a grateful glance, which was acknowledged by Claire with a reassuring nod.

"Just promise you'll never do it again." She scolded.

"I promise" Andy said truthfully.

The two women sat in silence for a few moments, contemplating the situation. Claire was the first one to speak.

"So I guess I don't need to ask how the... meeting went, right?"

Andy visibly cringed at the memory of the previous night. Miranda had been a backstabbing, manipulative, grade-A bitch, but then again… What else had she expected? Certainly not a bout of compassion or God forbid, any other human emotion. She relayed the specifics of their encounter to Claire, who bristled and flushed red with anger.

"What the in the bloody He-"

"Claire, just don't. It's done."

The blonde fumed.

"What right does she think she has? Can't you see this? She wants you back in her claws, I swear to bloody God, that woman! How dare she-"

"She's Miranda Fucking Priestly, Claire. Of course she dared" Andy retorted sarcastically.

Claire shot her boss, her friend, a bewildered look, seething.

"She didn't give you a choice! That bitch!"

Suddenly, Andy's expression turned dark, and the blonde gulped audibly at the sudden change. She thought the brunette would fly off the handle, but was thrown in for a loop when she saw a shark-like grin tug at the other woman's lips in a diabolical fashion.

"A-Andy?" she stammered, for once legitimately afraid.

"Oh, no, Claire. She did give me a choice" Andy said, her voice dark, yet amused. "Several, in fact. And I intend to pick just the right one… She thinks she got the last laugh. We'll see. I'm going to stick it to Miranda Priestly."

"Andy?" Claire tried; she'd never seen her friend look so… evil. "Something tells me you're going to go a bit… extreme with this. Think about what you're doing."

Andy took a moment to flash a more familiar grin toward the blonde, stroking her cheek affectionately.

"Oh Claire, I have. And, just so you know, I'm going thermonuclear."

Claire gulped.


"The Saxton show's been cancelled." Said a deep, exotically accented voice.

"What!?" Emily blanched, immediately nauseous at the news. What the Hell had happened?

"It wasn't cancelled, Serena, don't give her a heart attack" Nigel scolded, although he was also on edge, as was anyone else that had anything to do with Fashion in London at the moment. "It was rescheduled at the last minute. Which, honestly, isn't much better."

An official statement from the Saxton studios had made its way through the grapevine stating that the much-awaited showing from the Fashion World's beloved and elusive Alexandra would not be taking place as scheduled. No reason given, no explanation whatsoever, only a change of time and venue to the last possible timeslot that could still be considered within Fashion Week. Of course, the whole thing turned into a logistic nightmare, and there were rumours circulating, ranging from cursed couture to the untimely death of the mysterious designer. Nigel and Emily, however, knew better. They both knew Miranda had met with Andrea, and the two could only imagine what had transpired between the two. Nigel didn't think the death of Alexandra was so far-fetched; he and Emily had attempted to contact Andy numerous times since they had learned of the meeting between the two forces of nature that were Alexandra and Miranda, to no avail.

"Bloody Hell. Does Miranda know?" Emily asked.

"I don't think so. She's been in an absolutely terrific mood all morning" Serena relayed, shrugging her elegant shoulders.

"Why would she be in a terrific mood? Are you sure we're talking about Miranda?" the redhead retorted. In all her years working with the Ice Queen, she could count on one hand the number of times Miranda had been in a 'good' mood.

"Apparently Anna ran into some problems, so she's missed her first deadline in twelve years" Nigel said helpfully.

Emily's eyes widened while Serena's jaw actually snapped open in surprise.

"Well, that would certainly put her in a good mood. What kind of problems?" Emily couldn't help but ask, legitimately curious. Anna Wintour's infamy was rivalled only by Miranda's, and both women were notorious for their overblown demands for perfection. Missing a deadline was huge, especially between those two, especially for any special edition during any Fashion Week. No doubt Miranda would draw out Anna's suffering for years to come over the mishap.

"You know as well as I do everyone at Vogue has NDA's, as do we. It must have been a doozy to set them back so close to the deadline." Nigel explained.

"It doesn't matter; as soon as Miranda finds out the Saxton show has been cancelled…"

"Rescheduled."

"Whatever. As soon as she finds out, it'll be a shitstorm, I'm telling you."

Nigel and Emily shared a knowing glance that went unnoticed by the blonde Brazilian. They had not discussed Alexandra Saxton's real identity with anyone other than themselves, and so far, they seemed to be the only ones who knew. Besides Miranda, of course. Emily was dying to know what had happened, but Andy had remained unreachable. This cancelling… Or rescheduling of the Saxton showing could not mean anything good. Nigel turned to his redheaded friend once Serena left the room to solve some crisis with a particularly moody model.

"Any news from Andy?"

Emily shook her head in the negative, her shoulders slumping.

"None whatsoever. She won't take my calls." She paused for a second before lowering her voice to a barely-audible whisper "You don't think Miranda killed her, do you?"

"Don't be ridiculous" Nigel retorted, though he did not seem entirely confident. He knew Miranda wouldn't go so far as to murder someone. But Andy's silence was disconcerting nonetheless.

"I'm pretty sure Miranda gave her the binder back. At least Eliza saw no sign of it." Emily pondered.

"Do you really think Miranda just handed it back, no questions asked? Come on, Emily. She obviously pulled something that's making Six duck and cover, mark my words."

"How can you be so sure?" Emily asked without thinking.

Nigel's tone grew dark, and his eyes glazed over momentarily.

"I don't know, Emily, previous experience, maybe?" he snapped, effectively silencing the redhead.

Miranda's stunt during Paris Fashion Week nearly eight years prior was still an extremely sore topic with the Art Director. It didn't matter that the James Holt venture had gone belly-up barely two years after its inception. Miranda had gone behind his back, and that still hurt. He had eventually forgiven her for unwittingly saving him from the failure that the enterprise had been, but he would never forget how the Queen of Fashion had moved him about like a pawn in a game of chess. Nigel's career had basically stilled; he had been stuck in a limbo in the Art Department for way too long. It had taken a lot of Emily's pleading not to tender his resignation at a few points. The redhead had quite unintentionally become his new pet-project: he had groomed her to take his place as Art Director, a move that he honestly believed was ready to happen. It needed, however, Miranda's approval, and he doubted it had any chance of occurring any time soon.

"Whatever Miranda did, it was enough to make Six go through the nightmare that is rescheduling a showing this late in the game. Everyone is beside themselves, and Andy's too cautious to do that nilly-willy" he reasoned.

"It is rather strange" Emily conceded "I mean, does she think people will just stick around for the show when it's so late?"

"It's Alexandra Saxton; of course they will."

"Point taken. Should we tell Miranda?"

"About what? The showing? I'm surprised she hasn't heard of it by now. She'll get wind of it sooner or later. For now I'd much rather let her enjoy Anna's failure." Nigel said with a roll of his eyes. Truth was, he had no wish to be in the Dragon's path once she found out the show had been cancelled. Rescheduled. Miranda had been Alexandra Saxton's number one fan; that is, before she knew the designer was in fact her former assistant.

When Emily had come running into Nigel's suite after her breakfast meeting with Miranda, he had prepared himself for the worst. He was not in the least surprised at Miranda's dirty tactics to get a name out of the Junior Editor. Emily was certain that the Bitch in Heels would do anything to destroy anything related to Alexandra Saxton after finding out, but Nigel wasn't so sure. Sure, Miranda had considerable power, maybe even enough to thoroughly mess things up for Andy, but at what cost? Alexandra Saxton was the apple of the Fashion World's eye, it would be insane to go to war for pettiness' sake.


"You are completely, certifiably, utterly and irrevocably insane."

Andrea took her assistant's growl in stride. True, she had sprung up the impossible on Claire's lap, but if anyone could handle it, it was the blonde. Still, the fact that she had managed it was nothing short of a miracle. She simply grinned in response.

"Honestly. There's a rumour going around that you've died. People are going crazy." The blonde remarked as she flipped her ringing phone open with a flick of the wrist.

"Let them" Andy shrugged her shoulders. Yes, the rescheduling of her much-awaited show was a lot more than unconventional: it was basically a disaster, logistics-wise. Alexandra certainly would not be making any new friends with the ballsy, and, she had to admit, rather presumptuous move. Still, it was a necessary evil; and she knew that it would all be worth it by the end of Fashion Week. As Claire barked into her mobile angrily, Andy busied herself with some fabric samples; all part of her meticulous planning for Operation Flipping the Bird to Miranda Priestly. She cringed; it definitely needed a better name.

She turned when Claire poked at her shoulder.

"I've got Miranda Priestly on the line for Andrea Sachs. Immediately." The blonde rolled her eyes, an action that was becoming increasingly common whenever Runway's Editor-in-Chief was concerned.

Ah, speak of the Devil.

"Tell her Andrea isn't available. She may talk to Alexandra if she'd like." Andy responded, seemingly nonchalant, but with an evil gleam in her eyes.

Claire eyed her curiously, but relayed the message. The brunette could tell that the line went completely silent for a few long moments. When Miranda finally responded, Claire simply nodded and handed the phone to her boss, with a look that clearly said 'it's your funeral'.

"Saxton Studios, how may I help you?" Andy used her brightest, cheeriest tone imaginable. She didn't know exactly how, but she could tell Miranda was fuming over the phone.

"Alexandra Saxton, I presume" the Editor intoned, with her usual sarcasm-laden soft voice.

"Mrs. Priestly, I presume" Andy dared, knowing the designation would only incense Miranda further.

"What is this I hear about the cancellation of your next show?" The fashion maven continued, not completely unfazed. Andy grinned evilly.

"I'm not sure where you get your information from, Ms. Priestly, but the show has been merely rescheduled."

"And the reason for the change would be...?"

"None of your business." Andy retorted sharply, which drew an astonished gasp from the other end of the line and a horrified expression from her assistant. No doubt both women were appalled by her rudeness; for different reasons, but still appalled.

"I see. And what of my offer?" Miranda said icily.

"I'll have an answer by the end of Fashion Week, as discussed."

"I don't like to be kept waiting, An-… Alexandra."

Andy shivered. Somehow the way Miranda enunciated her pseudonym sent the same tingles through her abdomen as her pronunciation of her real name. She pushed them down before answering in the bubbliest manner she could manage.

"Oh, yes, I know how a glacial pace thrills you."

There was no answer from the other end. Andy felt ecstatic.

"Good talking to you, Ms. Priestly."

She clicked the phone shut and handed it back to Claire, who was still frozen with an expression of pure terror on her face.

"What?" Andy asked playfully.

"You're bloody insane! Insane!"