Don't get used to frequent updates, my friends. I just happened to have a minute, and I figured I had held out on you enough. So ta-da!
Thanks for reading!
~Naralanis
Serena held the strands of red hair up and away as Emily vomited. She grimaced, not in disgust, but in worry.
The redhead wiped at her mouth, her hand and lips trembling with weakness. She looked so weak, so fragile. Her beautiful blue eyes were glassy, surrounded by dark circles. Her skin was much paler than usual, with an unhealthy grey tinge to it. A sheen of sweat covered her face, making thin strands of hair stick to her forehead and sunken cheeks.
"I can't, I can't… I can't do this." she said softly, in a strangled murmur that broke Serena's heart.
The Brazilian lowered herself onto the cold tile floor, enveloping her girlfriend in her arms, saddened by how cold and weak her body felt in her embrace. The Brit's head fell onto her shoulder in defeat.
The day before, Emily had come home in a manic, almost delusional state. Serena almost considered the possibility she was drugged; she blabbered nonsense and seemed extremely paranoid, all of her neuroses flaring up at the same time. It took a lot of patience and a lot of tact to finally calm the redhead down and get her to speak up about what was going on.
"I'm gonna be Editor in Chief. Editor. Editor in Chief. Editor. Oh, God. Editor in Chief."
The whole thing took a good while to process. Even longer to understand Emily was not having hallucinatory day-dreams, she was just getting an unbelievable promotion… In London.
The situation triggered a string of panic attacks, anxious dreams, and other issues Emily had not had to deal with for quite a long time - ever since she and Serena had started seeing each other. Miraculously, however, the Brazilian seemed to instinctively know how to deal with all of it, breathing with her, calming her down and, perhaps most importantly, loving her unconditionally.
"I can't do it" she said into the blonde's shoulder after the latest vomiting bout "I just can't. Look at me. I bet Miranda never poke her bloody guts out due to nerves."
Serena rubbed comforting circles on her girlfriend's back, letting out a chuckle.
"Querida, you know nothing about Miranda the person. Miranda the Editor, sure, but you have no idea how she would have dealt with it personally. She was a little younger than you are when she became Editor-in-Chief of Runway France. For all we know, she may have fainted when she found out." she reasoned.
"Oh no, not Miranda" the redhead laughed wryly. "She probably knocked the previous Editor out of their chair herself."
Serena laughed, glad that Emily was at least attempting some humour.
"Maybe, maybe not. We'll never know. But you're not Miranda Priestly. You're Emily Charlton. One day, people will speak of you the way they do about Miranda." she said encouragingly.
"Hah!" Emily barked. "I should hope not - Bitch in Heels, The Devil in Prada, Ice Queen…" she trailed off.
"OK, that was a bad example." Serena conceded. "If anything, you'd be the Devil in Westwood" she joked. Emily squeaked.
"I never did care for Prada as much as Miranda does…" she pondered.
"See? Already something different. Prada is so not your style, honey."
"It's not that I don't care for Prada entirely…" Emily began to elaborate, sitting up. Serena was pleased to note that some colour had returned to her cheeks. "It's just… they haven't innovated too much. They're not as daring. They're always amazing, don't get me wrong, but they don't give me goose-bumps. I want goose-bumps. They're creative, but predictable… Am I making any sense?"
Serena smiled broadly, prompting a puzzled look from her girlfriend.
"What?"
"That right there" Serena began "is why Miranda and Elizabeth want you at Runway Britain, querida. You've got talent, you've got eye, and you've got innovative taste, a young, fresh perspective. They want that."
Emily gulped.
"Serena… You know I can't." she said after a heavy pause.
"Nonsense" Serena waved her off with a smile, though her eyes shone with worry. "You can't pass this up. And think about it this way; you'll be back home. You'll be able to see your folks more often..."
"I don't want to 'go back home'! You're my home now, Serena, don't you understand?" Emily countered, her nerves clearly resurfacing. The Brazilian brought her fingers to the redhead's lips, gently telling her to stop speaking.
"I know, querida, I know. I love you, and there is a part of me that wants you to stay right here with me — you're my home as well." She began softly.
"So I stay" Emily interrupted, speaking through the fingers resting on her lips.
"No" Serena shook her head. "I can't let you pass this up. Think about it, what if it were the other way around? What if Miranda had decided I should go to Runway Brazil, or something? I know you would encourage me to go" she reasoned.
"No I wouldn't" Emily countered adamantly. "Runway Brazil is a glorified version of Playboy." She added, making Serena laugh.
"That is exactly why you would make me go — so I could fix it!" said with a smile, eliciting a disappointing grumble from the redhead.
"Emily" The Brazilian continued "you have to go. You are destined for great, great things. I truly believe, from the bottom of my heart, that you have what it takes to become one of the greatest Runway Editors of all time. Maybe one of the greatest fashion EICs of all time, right up there with Miranda Priestly."
Emily shook her head in disapproval, but Serena continued, undeterred.
"Miranda knows you have great potential. She does, she's not an idiot. And she may be a manipulative bitch that plays us all like pawns in her little game of chess, but she's not an idiot. She's got vision, and she's got a vision for you."
"I don't bloody care what Miranda thinks. Not this time. Some things are more important than a job, than a career. And you happen to be one of them." She said resolutely.
"I know, I know. I believe you. But you can have both. We can have both. It will be hard, but we can make it work." Serena reasoned, albeit with less conviction than before.
"No, Serena, we can't." Emily choked out, crying once more. "Look at Miranda. Three divorces. Three! One worse than the other. She has no friends, no social life that doesn't revolve around work. She missed most of her daughters' childhood. If she couldn't hold it together, what makes you think that I can?"
"You're not Miranda" Serena said, holding her girlfriend by the shoulders. "We're going to try harder. We have different priorities than she did. I'll call you every night. We'll talk every day, and I can come visit you from time to time…" she began.
"With what time? Are you mad? You'll be busy rejuvenating the entire Art Department, and I'll be in charge… I'll be in charge of an entire magazine! Plus, there's the time difference!" Emily cried.
Serena sighed in defeat.
"I never said it would be easy" she said, the tears that had begun to well in her eyes finally rolling down her cheeks. "But we have to try, Emily, don't you see we have to try? We have to. I would never forgive myself if I held you back from another opportunity."
"Serena…"
"No, let me speak. I got the Art Department. It was your dream, your career to have. You wanted it for years, you worked hard for it… The only reason I have it is because had bigger plans, better things in store for you. If you don't go, you'll be a Junior Editor for God knows how long, and it would be another job you've lost on my account." The Brazilian gasped through her tears.
"Serena… Darling, it wasn't you, it wasn't you! It was Miranda, she was…"
"We have to stop with the Miranda this, Miranda that. Yes, she's an evil, manipulative, frigid bitch that pushes people into corners. She pushed us to this point. But we have to learn to deal. We have to learn how to make difficult choices." Serena said, with almost unwavering certainty.
Emily embraced her girlfriend tightly, and the two held each other, letting their tears and fears out for several minutes. After what had felt like an eternity, they pulled themselves apart, gazing lovingly into each other's' eyes.
"I wish I could hire you, so you could come with me." Emily said sadly.
"I'd be working for you, querida. Don't worry, we'll figure it out" Serena said, moving to embrace her girlfriend once again, a spark of hope suddenly blinking into her mind.
Miranda was annoyed. Well, maybe annoyed wasn't quite the right word to describe her mental state right that second, but she was certainly bothered. She realised that the simple designation didn't do it justice either — besides, the list of things that bothered Miranda Priestly was an extensive one.
She was bothered by Nigel, who seemed to be slacking with all the preparations for Men's Runway. However, as bothered as she was, she had promised him she would not interfere — he was his own Editor in Chief now, after all — so the only thing to do was to remain bothered.
She was bothered by Caroline's secrecy in her preparations for university. For someone who was making the move across the pond for college, Caroline seemed to be remarkably calm about all of it, giving her mother absolutely zero updates on the situation, besides her acceptance letter. Even when prompted, the girl would evade most questions and simply affirm that she had everything under control. Miranda didn't doubt her; she just wished her daughter would involve her in the process a little more, besides providing payment slips.
She was also bothered by fashion, of all things. Well, not fashion in itself, but the way things were going in the fashion world. A string of particularly awful designs led her to drop James Holt altogether, Donna Karan and Thakoon seemed to be suffering from the dreaded post-fashion-week blues, and even Alexandra Saxton — Andrea, she mentally corrected herself— had not shown her as many designs as she would have liked. At least with Andrea there was no lack of inspiration; from what she had seen, it looked like the brunette was simply holding out on her. And that bothered Miranda.
It had been remarkably odd, emailing her personally a few weeks ago. For some reason, she didn't think it was appropriate. Miranda's excuse was that she wanted to be more efficient, but she knew letting their respective assistants deal with contact would probably be a better use of their time. They were both awfully busy women, after all. The truth was, however, that Miranda actually enjoyed her talks with Andrea, be them via email or video-call. She could not deny the extreme relief she felt when they transitioned into a 'friendly' relationship; that certainly spared her more than a few headaches when she needed to deal with the Alexandra Saxton.
But ultimately, what bothered Miranda the most was Emily Charlton and her glacial decision-making pace. The Brit had requested time to discuss the offer with Serena, which was something Miranda pretended to be annoyed about. In truth, the discussion part did not bother Miranda at all, it was a big decision; of course Emily would need to talk to her girlfriend about it. Although she pretended otherwise, she knew just how much of a bombshell she had dropped on the brunette's lap.
What bothered her was that Emily had yet to come to her with a definitive answer, and there was only one more day to the time Miranda had allotted her. It led her to believe her final answer had the potential to be a refusal, although she refused to believe that possibility.
What made Miranda a little more confident about getting a 'yes' from the redhead was Serena. Miranda knew the Brazilian would encourage Emily to go, so she had to make use of that. Serena, with her pure heart, honest intentions and almost annoyingly altruistic spirit. She would not want for Emily to miss such a career-defining opportunity.
Part of Miranda genuinely felt bad for the pair, but that was a part deep, deep down inside, hidden from view from anyone other than herself. Separation would be unpleasant, of course; she knew that better than anyone. But if Emily was not strong enough to handle that, Miranda would have to think twice about making the girl a fellow Editor in Chief.
Still, Emily's delay bothered her. Elizabeth James had already announced her retirement, they needed to move fast. It didn't help that Elizabeth had told Miranda she had a 'just in case' option, a young Beauty Director from Runway Russia by the name of Yelena Galperina. Miranda rolled her eyes at the thought. The Russian Director was talented, but too green. Granted, Emily was technically 'green' as well, but she had worked directly under the Devil in Prada to learn much more than the Yelena woman — whoever she was— could ever grasp.
The ringing of her phone interrupted her train of thought. She picked up without a word; her assistant knew what to do.
"Miranda, Serena from the Art Department wants to have a word with you" Eliza's disembodied voice sounded through the receiver, making Miranda roll her eyes yet again. How many Serenas did that girl think worked that office?
"Send her in." she said, curious about what Serena could possibly want to talk about. Talk about timing.
The tall Brazilian walked into the pristine office with a confident gait that bespoke of a seasoned runway model. God only knew how many times Miranda had tried to get the girl onto her pages, but Serena would have none of it.
The blonde wore a stoic expression and a newer Alexandra Saxton ensemble that for whatever inexplicable reason made Miranda's stomach flutter.
"How can I help you, Serena?" Miranda said, ignoring the flutter and using her best bored tone.
Serena didn't sit. She stood facing Miranda, looking directly at the Editor with a defiant glimmer in her eyes.
"I want to talk to you about Emily." She said, not bothering with formalities.
If Miranda was taken aback by her employee's attitude, she did not show it.
"If this is about Emily's upcoming promotion, I suggest you take it up with her." The silver-haired Editor said coolly.
"I did" The Brazilian retorted acerbically, in a tone that was entirely unlike her. "She will be coming by tomorrow to tell you she is refusing it."
Miranda's eyes widened only slightly, but that was enough to tell Serena she had not been expecting an outright refusal.
"Well, if that is what she…" Miranda started coldly.
"I'm not done" Serena interrupted, her eyes showing a fire the likes of which were unprecedented for her usually reserved personality.
"I'm not about to let Emily ruin her career because you gave her an impossible choice" she continued brazenly. "So I'm making the choice for her."
With that puzzling statement, Serena forcefully slapped a folder onto Miranda's desk. Sparing only a bemused glance at the Brazilian, Miranda opened it cautiously, reading through its contents quickly.
"You're resigning?" she said upon reading it twice, unable to fully conceal her shock. Out of all the outcomes she had considered, she had not seriously thought Serena would sacrifice her career for Emily's. For some absurd reason the realization made her want to laugh.
Serena nodded in confirmation.
"I'm the only thing keeping Emily here. If I'm free to go, she's free to go. It's that simple."
Miranda read over Serena's resignation letter once again. She repressed the inexplicable urge to laugh.
She had completely underestimated Serena, completely overlooked her as a key player, and the blonde had just shown she had some claws. Having one pulled out from under her should have made her furious — it usually did— but right then and there, she just wanted to laugh.
Maybe she was going crazy.
Emily would be just fine with Serena by her side. Just fine.
She looked up at the blonde, who still stood in front of her desk, the look of sheer determination unwavering from her eyes.
Miranda would much rather have to replace an Art Director than a potential Editor in Chief. It was a trade-off she was willing to make.
With a quirk of her eyebrow and a smirk that utterly bewildered the blonde, she took the resignation letter in her well-manicured hands and ripped it into pieces.
"You're fired." She said with a smile, confusing the blonde even further. "Stop by HR on your way out, then by Financial to collect your severance check. That's all."
Serena turned to go, extremely confused by Miranda's antics.
"And Serena?" Miranda's voice called out with more than a hint of mirth.
The Brazilian turned to face her.
"Yes, Miranda?"
"Good luck."