See disclaimer, Chapter 1.

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Miranda knew Andréa had fallen asleep just over halfway through the film. She got up and put a blanket over the young woman, looking at her for a moment before going back to her chair, committing herself to stay for the rest of the film before she went to bed.

By the time the credits rolled, however, her mind was occupied with thoughts of the young woman sleeping peacefully on her sofa. The idea that Andréa, of all people, would somehow become her saviour was laughable. After so many instances where she'd made irrefutable errors, or been obnoxiously rude, she remained. Not only that, she had excelled where others had failed.

And yet.

There was something about this woman that fascinated Miranda. People interested her in general, she loved seeing what made someone tick and what their boundaries were, but this woman was something else. She wanted to nurture this woman to greatness. She was intelligent, funny and something else that Miranda had not believed existed anymore. Andréa was genuinely kind and gentle. Even in this city, that seemed to break almost everyone who lived here, she remained so. Andrea seemed to care deeply about all three Priestly women. She seemed to adore them as no one ever had, perhaps outside of Cara and Roy - two people she paid exceptionally well to do so.

What confused Miranda was that Andréa was paid as well. But it felt so different and that did not make any sense. Andréa being her assistant should have felt the same as it felt with Cara or Roy but if she thought about it truthfully, it wasn't. It wasn't anything close to the relationship her family had with Cara and Roy. Cara had been as close a friend as Miranda had ever had. She had helped her through some of the hardest parts of her life, from the birth of her twins, the breakdown of her marriage. The death of her mother. She'd been there for every instance of their lives. Loyal and true and Miranda genuinely enjoyed talking to her. She was a sensible woman who didn't take any of Miranda's shit, at all.

But again, Andréa felt different.

Perhaps Andréa was right about them being made to bring each other to greatness. Andréa could certainly read Miranda like a book. She seemed to know what Miranda was thinking before Miranda herself even thought about it. It was, she sighed, beautiful. Freeing. She could suddenly trust someone to be there and do what they said they were going to do without worrying about them suddenly leaving her or disappearing, or breaking their promise.

But, it was also terrifying.

She knew that at some point, Andréa would realise how much greatness she could have, how much power. And Miranda dreaded that day, even now, at the beginning of their partnership.

"Stop thinking so hard," Andréa muttered, rolling over on the sofa.

It was almost comical that Andréa could even read her in darkness. She had left the lights off in order to prevent Andréa from waking, but it seemed she had done that herself. She wasn't too upset though. In darkness, it was easier to say what was needed to say.

"I get paid to think of all the possible outcomes," she whispered. "That is all I am doing."

"You're worrying," Andréa mumbled, curling into the cushions. "Trust me to take care of you."

"Trust is a big thing to give. Especially for someone who trusted so freely at one point and has been punished for it every time."

She couldn't believe she'd said that.

"It is," Andréa sighed, rolling back onto her back. "But you have to remember that I am not them. I am not anything like them, whoever they are. I'm with you and only you. And you need to trust me to stick around. I made you a promise and I'm going to keep it."

"Andréa," Miranda sighed. "At some point, someone will come along and make you an offer that you simply cannot refuse. I doubt it would be a monetary one as you don't seem particularly motivated by that, but it will be something that you crave and you will take it. Because I will make you. You cannot be my assistant forever."

"You also can't be the Runway Editor forever," Andréa whispered, making Miranda strain to hear it. "They'll come at you again and again but you'll weather it until you're ready. And when you're ready, I will be too. There is no point being your assistant when you don't really need one."

"Andréa. You are so young."

"I'm not naive," Andréa said, sitting up suddenly. Miranda almost regretted waking her. "Miranda, I'm not. I'm not going to pretend you're not way more experienced in the world of business. But I'm stubborn and there's no better editor to learn from, than you. I wouldn't ever want your job, I don't live and breathe fashion like you, I wouldn't be able to do what you do at Runway. But," she said insistently. "I can learn more from you than anyone else in this city. I'm not playing down, Miranda, I'm watching, I'm learning. I'm shadowing you and listening to you. This is as much for me as it is for you. You are training Emily up to take your job? Well, I'm there too. Only I'm not going to take your job, I'm sure as hell gonna be taking someone else's."

Miranda considered that and she realised how truly symbiotic this was and she laughed.

"You are a dark horse, Andréa Sachs," she smiled.

"I'm not sitting around on my hands," Andréa muttered and Miranda could just make out the shrug. "Trust me."

"Never hide from me Andréa," Miranda whispered. "Don't frighten me and don't surprise me. I," she chewed on her lip, something she'd not done for a long time. "Please."

"I won't," Andréa said and Miranda could hear the smile. "I promise."

"Alright," Miranda sighed. They fell silent for a moment before she realised Andréa was watching her. "Go to bed will you?"

Andréa laughed.

"Yes, Miranda."

"I'm beginning to like that even more," Miranda quipped, making Andréa laugh again.

She watched the silhouette of Andréa stand and hesitate for a moment. She saw her look at the door, then down at her hands.

"Does anyone ever hug you, Miranda?"

"No," Miranda said contemplatively.

"Can I?" She hesitated. "Again? As a thank you for doing this for me. And as a thank you for trusting me?"

"You," she hesitated. "May," Miranda said, also standing.

Unlike the last quick hug Andréa had given her, this one was something different. Her arms were much longer than they looked and they wrapped around her tightly. Securely. She stood for a little while, feeling lost until she remembered that hugs were two-way things. She wrapped her arms around the woman's body, surprised at how thin she was. Andréa's scent was gentle, subtle, but everywhere and she couldn't bite back a sigh as Andréa rubbed her back gently.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," Miranda said absently as Andréa pulled away. "Thank you for the hug."

"Any time," Andréa quipped. "I'm a hugger, so there's always one if you want one."

"I will remember."

"Alright, g'night, Miranda Priestly."

"Good night to you, Andréa Sachs."

She watched as Andréa left the room and she contemplated sitting for a while longer and drinking some scotch but she opted against that, knowing what it would do to her already maudlin thoughts. Instead, she headed up the stairs as well. She heard Andréa showering and opted to take hers in the morning.

She took her makeup off, staring at herself in the mirror. There was no denying that life had been harsh, but that she had been lucky it did not show too much on her skin. She'd long worried that the stress would lead to the deep-seated crows-feet her mother had. Thankfully, the only thing that had suffered had been her rich auburn hair and even that had turned out to be a blessing. She flicked away that lock that hung over her eye and really looked at herself.

She had started to feel old. She'd felt it creeping up on her slowly in the last year. Paris had culminated in that feeling being overwhelming when she'd received that fax, the young man on the desk stammering in poor English as he tried to explain to her what it was. That moment that Andréa took one look at her, behind the curtain, and fled as all the others had.

The door along the hall closed and Miranda paused.

Not like all the others had.

Not like any of them. Andréa had taken the day, got her shit together and put Miranda in her place. She'd taken all the things that she'd learnt from Emily and she'd bettered them. And then she'd learnt a few things from Nigel and she'd bettered them too. Miranda had no doubts that if Andréa really was shadowing Miranda, like she said she was, Andréa would make a formidable editor someday in the future. She took a moment to close her eyes and consider the City run by two of her most loyal subjects.

It made her smile.

She brushed her teeth and slid under her covers. She realised as she settled, that Andréa gave her something she'd not ever had before. Comfort. Cara gave her friendship, not that she'd ever labelled it as such, but she realised, having seen how Andréa was with her, that it really was that. But Andréa was different. Andréa gave her silence, something she craved. Gave her peace. And Miranda didn't ever want to be without it. She wasn't sure how to be a proper friend to someone, she'd never really had them, even as a child. But she'd figure it out because she could.

She was, after all, Miranda Priestly.