A/N: Oh ye of little faith. It's like y'all don't even know me or have never read my fics.

Also, it's clear not all of you read these, lol

I'm not ever going to leave without giving you the soppiest, sappiest happy ending ever. Come on now. It's me!

But also, thank you for all the support.

See disclaimer, Chapter 1.

-0-

Miranda hadn't moved from her chair since Andréa had fallen to her knees and begged her to be someone that she was not. The futility of it all was startling. In order to be the best, she could not afford to take time off for silly children's parties! She needed to be at Runway, creating perfection. In order for Runway to remain the best, she needed to be the best.

A snide little voice in her ear asked if she would have missed Cassidy and Caroline's party and she tamped down on it quickly. She tried to think of an instance where she hadn't dropped everything for them and was just on her way to explaining to herself that this was different this time, when a distant knocking disturbed her solitude.

She checked the cameras and found Nigel on the stoop. She was tempted to not answer so she hesitated and watched as he knocked again. It was clear he wasn't going away. Huffing, she went to open the door.

"You are a dickhead," he hissed in lieu of greeting as he barged his way past her.

"I beg your -"

"You are an absolute moron."

"Nigel!"

"You told me you'd found that one thing. That happiness that we'd heard whispers of all our lives. That happiness that sets our souls on fire, that makes us smile whenever we think about it. You told me that I should find that too, that yours was so perfect that you couldn't believe there was such happiness on Earth. So, I did and I am loving it, Miranda. And then," he stared at her. "Then, Jocelyn tells me you chose Runway over Samuel. Over that little boy." She couldn't meet his eyes. "Who thinks the sun shines out of your ass." She hugged her stomach, trying to keep from vomiting as he kept going. "What's worse is, he doesn't understand. He doesn't understand adults get scared and run away sometimes. He's a baby. And you have damaged him." She blinked at him and felt the truth squeezing her heart. "What the fuck happened, Miranda?"

"I," she couldn't really breathe. "Let my -"

"You got scared."

She nodded mutely.

"I was shallow. I let a label come between me and my family. And my fears. For the future."

"A label?"

"They don't call me Mommy," she whispered. It sounded stupid out loud. "It hurts sometimes."

"Tell me honestly, why that matters to you? Because I've known you nearly all your life and I can't think of a single moment where it meant that much to you. You've been labelled all of your life. You hate labels. And the babies who love you so unconditionally call you by the one label you, yourself, chose? Miranda, do you hear how crazy that is? I don't know much about kids, my friend, but I'm pretty sure none of them know the significance of a label, cos labels shouldn't matter! They love you. As their M'anda."

She saw the truth in it but clung to the hurt. She didn't want to feel anything else. She would make do with this hurt. But Nigel hadn't finished.

"You need to go. Get on a plane and go and mend your family, before you lose them. And you can't lose this Miranda, not now. They're your world. Tell me honestly that you wouldn't give Runway up tomorrow for them."

She blinked at him, feeling a great gnawing pit in her stomach opening up.

"Oh," he deflated. "Oh, Miranda."

"I don't want to give up Runway for these people."

"These-" Nigel gaped at her. "You don't have to!" he yelled, frightening her. "God, Miranda, nobody is asking you to! These people are your family! The fact that you would give it up is right! They are your babies! You spent all of our youth talking about the passel of children you had planned and when you had the twins I saw that dream disappear and your heart break every day they grew and no more babies came. And then, they came into your life. Those people. Like a fucking miracle, Miranda. And you. Came. Alive." The wind dropped out of his sails. "You came alive because those children were exactly what you had always wanted at a time in your life where you were on top of the world. And then Andy. Dear, sweet, put-upon Andy, who loves you like I've never seen love. Who forgives your sins before you make them, who provides you with whatever you need before you even know you need it. Who cares for you, who grounds you, who LOVES you. You've been happier than I have ever seen over this last year. Please," he took her hands. "Please don't let this slip. I understood, with the others, keeping them at arm's length. Avoiding them like you did. I get it. You were a prize. A shiny new car they got to show off to their misogynistic, asshole friends. But Andy loves you, Miranda. She's always loved you. Don't throw that away now," he pleaded.

He stood looking at her, and in a show of how discombobulated she felt, she let him.

"If you can't mend this, you'll regret it forever," he whispered. "I know nobody can tell you anything, but you're my best friend and I would be a terrible person if I didn't say all of this to you," she looked at him. "Don't let your fears ruin your one chance at a lifetime of happiness."

She watched absently as he left, standing in her hallway like she was a stranger in her own home. And yet, all around her was evidence of a family.

Her family.

The photographs on the wall, many of which made her smile as she studied them. She looked at them all, touching them here and there. She laughed at a few, not because they were especially amusing to look at but because she knew there were corresponding funny ones, that Andréa had insisted on taking, on the wall upstairs in the den.

Photos where Miranda was not smirking like she usually did, but outright laughing. Happiness on her face, tears in her eyes. Ones that were for their viewing only.

One, her favourite on her bedside table, where she held Samuel in her arms with the most gentle look on her face that she'd ever seen and all the love she'd ever felt for her children shining out of her eyes as she looked at him, snuggled against her chest. She'd kissed Testino when he'd shown her the print.

A tear found its way down her cheek as she took stock of her life.

The shoes by the door, never in the cupboard under the stairs where she'd have preferred them. And always an odd number, for reasons that she and Andréa could never fathom.

A scarf and a hat tucked just behind the wall in the guest sitting room where someone had thrown them for convenience, instead of putting them in their correct place.

Her house had finally become a home.

Their home.

There were little monuments to family everywhere.

A Nerf dart in the corner of the bottom step.

What looked like Barbie's hair, poking out of the bottom of the cupboard at the end of the hall.

She followed the detritus into the kitchen and looked around.

Two matchbox cars lined up to race each other at the door.

Andréa's favourite coffee mug on the drainer, half-full and forgotten. A testament to how much she did for their family and how much she had given up, right down to her morning coffee.

The fridge, once a gleaming monolith of spotless stainless steel that she barely glanced at except to retrieve the cream for her coffee, was now the centre of their house. Instead of sparkling, it was covered in fingerprints and haphazard artwork from the school, held up with gaudy magnets that she definitely had never authorised. She smiled absently as she admired the work of the little ones that had brightened her life. She'd seen most of them before. They almost lined up in the evening, when she came home, with papers in hand and they would sit and take her through their thoughts and feelings on that particular project.

Well, Olivia did.

Nick often held out his picture, just out of her reach and as she leaned forward to get it, he wrapped his arms around her neck and giggled quietly in her ear when she pretended she was surprised.

She would talk to him quietly about his composition and his colour and she had often noticed evidence of his understanding in the subsequent pictures. They had found that people had a tendency to think him less intelligent because he was so quiet but she and Andréa had quickly realised that his intelligence far surpassed anyone else's understanding. He would be a great thinker, in time.

She wondered if he had understood just how much it had simultaneously filled her with happiness and crushed her when he'd murmured that word in her ear the other night. It had been the catalyst to the feelings that were bubbling away in her gut. She wasn't sure whether he was calling her Mommy or muttering about his real mother. It was a feeling of hope and guilt and wishfulness all at the same time. And it burned her. She wanted so desperately to be their Mommy, to hear that called when she got home but at the same time, as she always had, she got it. She understood that they'd had a Mommy once. And she had left them.

Just like Miranda had done now.

And that, coupled with the realisation that she could see a life without Runway, for the first time in all of her life?

No wonder she felt like she had been imprisoned in her own mind.

A picture she'd never seen before caught her eye, tucked under the corner of another. This one did not come from the school and she had never seen it before.

This was clearly Samuel's work.

She broke finally, letting a sob go as she looked at it.

All right of them, Patricia included, were in his family portrait. And there, above what could only be her on account of the silver mop on top of that stick-figure's head, was not her name. Not even the name that he called her.

Mommy.

She dropped to the floor, clutching his masterpiece and curling up around herself sobbing. Every feeling of inadequacy, every feeling of detachment that she'd felt recently disappeared like smoke. Her family was all she had, she realised that now. Her babies, all 5 of them and her love. The love of her life.

Her absolute soulmate.

She wiped away her tears and stood. She ran - ran - up the stairs and threw whatever she could reach into a bag. She picked up her phone and dialled Roy, who answered immediately to say he was outside waiting for her. She could have cried again. At the last moment after searching for her phone charger for what seemed like hours, she gave up and went to Cassidy's closet. She pulled down a box that they stored on the top shelf. It was full of bedsheets that they never used, but she wasn't after those. She dug through it, making a noise of triumph as she found what she was looking for.

She stared at it, trying to will her hands to stop shaking.

She'd ordered it only about three weeks into their relationship. She'd known then that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with the woman that held her heart and she felt like an idiot for nearly destroying that.

Because of her own fears. Her own terror.

She tucked it in the bottom of her purse and went down the stairs. Roy was waiting with a grin on his face.

"Em's booked your ticket. It'll be at the desk when you get there. Flight's in an hour, it was the earliest she could get."

"Thank you," she whispered, squeezing his hand. "Take a holiday, anywhere. I don't care."

"Don't worry, we'll get you there."

"I should have -"

"Look," Roy said, interrupting her and getting in the car. He pulled into traffic and met her eyes in the mirror, briefly, before continuing. "Take it from someone who nearly lost everything because he couldn't get his shit together. It will get better. The fear will always be there, Miranda, but you'll get better at dealing with it. This is your life and I don't think you want to be anywhere else but here."

She closed her eyes and squeezed them shut to prevent more tears from leaking.

"Thank you."

"We all have to hit the bottom to figure out where it is, Miranda. You know now. I know that you won't hit it again."

They drove the rest of the way in silence. She opened the door herself and when he met her with her bag she stopped him and kissed his cheek, wiping off the lipstick she left.

"You are one of the best men I have ever had the privilege of knowing. And I am not joking. Take your family away, give your wife's supervisor my number of you have to. I'm extending my holiday by at least a week, if not more. Fuck Alexi. Go anywhere for as long as you want. If Emily is making herself available as my personal travel assistant, have her put it on my personal account."

"Mir -"

"Trust me. Take some time. I won't need you or want to see you until I'm back. And I don't plan on being back for a little while. I have a lot of making up to do."

"You're a good woman, Miranda Priestly," he grinned, tipping his hat to her. "Don't let anyone, including yourself, make you think otherwise."

She pursed her lips, hiding her grin as she stalked off to the gate, giving off an air that reminded her of something that made her smile properly.

She could almost hear Andréa humming that silly Darth Vader song as she walked.