It wasn't the noise that woke her, but she jolted awake as if she had been screamed at. She looked around, bewildered, sure there was something missing. Then her memory came back. Bar. Coffee. Christian. Bed. Oh, God, she thought, her hand flying to her head. She gingerly glanced down at herself and let out a tiny squeak at the realisation that she was naked. With more than a little trepidation, as if in slow motion she turned her head towards the bedside clock. At the sight of the flashing numbers she squealed louder and began a hurricane journey around the apartment.

She was late. Miranda Priestly was never late, she arrived exactly when she meant to. This, however, was only possible when an assistant was around to arrange it. Miranda glanced at her clock again, removed her glasses and chewed the arm thoughtfully. Her face revealed nothing, but her eyes were ablaze.

She picked up the phone and dialled reception – again. Her voice deathly quiet, she explained her requirements and abruptly hung up without giving them a chance to question or protest even if they had dared to. Without a backward glance she swept out of the room, the only sign of her emotions coming as the door continued to rattle long after she had reached the elevator.

Andy struggled with pulling on a stocking single-handed whilst aimlessly throwing things around looking for her phone with her other hand. As she bent down to retrieve the other stocking, she caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a Runway cover on the floor. Hesitantly, she picked up the piece of card and stared numbly at it for a few minutes.

"Ah, you're awake." Christian emerged from the bathroom, towelling his hair with one hand, and holding Andy's phone out with the other. He flashed a bright smile, but she was still focused on the print.

"What's this?"

"That," he said, coming closer to her and handing over her phone "is what Runway will look like when Jacqueline Follet becomes editor-in-chief."

Andy frowned, her foggy brain struggling to process.

"But Miranda..."

"Things are moving on Andy. Miranda no longer fits. Jacqueline is perfect for this; it's a whole new era."

Andy slowly placed the print on the couch.

"And does Miranda know about this?"

Christian laughed, his nonchalance igniting something in Andy that made her want to rip out the perfect individual curls on his head.

"God no. She'll find out later, at the dinner."

Andy gasped. "In front of all those people, she'd effectively be fired?"

Christian looked at her puzzled.

"Don't tell me you actually care for the Ice Queen now? I thought you of all people would be glad to see the back of her!"

Andy grappled with her shoes and flew towards the door.

"I have to warn her..."

"You'll be too late!" Christian shouted.

Andy practically ran all the way back to her hotel, all the while imagining every bump was Christian's head beneath her cracking completely. She worried about Miranda.

She picked up her phone automatically, expecting a call from Stephen or her lawyer, and was momentarily stunned at the sound of Andrea's out of breath voice.

"Miranda it's me Andy. Andrea! I'm so sorry I'm late-"

Miranda regained her composure.

"You are not late, Andrea, you are absent. Therefore I have already missed breakfast, a photo shoot and have had to delay a most important meeting-"

Andy bit the bullet and interrupted, her panic at seeing Miranda humiliated outweighing her fear of reprisal.

"I know Miranda and I'm so sorry but you see-"

"Tales of your incompetence do not interest me Andrea as I have told you many times before. Is it so impossible for details to stick into that obviously inferior head of yours? You have let me down."

Andy's protests died down as she realised she was already speaking to a dead line.

As Andy came tumbled out of the elevator, she practically ran straight into her boss.

"Oh Miranda, thank God. Listen this dinner later,"

Miranda kept briskly walking down the corridor, barely acknowledging Andy.

"Do I smell freesias?"

"What...no, I specifically told them no freesias but-"

"Good, because if I see a single freesia Andrea..."

The sentence dangled and before Andy had a chance to react a door was shut in her face.

Andy paced outside for ages, raising her hand many times, but failing to knock. Eventually, she held her breath and hammered until the door flew open.

"Mr Ravitz, I'm so sorry to interrupt but I really-"

Miranda appeared in the doorway, her face a thunderstorm, her eyes flashing fire and ice.

"Andrea, what is the meaning of this?"

"Miranda please," Andy hurriedly whispered, "you really need to listen to what I have to tell you..."

Miranda gave her a look of such – Andy couldn't quite name it, but the look was such that she lost her trail and recoiled.

"I do not need to listen to anything you have to say, Emily. That will be all." Miranda made sure she pronounced each word with such whispered venom that the quiet clicking of the door shutting was so loud in comparison that it made Andy jump. The finality resounded in Andy's ears. She had called her Emily. And that look. Resentment? Hurt?

Andy shrunk into herself as she walked down the corridor, flinging her uncomfortable shoes off her feet. She had failed.

Andy still turned up at the dinner. She wasn't sure why; maybe just to watch something else she'd messed up, something else in her life she'd lost. She sat next to Nigel, couldn't help smiling at his excitedness, even as her heart skipped beats. She was so proud of her friend, glad that he was getting this opportunity to go into partnership with James Holt, but at the same time Miranda was losing her life. Andy didn't stop to evaluate why she was so upset by the move. She put it down to loyalty, to not wanting to see others humiliated, even though her working life would undoubtedly be easier without Miranda. She couldn't imagine it. Not now. She heard Miranda start speaking; that quiet lulling voice that held everyone's rapt attention. She could feel Nigel practically buzzing next to her.

"...my good friend and esteemed colleague-" Nigel was practically on his feet already, "-Jacqueline Follet."

Andy's heart practically jumped out of her body. She didn't have to look around to see the confusion around her. James Holt, Jacqueline Follet, Christian. And Nigel. Nigel, Miranda's loyal friend, colleague, deflating. What happened next was a blur. Andy could only see Nigel clapping politely even as he watched Miranda give away his dream, his ambition. Jacqueline Follet, new partner of James Holt; Nigel's job. She caught Nigel's eye, grasped his hand. He smiled wryly.

"She'll pay me back someday."

Andy looked at Miranda air kissing and hugging a woman she had just promoted; a woman she couldn't stand.

"Do you really believe that?"

Nigel sighed, sat down, his smile plastered firmly on his face.

"I have to."

The whole day replayed itself in Andy's mind as she and Miranda made their way across the city in the car. Slowly, all of the pieces fell into place.

"You knew, didn't you?" Andy kept her voice as steady as she could and kept her eyes focused on the window. Miranda kept up her tapping on the phone.

"Knew what Andrea?"

"The dinner. Jacqueline's promotion. That was the plan all along, wasn't it?"

Miranda sighed almost imperceptibly and tucked her phone away.

"There is one thing, one crucial fact that you must understand Andrea and that is that no one can do this job like me, no one. Runway is my life; I dedicate weekends, holidays, and sick days to it. I sacrifice my marriages, my social life even my children for this job. Jacqueline Follet could never do that, no one could, and therefore Runway would suffer. That cannot happen. Runway is not just a magazine, Andrea; people build their lives around it. I was aware of the plan to put Jacqueline in my place for a while. That meeting with Irv today was where I showed him a list of many people – models, designers, people who I have had personal guarantees of loyalty from – that would follow me should I ever leave Runway. Although I must say, Andrea, I was impressed by how intently you tried to warn me. I see a lot of myself in you, Andrea."

Andy shook her head as she studied Miranda's profile.

"I could never do what you did to Nigel." She saw Miranda smile.

"You already have, Andrea. Was it not you that took Emily's place on this trip?"

Andy gasped. "That was different!" her voice was quivering. "You said-"

"I gave you a choice, Andrea, between staying in New York and losing your job through loyalty to Emily, or taking Emily's place on this trip. You made that choice, Andrea, like it or not."

Andy followed Miranda into the building, through the hordes of paparazzi. Miranda turned and said something, but Andy's mind wasn't processing. She kept her smile in place, nodded at all the right people and in all the right places, and only elicited a few glares from Miranda, but Andy didn't take anything in. She may very well have met the French President and not known. As soon as she knew Miranda was settled, Andy made her way to the bar, earning herself sympathetic looks and free shots when it became apparent that she was Miranda's new 'Emily'. By the time Miranda was ready to leave Andy had to put considerable effort into not slurring her sentences. She could barely bring herself to look at Miranda on the journey back, concentrating instead on weaving her fingers. In. Out. In. Out. Twist.

"Andrea, for goodness sake, can't you find something more constructive and less annoying to occupy yourself with?"

Andy took a deep breath.

"Stop the car." Barely audible. The driver glanced into his mirror. Miranda glared at Andy.

"I said STOP THE CAR!" Andy screamed, her hand pulling the handle before the car had fully stopped. She dragged her eyes up to meet Miranda's, her mind suddenly crystal clear.

"I am nothing like you." She spat before she stumbled from the car and began to run.