In a Matter of Time.
PART TWELVE 
Author: Coleen / musicinferno
Rating: PG-13: language, I assume.
Pairing: Miranda/Andy (to an extent)
Summary: (Takes place in time of the movie, except with a younger Andy. Miranda's still the same age.) After a series of unfortunate events, Miranda and a younger Andy meet forcefully on the streets of New York. But when Miranda takes the girl under her wing and vows to care for her, to what extent and why? It's Miranda's secret, and only she should know. Is this the girl she's been waiting for? Is this the girl she needs?
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story that are related to The Devil Wears Prada. No, I don't make money off of it so no infringement is needed. I just want to make people happy, thank you very much.
Author's Note: Some constructive criticism is greatly appreciated and words of encouragement as well! (Still a noob with this whole thing) I didn't get a beta for this, but I've read it over quite a few times and am sure there aren't THAT many errors. Sorry if it ruins the mood. Thank you for being so kind with the comments (and you silent readers out there), I really did get motivated by them!


“Ms. Priestly?” Phil brought Miranda back to the present, waving his hands in vague reminder.

“Phillip.” Miranda brought him in for a kiss on the cheek. He was the man who pinned Richard down years ago. He was the one who went up to her and told her the restraining order was already in the works. He was the one who told Miranda she was going to be safe. And he was right.

“I heard Richard's back to his way of being..” Phil joked.

“Phillip, this is nothing to joke about. There is more you need to know about Richard.” The look in Miranda's eyes made all humor escape his body and he listened intently to what the three adults had to say.




“Miranda, John, Liberty,” Phil shook hands with each of them. “I really appreciate everything you've told me. I know it's not easy to say, but thank you.”

“We hope it wasn't too confusing.” Liberty apologetically said.

“We got the facts and they're going to be kept as facts; nothing twisted, nothing over or under exaggerated. Got me?” The nods the three gave him told Phil that he was indeed understood.

“Now, one question.” John butt in. “What's gonna happen to Richard?”

“The initial reason he was brought here was because of what he did in public; showing up with a gun wearing a bloody shirt uptown is not a way to go. Apparently the blood is of his own. He cut himself.. and uh.. the gun-” Phil trailed off, knowing he crossed the line. At least he didn't kill himself, or worse, someone else. “Well, your Andy needs to tell us the full story of abuse, and Ellen already notified us about it. She's not much of a talker, kind of a weakling.” Phil directed the sentence towards the woman still in a corner seat, staring out into blank space. “Records show she's not mentally stable. Liberty, you're the only family she has here, so we need your permission to submit her in for some help. She admitted that she needed it.”

“But what about Andy?” Liberty worried.

“What about her?” Phil asked.

“Richard certainly isn't ever going to see her again.. Ellen is unfit.. will she be in a foster home? She can't -”

“Unacceptable.” Miranda cut in. “She will not stay with another stranger.”

“What are you suggesting?” Phil asked.

“I am suggesting that someone she knows should take her in.” She couldn't believe these words were escaping her lips. But the past few days, she didn't know what was going into her mind to begin with.

“Miranda..” John tilted his head in question. “Are you saying one of us take her in?”

The woman opened and closed her mouth. Miranda didn't know what she was suggesting. It felt as if the words that came out of her mouth weren't of her own, as if she were different person. In truth, Miranda was a different person. Before Andrea came back, she was Miranda Priestly; editor-in-chief of Runway magazine, ice bitch extraordinaire. Now? She couldn't call herself an ice bitch anymore. The girl thawed her, made her more human than she thought she ever could be. Miranda's heart closed 15 years ago, and it opened up nearly 3 days ago.
“If that is what you're suggesting, then which of you will consider taking her in? I know you three are people Andy trusts, but her legal guardians will have to confirm it. There's papers to sign, time to pass – and the press.” Phil covered everything. “Are you still willing?”
Three heads shook in agreement.



The morning was a daze. Andy didn’t focus much, knowing around the city somewhere the three people who weaved their way into her life were up to something. It wasn't until an impromptu assembly was announced throughout the school that she actually paid attention for a split second. Apparently, it was a presentation on teen pregnancy, and since this was an all girls school, it was “vital for you to learn statistics of pregnant teens and the consequences to come.” As their principal stated earlier in an announcement.

Her physics class sat at the very front. Andy made herself comfortable with her best effort, trying to find space, being seated in the center of the row. Students flowed in from the backdoor to the front of the gym. Andy hated this. She hated the sound the chairs made against the linoleum floor, mocking her pet peeve.

The assembly began. Sex. Pregnancy. Consequences. Coping. The end.

The speakers spoke as if they had control over the school, when really, half the girls were on their cell phones, listening to their iPods – doing something else besides listening. Finishing up, the crowd went full blast when it was announced that the assembly was officially over. Andy got up and rammed her way out the doors. She avoided eye contact with anyone she knew, clearly giving the 'so-not-in-the-mood' look. No one bothered her for the rest of the day.

The clock seemed to be frozen in time, her theories proved it. Shifting in her seat at the back of the class, Andy observed her surroundings: substitute teacher stuttering out the last few words of direction, 12 students doodling on the desk, 7 desks dripping of drool, 4 pencils that scribbled, erased, scribbled again, and, of course, one student itching with impatience.

2:00PM.

Thirty seven more minutes. Notre Dame was known for its impeccable timing; there were no tardy students, notices for events were planned ahead of time (except that pregnancy assembly, which no one knew about), and no other school could touch their athletic and academic records. The school schedule was not one of them.

The four bland walls became her companions as she waited. Usually her leg would shake up and down without her mind’s consent, and her teeth would grind together when she clenched her jaw. That ritual was interrupted when a voice on the speaker came on.

“Excuse me, Ms. Champion?” A voice echoed in the room.

The substitute teacher rose up from the desk. “No, she's not here. It's Ms. T.”

The voice cleared its throat. “Sorry, Ms. T. Is Andrea Sachs in class?”

Andy rose her hand up to confirm her attendance. “Yes, she is here.”

“Can we have her come down to the guidance department? She's to be dismissed here, so let her take all her belongings with her. Thank you.” The buzzing cut out, and the voice was gone.

The substitute did as told and let Andy go. It wasn't like in the movies when people would make a big deal of being called down; for Christ sakes, it was the 21st century and students got called down for other reasons. Andy thought back. What did she do that's worth being summoned to the guidance department? Slipping grades? Problems with next semesters schedule? Maybe she was going to be asked to speak for the school or something; it happened once.

It was upsetting to know that none of the above was the reason she was called down. It wasn't a big deal that Andy's personal life was to collide with her educational one. The burden was big enough on her – new elements of her personal life coming in, making it more "personal." And now, the people in her educational life had to be involved too? Andy wasn't concerned for the teachers or adults; she was concerned for the rumor. She was concerned that what was already being said about her will topple over with this news coming in. She didn't care what anyone said about her, to be honest. What she cared about was the wrong judgments people would entitle her with. Again, it wasn't a big deal that these two parts of her life collided – it was the biggest deal; change was not subtle in Andy's life, it never was.





Miranda flicked her wrist and checked her watch. Half past one. She, Liberty, and John had been at the police station for the whole morning. It didn't really dawn on her that she wasn't fully at Runway for the entire weekend, and she began to panic silently. She trusted the magazine wouldn't burn to shreds, but what she didn't trust was the people itself. A quick call to Nigel sealed the deal. He cut any explanation away from her lips and said he was glad to do what he could for the magazine. Clearly the man was dedicated... and understanding. She'd deal with the gossip buzzing around the floor later; a quick glare would do the trick.

“Miranda?” Phil brought a hand to her shoulder before she could even move. “I know you're about to leave, but can I talk to you for a minute? Just you?” He eyed the other two adults conversing over hot coffee across the waiting area. “I know you'd rather choose death than drink the coffee here.”

A smile of appreciation was given in response, and Miranda allowed him to lead her. “This is quite a journey, Phillip. Where exactly are we going, and what exactly are we going to talk about?”

“We're going to see Ellen.. and Richard.” He said.

They kept walking in slow steps as the conversation continued. “Oh.” Anger pulsed through Miranda's veins; she hoped to God the man had security there – she was ready to strangle the man with her bare hands.

“Ellen first. She wants to speak to you.” Phil announced, turning a corner. The door was open and the talked about woman sat there. She was somewhat composed. “Remember what I told you about her being mentally.. unstable.” He added in before letting her take lead.

The room wasn't an interrogation room. It wasn't an office either. It was simply just a room. Chairs were lined up against the dark walls, leaving the center vacant for shuffling around. A TV was hanging up the wall, and the window cast a glare over the dusty screen; the interior designers were clearly undereducated for this task. “Ellen.” Miranda announced her obvious arrival. She swept through the room and took a seat across from the woman. “You wanted to -”

“Yes.” She cut her off.

“About?”

“What do you think?” A blunt look on Ellen's face surprised Miranda, but in a blink, was let down. “Phil told me about everything. He said that either you, John or Liberty were willing to take Andy. Is that true?” She brought a hand up to her throbbing head when she saw a nod confirm. “I want you to take her.”

Miranda's jaw dropped.

“I'm serious, Miranda.” Ellen leaned in closer, resting her tired arms onto her thighs. “I want Andy to stay with you. I want her to live with you. I want her to be happy.”

The silver head shook in denial, then acceptance, then denial, then acceptance. Miranda shifted her gaze past the woman, staring into the wall as she processed the information.

“Look, I know I'm mentally unstable right now. But I'm sure as hell on this decision.” She spoke with truth, and confidence, never once hesitating. Ellen wasn't the kind of up-front person. But when it mattered, she would make the effort. Richard had power over her, but now that the bastard was sure to be sent away, a new light had shined on her – and it wasn't the light from the windows. “Do you remember that time... 12 years ago, during the housewarming? The time when you were telling me to be prepared for this? When Richard and John were out that door, arguing?”

Miranda tilted her head in thought and narrowed her gaze. “I do.”

“Do you remember telling me that you and Wynter were lovers?” Ellen asked.

The older woman swallowed hard. “I.. do.”

“Do you remember what I did? ” Ellen reminded Miranda. She held hands with her and squeezed hard. “Do you remember this?”

The head nodded. “Why?” Miranda then shook her head. “Why didn't you pull away? I told you your sister was my lover, and you seemed happy.”

“It's because I was.”

Piercing blue eyes widened in alert.

“David was a bastard... he didn't deserve her. Wynter never stopped talking about you when we had time to ourselves. I thought she was losing it.” Ellen admitted. “I thought she was making these things up, so that her mind could be taken away from David, and onto something – someone more wonderful. You know? Liberty and I couldn't believe it. We couldn't believe that the two of you were together.” She let go of Miranda's hands, wiping away the sudden tears that filled her eyes. “I was always in doubt. Three years went by after she passed, and when you told me... I was happy, because Wynter wasn't lying. The happiness she often talked about was real. And it was with you.”

“I don't understand..” Miranda tried to compose herself. “I don't understand how that's relevant to Andrea.”

Ellen held back a look of shock; for once, Miranda Priestly didn't understand something. “If her mother feels so happy with you, I can't imagine how happy Andy will be. I know how much Wynter loved you, Miranda, and I know how much you loved her. You also love Andy, and she knows that.”

Trying to speak up, Ellen silenced her with a finger. “If you're going to tell me how you can't handle it, don't you dare speak another word. You can do anything, Miranda.” Miranda didn't speak. “So it's settled.” The silver head nodded.

Miranda came out of the room blank. “Richard?” Phil understood her state and guided her into another room. With each step Miranda took closer, – knowing the man who had hurt Andrea was on the other side – she became furious. Not the furious where her assistants' would fail at getting her coffee order right. Not the furious where James Holt's new collection was tasteless. It wasn't even the furious when someone stupid enough would go into the elevator with her. It was the kind of furious in which Miranda would kill someone. Literally. She felt her hands clench with anger, veins run with adrenaline, and heart pump with hatred as she imagined the hurt her Andrea felt... from this man. A man disgusting, vile, and downright despicable. She knew for a fact that if Phil hadn't put a hand to her tense shoulder, she'd go in there and beat the man to death; Miranda Priestly was capable of anything. But she was relieved to feel Phil's hand calm her down.

Miranda took a deep breath in and remembered John's words: Andy needs you.

John was right; the girl did need her. She can't be with Andrea if she's locked up, doing time for strangling the man to death. Andrea needs to be healed, and so does she. So for the both of their sake, Miranda walked in, fighting all temptation to jump him; her words would burn him enough.


♥ To Be Continued: Tralala. Feedback is wonderful.