I'll Follow 10/10

[duwinter]

Title: I'll Follow (Part 10/10

Author: DuWinter

Fandom: DWP

Pairing: Miranda/Andy

Rating: M (Content & Language)

Summery: Andy has left Miranda behind.

Disclaimer: The Devil Wears Prada, it's characters and the song lyrics I use do not belong to me. I'm just playing with them for a short while.

Comment: First attempt at DWP fic. Angst Warning. AU. Not beta'd, so any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Comments and constructive criticism eagerly encouraged.

Special Thanks for all the wonderful encouragement. This is the last part of this story. I hope you all like it.

Miranda wakes slowly. She is warm and comfortable. The silk sheets under which she lies caress her like warm oil flowing over her skin.

There is something very wrong. The only place she has known such luxury is the Bitch Goddess' bedroom. She keeps her eyes tightly closed and tries to control her rising panic. It can't have all have been a dream, she thinks frantically. I can't go back there!...I can't! She cautiously opens her eyes only a little bit and looks out through her lashes. The room is tasteful in the extreme. Comforted that she is not in the Bitch Goddess' bedroom she opens her eyes farther. The bed is huge, comfortable and very rumpled. The room itself is larger than the whole of the apartment she used to rent. The décor of the room is done in the same earth tones she she favors when decorating. The furniture is dark, heavy wood, luxurious and expensive. She hears water running from a faucet in the attached master bath. She rises carefully noticing the exquisite silk nightgown she wears. It is the latest out of Aubade's line. Something she could only dream of ever affording. She moves quietly toward the door to the bath and at that moment Andrea appeared in the doorway. The girl somehow managed to smile a smile that melted Miranda where she stood while still brushing her teeth. She turned and disappears back into the bathroom. Miranda is so stunned that she can't move for precious seconds.

A moment later the sound of the faucet in the bathroom ceases and Andrea comes back into the bedroom. The girl is dressed casually, in jeans and an attractive print sweater. On her feet is the most amazing pair of Chanel boots. 'What are you doing out of bed darling?” She asks softly, approaching Miranda. “You don't need to be up for hours yet, and after the night we had...,” she smiles wickedly. “Although when Caro and Cass came home from the movies and caught us making out on the couch in the front room I wasn't sure if your head was going to explode or their's were.” She laughs softly. It is the most beautiful sound Miranda has ever heard. Andy leans in and brushes her lips across Mirnada's. “I have to go in for a bit. I have a wrap up meeting with the editorial staff on that series on domestic abuse. Apparently I'm being considered for some award for it,” she babbles happily. “That day that guy with a gun showed up sure took that series to the next level. You know that the cops found a letter at that son-of-a-bitch's house? He intended to kill his wife! Right there at the shelter!” She glances at Miranda, her gaze becoming speculative. “I'd still like to know how you knew to have the cops there waiting for him. Only you could have done that Miranda. If anybody else called the cops and said 'Oh yeah, there's this guy that going to turn up at this woman's shelter and shoot his wife,' without any kind of evidence or way to explain how they knew, the cops would have been like 'Oh yeah, right and then they'd have laughed their asses off and gone back to the donut shop.”

Miranda couldn't take her eyes off the girl's smile. Andrea had just kissed her. Kissed her like it was the most natural thing in the world. Miranda's eyes widen fractionally. She suddenly realizes who it is she's supposed to be. She is that other Miranda. Miranda Priestly, editor-in-chief of Runway, Miranda, lover of Andrea. Miranda who had somehow managed to keep the shooting from happening here too. Not having the nerve to even begin trying to explain she shrugs one shoulder. “I just knew,” she answers.

Andrea nods. “That's what you always say,” she chuckles. “At least you knew that poor woman was in danger.

Miranda shakes her head. “It wasn't her I was concerned for,” she says very quietly, reaching out a hand for Andrea's hand.

Andrea reaches out and takes the offered hand in her own. She shakes her head and that chuckle becomes that most beautiful of laughs. “Come on Miranda, you know what a coward I am. If that guy had come in there with a gun I would have found the nearest piece of furniture to hide under and closed my eyes.”

Miranda firmly shakes her head. She swallows hard, on the verge of tears. “No, you wouldn't have,” she says, quiet steel in her voice.

Andy just shakes her head looking throughly amused. “I don't know where you get these crazy ideas about what I'm capable of.” She looks toward the bedroom door. “I've got to go,” she sighs. “I'm already going to be late. I'll be home by noon. Roy is picking up the girls and bringing them home right after school. We'll be leaving for the airport a little before five.”

Andrea then reaches out and and strokes her arm. “Let me tuck you back in lover,” she almost whispers. “We both know how rarely you get to sleep in and how much you enjoy lazing about on the rare occasions you do get the chance.” She assists Miranda back to the bed and drawing back the thick down coverlet, pats the mattress. “In you go,” she says softly, her eyes glowing with love and the most gentle and loving smile on her face.

Miranda, still unsure of her voice, complies silently. Andrea carefully tucks her into the comfortable bed. She chuckles softly. “You really make it tempting to blow off this meeting and crawl back in there with you,” she says walking around the end of the bed and picking something up from the nightstand on the far side. Miranda watches her slip a beautiful emerald cut diamond ring on her finger as the girl sighs and gazes at the ring adoringly. :Just think Miranda, this time the day after tomorrow we'll be married and in the air on the way to our honeymoon. A whole month, just you and me and the South of France. She leans in again and places a long slow kiss on Miranda's mouth. She then glances at her watch. “Cripes! I'm late. I gotta go.” She rushes out of the bedroom and Miranda can hear the girl hurrying down the stairs.

Miranda closes her eyes, the tears burning hot behind them. It's not fair, she thinks. In a day or so she won't be here. She'll lose all she remembers. If she writes it all down she'll know of that other life where she sacrificed everything, prostituted herself to the Bitch Goddess, suffered the death of all she ever wanted in a career, waited long years in a nothing job and finally killed a man in cold blood. But it will only be as if she'd read it in a novel. Would the Miranda that lived in this house believe any of it if she did write it down? Would she care? And now the Miranda that belongs here will marry Andrea and live happily ever after.

She throws back the comforter and rises from the bed. She makes her way to the bathroom and looks into the mirror over the magnificent marble sinks. At first she is shocked to see herself at fifty plus years old but she remembers the entries made in her journal about this reality's Miranda's arrival on the other side of the looking glass. Of her surprise at suddenly being twenty-five again. She closes her eyes and tries to think. What can she do. She only has a little while. Inspiration comes suddenly to her in a flash.

It takes her several minutes to fine this world's Miranda's cell phone. She intuits that the first number on the speed dial will be her assistant's number. She imagines herself as the Bitch Goddess and hits the autodial on the phone. As soon as it's answered she says “I want a case of Glen Garioch and a box of the best cigars. Deliver them to me at home. I'll expect you within the hour.'" She disconnects the call without waiting for a reply.

She spends the first part of the hour exploring this Miranda's closet and trying on the newest designer fashions, something that she's only been able to dream about doing over the last several years. After about half an hour she hears the front door opening. She moves from the bedroom and to the top landing of the stairs where she can see the foyer below. A nervous looking young woman dressed in the height of fashion struggles to bring in a heavy case of expensive scotch and a box of cigars. “Put them in the front room” Miranda commands from above. The girl starts at Miranda's voice and almost drops her burden. She manages to catch herself and disappears into the front room of the house. Miranda starts down the stairs. As Miranda enters the room the girl stands very still, her eyes fearful. Miranda, remembering her own fear in the face of the Bitch Goddess is uncomfortable with this reaction. She nods to the girl and in a flash of insight behind her eyes she knows just what to say. “That's all,” flows from her lips and she watches the girl flee.

The front door slams behind the retreating girl and Miranda moves to the goods she's had delivered. She thinks back and remembers the night she summoned Murry when she still had her own apartment, She finds a beautiful lead crystal highball glass on the sideboard and quickly opens one of the bottles of scotch and pours several fingers of the amber liquid into the glass. Then she takes a cigar from the box and unwraps the cellophane from around it. She goes in search of something to light it with. She hears something behind her and she turns. Behind her she sees something more surprising than Murry's appearance.

She turns to find a sight more surprising than Manny standing between her and the fireplace. The woman standing there glows with a soft golden light. Her gossamer robes move in gentle waves across her slight frame as if constantly being moved by a gentle wind. Her white feathered wings unfold and reach out showing their span almost large enough that their tips nearly brush the walls of the room. She smiles a sad but loving smile at Miranda. “The foul fiend Murry will not be answering thy call my child,” the vision states, her voice melodious. “I am thy guardian angel. Thee are no longer the pawn of the dark powers so I am come to thy call.”

Miranda clutches the half full highball glass to her chest and looks at this beautiful creature, seemingly made of light. “My guardian or the guardian of the Miranda that belongs here?” She asks.

“Both,” the angel answers cocking her head. “Why do you summon that foul creature, my child? Know you not that to ask their aid endangers your immortal soul?”

Miranda nods. “I wanted information.” she answers, her voice short. “Murry and I had an arrangement..”

The angel nods. “I am aware of what has transpired my child. What knowledge did ye seek from that foul fiend of the pit?”

“I want to know what happens to me!” Miranda almost shouts. “In a few hours, a day at most, I won't be here any more! This Miranda will marry Andrea! Likely live happily-freaking-ever-after! But what happens to me? This me?” She demands, slapping her hand against her own chest.

The angel looks at her with mournful eyes. “Oh my child,” she says the music of her voice communicating her sadness and pain. “I cannot tell thee that. You must return from whenst you came and face the consequences of the choices thee has made. You will remember none of this when you return to your reality. Remember nothing of Murry, or of the Miranda of this reality, or of me.”

Miranda steps back and "You won't take my love for Andrea will you? I can't forget that! I'll.....I'll die if I don't have that to hold on to! I won't have anything!” She shout at the winged figure before her.

“Your love for Andrea has brought you no happiness,” the Angel answers softly. “But it is not within my purview to remove such feelings from you. You will return to whenst you came and you will continue to carry her in your heart.”

Miranda takes a long pull from her drink. When she speaks again her voice is that of the Ice Maiden.“Well if you can't tell me anything about what's waiting for me, then, pray tell me, what use are you?...At least Murry was useful when he showed up. Go back to where ever you came from. That's all."

The angel nods sadly and she stretches her wings and looks towards the ceiling. The golden glow that suffuses her body begins to radiate and in a moment becomes blindingly bright and when the glow dissipates the space the angel had inhabited the moment before is empty.

Miranda snarls and turns back toward the sideboard clutching the glass so tightly for a moment she thinks the heavy lead crystal will shatter in her hand. Shaking she closes her eyes tightly and takes another deep sip of the content of the glass. It's not fair! She thinks. This Miranda will be with Andrea. Will be? Has been. They were to marry after three years of living together she remembers from the journal. What was she looking at now? Prison at the very least. All she had ever wanted, ever needed for herself was gone and now she's not even going to have the knowledge that the other Miranda was with Andrea. That her other self was happy. She feels a single tear spill from her eye and start a slow journey down her cheek. Her nose is suddenly assailed by the stench of brimstone. She turns around suddenly enough that some of the content of her glass slops out onto the floor. She opens her eyes wide at what she sees.

Where Murry was short and rotund, the figure standing there is tall and lean. Where Murry was badly dressed He wears a perfectly tailored Armani suit in the latest style. Where Murry was crude, uncouth and ugly, He simply oozes sophistication, manners and He is beautiful. So beautiful that in a way it hurts Miranda's eyes to look at him. He is most certainly a devil. Classically Mephistophelan, with horns, a goatee and a tail.

He looks at Miranda and smiles a wicked smile, mischief dances in his eyes. “I thought she'd never leave,” he sighs theatrically and shakes his head. “They've assigned Ariel to to your case. That's a shame. She really knows how to kill a good time.” He smiles that evil smile again. “Pour me one of those will you please Ms. Priestly? And I think I'll indulge in one of your choice cigars as well.”

Miranda is so stunned by his appearance that for a moment she does nothing, then with a shake of her head she turns and fixes a second highball. Shaking slightly she hands it to him. “Where's Murry?...And who are you?” she asks, not knowing what else to say.

He sips his drink and makes an appreciative sound then he answers the questions. “Murry won't be coming. He's been....demoted. Upper management gave him a simple task and he failed to deliver. Management wasn't happy about that. Oh my no. Not. Happy. At. All.

Miranda offers him the opened cigar. He takes it from her hand and holds it to his ear rolling it gently in his fingers listening to the crackle of the tobacco judging the quality. “The best scotch and a superior cigar” he says his eyes glittering, “Murry must have done something to impress you. He certainly failed to impress management.”

Miranda busies herself looking for matches in the drawers of the sideboard, yet she has no luck. The devil smiles and touches her shoulder. She turns and watches as the tip of his tail appears over his left shoulder. The tip of the tail presses against the tip of the cigar. The devil puffs a few times and the tip of the cigar glows a brilliant orange. He takes a deep lungful of smoke and then blows smoke rings towards the ceiling. “So, you have questions?” He asks his voice playful.

“What am I to call you.” Miranda asks, watching the creature.

“I suppose I could give you the whole 'I have had many names' rap but somehow I don't think that you'd bat an eyelash,” he answers and then takes another sip of his fine scotch. “You can call me Baal, I enjoyed the time I spent being called Baal.”

Miranda nods splashing more scotch into her glass. Baal reaches out and gently takes the glass from her hand. “You don't want to get ripped. Andy will be home at noon and you'll need your wits about you." He smiles a cat to canary grin. "Unless you're planning on falling into bed with this Andy rather than your Andy."

Miranda clenches her teeth and bites down. “What would it matter? I won't remember it in a few hours. I've been a pawn in this whole thing. Shown a life I can never touch. I've lost everything!” she grates, her eyes angry. “Now I have to go back and pay the consequences of my actions according to, what did you say her name was? Guardian angel my eye!" She shakes her head and closes her eyes, the fight seeming to drain out of her. “What do you want?” She asks, her voice cracking.

“To offer you a proposition. “ he answers.

She opens her eyes and looks at him disbelievingly. “So you want my soul now too? Don't you have it already? I killed a man in cold blood. Haven't I lost enough?!" She almost shouts.

Baal shakes his head. “No Ms Priestly, we aren't after your soul. You've won your spot in that other place.” There is contempt in his tone when he speaks of his competitors. “For both the Miranda of this reality and for yourself as well.”

Shocked, Miranda stands looking at the creature. She shakes her head trying to clear her thoughts. “Then why, pray tell, are you here?”

“As I said Ms Priestly, to offer you a proposition.” he answers. “You see, upper management had you slated to fast track for management. Now that Murry botched his assignment and you are going to that other place, I have been sent here to offer you a job.”

“A job?” Miranda asks incredulously.

Baal nods. “You'd spend your off hours in that other place and during your on hours you'd work for us in management.”

“And what would I get out of this arrangement?” Miranda asks softly.

Baal smiles his wicked smile once more. “I could tell you what will be waiting for you on the other side of the looking glass. It would make your remaining hours here less tense. You might even manage to enjoy yourself.”

Miranda thinks for a moment. She tries to put herself in the other Miranda's shoes. Tries for a moment to be the editor-in-chief. "I want to know what happens here and what's going to happen to me.” she answers softly. “Those are my terms. Take them or leave them.”

Baal nods and chuckles. “Most acceptable,” he replies. "The Miranda and Andy of this reality will marry and have thirty-five years of happiness here. When that Miranda goes on to her reward, her children will stand by Andy and help her through. She will follow her Miranda some twenty years later. When she passes she will be in the company of Miranda's children and their children who consider her their grandmother. " He takes a step closer to where Miranda stands by the sideboard. His is but an arms length away now. "I can not do more as far as telling you of this world's Miranda and Andy, because you won't live it. If you'll allow me to touch you I can make you see and feel what your lot will be.”

Miranda is scared. More scared than she's ever been, even at that terrible moment when she pulled the trigger and killed that man who was going to hurt Andrea. She marshals herself and nods. “Yes, I'd like to see and feel what I'm going back to.”

Baal reaches out one beautiful taloned hand and touches Miranda's face. His fingers feel fevered against her cheek. Black lighting flashes behind her eyes and suddenly she is sitting in a prison cell. On her lap is a dress she's sewing on. She is aware that the guard that ordered it for her daughter's prom will be by later to check on it's progress. Miranda is grateful that the warden has allowed her to engage in this pseudo business. She has been here three weeks now and she's painfully aware that there aren't enough jobs to go around for all the inmates incarcerated in this prison. If she didn't have something to occupy her mind she would worry for her sanity. She has begun going to the designs she's scribbled over the last several years and making dresses for guards, their families, inmates that are about to be released and as gifts for inmate's family members. She enjoys the creative process and it allows her mind to escape this dreary place. She thinks back over the recent past. There hadn't been a trial. The letter that the man she had killed had left saying clearly that he had intended to kill his wife added to Miranda's contention that she was protecting someone in the shelter. She'd confessed her guilt and accepted the D.A.'s offer of manslaughter two, eight years in prison. She can be out in two if she behaves herself.

One of the guards walks up to the door of her cell. “Priestly! You've gt a visitor!” she calls through the bars and then the cell door slides open. This surprises Miranda as she can't imagine who would come and visit her. She rises and follows the guard to the visitor's room.

Miranda is surprised to find Andrea sitting and waiting for her. She takes her place across the visitor's table and looks at the woman she thought she'd never see again. Andrea. Uncertain and having begun to pick up the caution of an inmate she waits to her what the woman has to say.

Andy watches Miranda come. She is struck by the regal beauty of the woman. Even though she's lost her freedom. Even though she's in prison and in that awful orange jumpsuit she is still the same elegant beauty that Andy met that first morning in the Starbucks when she was going to Runway for an interview. Andy has not been still since leaving Runway. She is an up and comer at the Mirror. A journalist that other journalists are beginning to take seriously. She sold the article on domestic violence to her editor and when Miranda, an ex-coworker, killed a man stopping him from killing the woman that Andy was interviewing the story went to the top of the charts. She had been nominated for a Pulitzer for the story after the attention directed at it after the killing. It has taken her three long weeks to sell her editor on a follow up article on Miranda. Now she's here to interview the woman. She is surprised at the level of emotion she feels as the woman sits down across from her. After a long moment of silence she asks the question that has been pounding in her brain for the last several weeks. “Why Miranda?” she says softly, “Why?”

Miranda shakes her head at the question. It is a ridiculous one. To answer it would again dredge up all that has gone before, all the feeling, all the pain. Miranda is not going there again. If Andrea doesn't understand by now she never will. She answers the only way she thinks she can. “I did what was necessary Andrea. I had to defuse the situation.”

Andy nods. “Miranda, I want to write your story. I want to know what happened, and how it happened. Please Miranda, tell me.....I really need to know.

Miranda looks across the table at the woman she loves. The woman she's surrendered everything for. She shakes her head. No use in thinking about that now. “There is nothing to tell Andrea. I did what had to be done. No more, no less.”

Andy looks at the women. “Miranda, you killed a man. My research indicates that you did it to save a women you'd never met.” She sighs. “Please, tell me your story. Let me write it as it deserves to be written.”

Miranda shakes her head. “Andrea,” she offers, “even if I explained, you'd never believe me.” she whispers.

Andy shakes her head. “I need to know Miranda, she whispers. “Please, I need to know.”

Miranda shakes her head and rises. She turns her head away from Andy and calls out “guard” Walking toward the door to the cell block the devil takes her and she turns back. “I wasn't worried about his wife.” slips from her lips and she curses it as soon as it's passed. She disappears through the door as Andy watches her go.

Black lighting flashes and Miranda sees Andy standing on a door step of an upscale New York townhouse. The door opens and the Bitch Goddess stands there. She has changed. Pudgy, red rimmed eyes, a drinker's nose. She widens her eyes at her visitor. “Why it's little Andy,” she says, her breath stinking of alcohol.

Andy doesn't smile. She states her purpose coldly. “I want the photocopy of Miranda's diary you had me make.”

The Bitch Goddess laughs, “Why on earth do you think I'd keep that piece of trash?” she says turning her back and moving back into the townhouse but leaving the door open so that Andy can follow.

Andy does so and reaching out grabs the woman's arm spinning her around and making Emily face her. “Because you're a sadistic bitch and you'd keep trophies of the people you destroyed,” She says through clenched teeth.

“I destroyed?” Emily has the gall to look shocked. “I don't think you were paying attention, I gave Miranda everything and she turned on me.” She looks like she might cry. “I loved her and she betrayed me.”

Andy is seething. She has been researching Miranda for the article she wants to write. She has talked to everybody she can think of, dug into Miranda's life, interviewed Miranda's roommates, is even due to interview a women named Caroline who apparently taught Miranda to shoot. She is aware of all that has happened to the woman. She is beginning to understand all that Miranda has sacrificed and on some level she has begun to understand that she herself is somehow at the center of the events that have destroyed Miranda's carefully structured life. She looks at the sniffling woman before her with hard eyes. “I'm writing an article about Miranda, she says, her voice edged with barely contained anger. “So let me tell you what's going to happen here. You're going to give me the goddamn diary, because if you don't I'll make sure your name is mentioned in every other line of my article. I'll dredge everything that happened up again. Then I'll write a follow up article on sexual harassment and you'll be featured prominently in that one too. You think you're hated now? I'll make you the poster child for sexual harassment. I'll make it my personal crusade to see to it that you don't have any peace for the next five years.”

The Bitch Goddess looks at her. “I loved her,” she she whispers, “And she loved you. It destroyed her and it destroyed me too. I hate you for it.”

Andy feels as if she's been slapped. She swallows and continues to glare at the woman before her. I'v listened to every word of the recording's Miranda made. I know what was said and I know exactly how she felt about you. Now. Get. Me. The. Goddamn. Diary.” she spits each carefully enunciated word in the woman's face.

Emily falls silent and looks at Andy with scared eyes. She nods once and turns. “Wait here, I'll go get it,” she says softly, her tone defeated. She turns and disappears into the house. A few moments later she hands over a dogeared pile of photocopies held together by a rubber band.

Andy leaves the townhouse and doesn't wait to get back to her office. She stops at a local Starbucks, grabs a cup of coffee and starts going through the diary. It takes her a few minutes to find the pages she is looking for. She remembers reading them before. Remembers how they'd upset her. An entry about her death. Shot and killed at a women's shelter. As she reads the words she feels chills run down her spine. The date is right. The name of the attacker. The name of the woman she was interviewing, every detail except that Miranda had intervened and killed the man before he could carryout what he had planned. Miranda's last words at the prison come back to haunt her. “I wasn't worried about his wife.” she whispers. Miranda had know what was going to happen more that two years before the fact. Miranda had gone and gotten herself trained and bought a gun more than a year before the fact. Miranda had killed a man in cold blood. Andy shivered. Miranda had done all of it to save her life. In light of this revelation Andy is forced to reevaluate some of the conversations of the recordings that caused the Bitch Goddess' fall. The rule two that was repeated over and over in the tapes. Never touch Andrea. In light of this new insight into Miranda, Andy realizes that it wasn't jealousy or fear of losing her place in the Bitch Goddess' bed. She was protecting Andy even then. She closes her eyes and sits very still for a long time. A single tear runs down her face.

Miranda is again summoned to the visitors room and again she is surprised to see Andrea sitting there. She has used the trip to deliver the finished prom dress to the guard that ordered it. It will save the guard the trip to her cell. Andy sees the transaction from where she sits. As Miranda sits down across from Andrea, Andy leans forward and speaks quietly. “You knew what was going to happen more that two years before it happened.” she whispers. “You knew when and where. You knew his name and his wife's name. How is that possible Miranda.

Miranda shakes her head. “I don't know. I just wrote it all down one day. Most of it the day before I met you for the first time. I wrote it down and I knew in my heart that it was the truth.” she answers.

Andy looks down almost shyly. “Miranda, I......I discovered something about myself last year. Something I didn't understand about myself when we knew each other before.” Her eyes come up and meet Miranda's eyes. “I had a brief affair with one of the departmental editors at the Mirror. A female editor. One I admire very much. She's married. When I discovered that I broke it off. I didn't realize when I knew you before that I'm bi. I wish I had. I wish I'd given you a chance.

Miranda can't believe her ears. Andrea wishes she'd given her a chance. She chooses her next words carefully. “You were with Nate then. You loved him.”

Andy nods. “Yeah, I thought I did. That all blew up soon after I went to work for the Mirror. He moved to Boston and was pissed that I wouldn't drop everything, give up my career and follow him.”

Miranda nods and listens. Andy is talking to her again. Her hear swells with the joy of it. Maybe, just maybe they can be friends again. That would make everything worth it if she could just share a small piece of Andrea's life.

Andy falls silent and Miranda has nothing to say. Andy realizes she doesn't want the visit to end so to make conversation she asks about the dress.

Miranda shrugs. “I've been doodling designs almost since I left Runway. There aren't enough jobs to go around here so the Warden is kind enough to allow me to allow me to make some things. I do dresses for some of the guards, suits for women that are about to be released, that sort of thing.

Andrea nods, enjoying the sound of Miranda's voice. They talk for the full hour that Miranda is allowed and Andy promises that she will return the following week on visiting day. On the way out of the prison Andy sees the guard that bought Miranda's dress placing the garment in her car. Andy speaks with the woman for a moment and the woman is happy to show her the garment. Andy's time at Runway was well spent. She'd developed her own style and a good eye. She knows immediately that the dress Miranda has practically given away to this woman is something special. Something new and cutting edge. A plan begins to form in Andy's mind. She convinces the woman to allow her to borrow the dress the following week after her daughter has attended her prom.

Miranda shivers as the scene changes again. Andrea is in the Runway offices. She is meeting with Nigel who is now editor-in-chief of the troubled magazine. Miranda recognizes that what she is witnessing is a new designer's run through. The type of meeting where a new designer shows what they've got to see if the magazine would be interested. She is shocked to see her dresses on the models. Pieces she's made for a number of the guards are represented. Nigel looks to Andrea. “These are exactly what the magazine needs Six. There's nothing else out there like them. When can I meet the designer?”

Andy smiles at Nigel. “You already know her Nige,” she says softly. “They're Miranda Priestly's.”

“Miranda? Isn't she in prison?” Nigel asks, surprised.

Andy nods. “But the warden is letting her run a small business. I had dinner with the warden last night. She doesn't have enough jobs to go around and it causes problems in the prison. Bored prisoners apparently get in trouble for something to do. I've convinced her to allow Miranda to actually open a design studio. It will employ five or six of the other prisoners. All I have to do is come up with the capital to get necessary equipment.

Nigel nods admiring the way one of her dresses hangs on one of the models. “Agree to give Runway first crack at anything she does and I'll back you with what ever you need.” he says distractedly.

Andy nods and smiles. “I was hoping you might feel that way.”

Suddenly Miranda is again in the visiting room with Andrea. She is aware that almost two years have passed and Andrea has visited every week. They have developed a close friendship. Miranda is showing Andy her newest designs. Work in the design studio has grown to where she now has twenty employees. The warden is being lauded for this highly visible and successful program. Andy has made sure of it's visibility. She has dedicated several articles to documenting the experiment. Those articles and others that Andy has done on the women's penal system have been picked up by wire services and won Andy several awards. Other prisons are sending representatives to observe the program. House Priestly and it's unique designs are the talk of the fashion world and the mysterious Miranda Priestly is someone that everyone who is anyone is dying to meet. Her couture dominated Paris fashion week this year. Nigel, being her soul conduit to the outside world has seen Runway's sales increase ten fold. The level of monthly circulation are back up to what they were before the Bitch Goddess ever took over. The board of Elias-Clark are pleased with this turn of events and allow him pretty much free reign. He, in turn makes sure that House Priestly has everything that it could ever want or need.

Miranda hears herself speak to Andrea, she can tell from her tone that she's nervous. “I have my first parole hearing early next week. The warden says that inmates often don't win parole during the first hearing, but she also says that she's going to speak for me.”

Andy nods, her eyes still on the drawing of one of Miranda's newest ideas. “Miranda,” she says, still not looking up and Miranda knows from her tone that Andrea is nervous too. “There is something I've been wanting to talk to you about.” she says softly.

Miranda nods but doesn't speak. She feels a sudden chill as fear crawls into her belly.

Andrea looks up, into Miranda's eyes. “I want you to move in with me when they let you out,” she says softly.

Miranda looks to the tabletop. Unable to hold Andy's eyes. It's what she's dreamed of. Part of it anyway. She shakes her head no. “That's very kind Andrea, but I wouldn't want to impose.” she says softly, trying to control her voice so her pain doesn't show.

Andy shakes her head and reaches out raising Miranda's face, making the woman meet her eyes. “Miranda...I want you to move in. I want......I want to take this thing between us to the next level. I want....” she hesitates, obviously scared. Then she reaches out for Miranda' hand. “I want us to be together. I want to try a relationship with you.” She looks down to the tabletop, afraid of rejection. “I've fallen in love with you Miranda.” she whispers.

Miranda's heart about stops both in the reality she's viewing and in the one she presently inhabits. Andrea just said that she loves her. That she wants to be with her. She hears herself answer. “Yes. Oh yes please. I'd very much like that.”

The scene shifts again. Miranda is in a strange but comfortable apartment. She's been paroled and has come home for the first time with Andrea. Andrea stands in the doorway to the bedroom. Her voice is husky when she speaks. “Come make love to me Miranda. Come to our bed.”

The scene changes again and Miranda is with Nigel as he shows her the footage that he has arranged for House Priestly. It is beautiful, rich woodwork, parquet flooring, floor to ceiling windows and the light. Oh all the beautiful light. She couldn't have dreamed of such a place when when House Priestly was a dark corner stolen from the prison laundry room.

Rapidly now the scenes change. She stands on a catwalk with models in her couture all around her. They are applauding her. The room is awash with applause. The audience is standing and enthusiastically clapping for her work.

Again. She sits in a Starbucks across from Andrea. She's looking at page four of the Mirror. The article says that Bitch Goddess wrapped her Ferrari around a bridge abutment, Andrea shakes her head. “The cop I talked too said there weren't any skid marks and she was doing about a hundred and ten when she hit the abutment. He didn't think it was an accident...”

And again. She is in a different place and time. She is standing in a garden and wearing a stunning white dress. She can see Andrea making her way down the isle towards her. It's their wedding day and all their friends have gathered.

The vision shifts and she sees herself in a hospital bed. Her hair is matted with sweat, she wears no make up and she is as tired as she can ever remember being. Andrea, smiling that beautiful smile, brings their babies to her, laying one of them on Miranda's breast. Miranda looks into the eyes of beautiful identical twin girls, just born. She silently blesses the doctor at the fertility clinic who recommended artificial insemination.

And again, She is at the Pulitzer awards dinner. They are honoring Andrea for a series of articles that exposed corruption at the highest levels of state government. Miranda is so proud of her wife she feels as if she will burst from it.

And again, A Christmas eve. She and Andrea laughing and struggling to understand the assembly instructions of a toy one of the girl's wanted from Santa. The playful mood becomes something more and they end up making love on the floor in the shadow of the Christmas tree.

And again. The twins are older, perhaps young teens. Even though she bore them she takes fierce pleasure in the fact that they look like Andrea did at that age. It is festive occasion. A family birthday party for Andrea.

And again, She is with Andrea who's hair has gone a lovely shade of gray. They are enjoying coffee in their garden at home and discussing where they will travel when Andrea retires next month.

And again. She is an old woman, standing over her beloved Andrea's grave. They had a lifetime together and Andrea went on quietly one evening in her sleep, lying as she always did in Miranda's arms. She morns her loss. Sorrow for the fact that her Andrea has gone on before her, but she takes comfort in the fact that she knows that she'll follow soon. And she has their daughter's and grandchildren to consider.

Miranda closes her eyes and shakes with the depth of emotion she feels. She opens her eyes and and looks to Baal who withdraws his hand from her face. “Thank you,” she whispers.

Baal nods. “You won't remember any of it when you return to that other place, but you'll live it. If my services have been satisfactory I'll be on my way,” he smiles that wicked smile. “See you around the office,” he says and in a flash of light and the stench of brimstone he's gone. So is the case of scotch and the box of cigars.

Miranda heads back upstairs. She'll shower, explore the closet some more and wait for Andrea to return. She has some time left here and she intends to make the most of it. After all it's not everyday that one is editor-in-chief of Runway.