Beyond the Call (24 of who the heck knows?)
Title: Beyond the Call
Co-Authors: DuWinter & Ragelikeafire
Fandom: DWP
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Rating: PG-13
Summery: Miranda is faced with the possibility of losing Andy soon after finding her.
Disclaimer: The Devil Wears Prada and it's characters do not belong to me. No profit being made here. I'm just playing with them for a short while and I promise to put them away neatly when I'm through.
Comment: Thank you for all the wonderful comments! Comments feed the muse and the Muse is feasting! But contrary little bastard that he is, like a puppy, he'll look me in the eye claiming to never have been fed. Comments and constructive criticism eagerly encouraged.
Notes: Deus ex machina in full effect. This is a work of fiction. I'm sure that some of my audience will find parts of it in error or stretching their credibility.
A/N 1: I know that members of the Ohio National Guard have served bravely in the conflicts overseas. I honor that service. The 192nd Supply Regiment and the 161st Military Police Company, however, are fictitious units and do not exist.
A/N 2: This work has been written very differently from most of my writing endeavors. While the idea for this story has been in my mind for some time it only recently demanded to be written. I did not pursue the level of research I normally engage in. Some of my materials are pure fiction culled from watching TV and movies. I ask the reader to suspend disbelief and go with it.
A/N 3: I apologize in advance to anyone my use of the word 'bitch' offends. It seemed like the best choice in the context which it is used.
A/N 4: I have introduced a very unpleasant character into this story. He is racist, misogynistic, corrupt, and one of those individuals the world would truly be a better place without. His views in no way express the views of the author of this piece.
Very Special Thanks: to Ragelikeafire. I've stopped kidding myself and have given her a well deserved co-author credit. The ideas are mine, the beauty and flow of language hers.
Very Special Thanks: to Needled_ink1975, for being my sounding board and for constructively giving me a kick in the ass when I need one.
Very Special Thanks:to Shesgottaread, who's constructive criticism and questions have caused me to re-examine parts of this work and will, in the end, make it better than originally conceived.
Emily smiled through gritted teeth and feigned interest in a tour of the Capital Building. She knew that there was little time left in her favor to break through cracks in the Senator’s reserve and get the information she needed to uncover his evil plan.
She had been up all night thinking about how to accomplish the task. The problem was, she had no idea where to begin. Short of bedding the fat repulsive bastard, she was drawing a blank. Getting her into his bed was exactly what the Senator had on his mind, he'd made that clear. From the moment she had approached him in the bar the previous night he had been letching and drooling all over her. Whilst her master plan hadn’t exactly formed itself yet, she was certainly not that desperate....yet.
Between third and forth period Cassidy was called to school councilor's office. She sat before Miss Peterson, the dedicated councilor for the 7th graders. Cassidy had liked the woman from the moment she had met her. Having a mother who virtually kept the American press and their gossip columns in syndication meant that there was often a need for the teenager daughter of such a woman to vent their thoughts and troubles. Miss Peterson had always been there to listen and never judge.
The councilor looked at Cassidy sympathetically, “Cassidy, How are you?” she inquired gently. “You must be upset after what happened this morning. It would be perfectly normal if you were. I know you are no stranger to vicious accusations but never the less slander can be very hurtful.”
Cassidy looked up at the woman across the desk. “I don't think it's slanderous Miss Peterson,” she answered softly, cocking her head and trying to assess her councilor's reaction to what she was saying. “It has to be untrue to be slanderous doesn't it?”
Miss Peterson put her coffee cup down carefully on her desk. “Cassidy, are you saying that you believe that you are a Lesbian?”
Cassidy shrugged. “I know I'm more attracted to girls than boys,” she answered softly.
“And do you know why someone here at Dalton would choose to attack you in such a public way?” Miss Peterson asked.
Cassidy looked up gesturing to her recent change of appearance. “Because I stepped out, decided not to be just like everybody else in the clique. Maybe it’s because I changed my social group or maybe it’s just because I found Roxie.”
“Roxie?” Miss Peterson asked.
“Cassidy nodded and a happy smile lit up her face. “Yeah, Roxanna Gilchrist. She's my girlfriend.” She felt her cheeks flush as she heard the words come out of her mouth, waiting for Miss Peterson response.
*****
Andy was used to being bounced around in the hull of a cargo plane not riding first class on an escorted Airforce jet. She imagined that the attention she was receiving from the cabin crew was somewhat akin to the life of royalty. The fact that she was being saluted by almost every uniformed and non-uniformed person who passed her seat, made her feel a little bit uncomfortable. Even getting on the flight has been a new experience, as she and her escort detail had bypassed the security gates without even slowing down. That was a first for her, as far as she could remember it was.
“Guess they didn't tell you about some of the perks that come from that medal around your neck,” DeSaix chuckled. “Did you know that from now on you can fly free anywhere you want to go on Military Aircraft?
Andy's right hand caressed the medal on it's ribbon around her neck, from there it moved subconsciously to clutch the rings on their chain beneath her collar line. “No Ma'am, I didn't know that.” She answered distractedly.
*****
Emily desperately wanted to call DeSaix and warn her that somebody was looking to do her harm, but she knew without the hard evidence from the Senator she would just be wasting her time. She missed the end of the award ceremony, by a matter of minutes and due to the secret service detail it had taken far too long to find to find out that DeSaix had already left with Andy to the airport. She hailed a cab and told the driver to step on it. She rolled her eyes dramatically as he proceeded to flash a copy of the Federal Highway handbook and quote the speed limit. Emily pushed a fifty dollar bill-which she could ill afford-into the driver's hand and told him once again to step on it. After a terrifying ride, she felt the car screech to a stop outside of the terminal and she rushed into the lobby to search the departures board for the flights After more painful delaying moments she finally spotted the next flight to Rome and rushed to the security gate, hoping against hope that she could catch them. But to her dismay, as she arrived at the security gate she saw the flight information changed to closed and there was no way through without a ticket. As Emily turned to skulk away, she caught as disturbing image in her peripheral vision. The unmistakable form of her employer was walking in her direction from the arrival gate. Emily knew that her mind must be playing tricks with her-some cruel trick that only wanted to cause her more misery than she was already feeling-as this was categorically impossible. After all, it was Paris Fashion Week and there was no way that Miranda Priestly would be anywhere but Paris...
*****
Ian Sutherland had been summoned urgently from his forth period class to the Headmaster's office. Being called into the Disciplinarian's office was one thing, but when the Disciplinarian was the one who came to get you from class, to escort you to the Headmaster's office things were at the extreme.
The Headmaster Mr. Franks and the Disciplinarian Mr. Lambert stood conversing quietly on the other side of the room. Mr. Franks looked at Ian for a moment and then moved to his desk to sit down. “Mr. Sutherland,” he began, “what were you doing hanging around the seventh grade locker bay yesterday afternoon?”
Ian looked down, hiding his embarrassed face. “I was trying to find out which locker belonged to Caroline Priestly, Sir.” He answered.
“Don't you mean Cassidy Priestly?” Mr. Lambert demanded. “That's the one you defaced!”
Ian looked up, shocked. “Defaced? No Sir. I didn't do anything or deface anything,” he answered frantically. “I just wanted to know which locker was Cassidy's and I left. I know Caroline's would be right next to her sister's because of the way lockers are assigned alphabetically. I just wanted to know which was Caroline's, honestly, Sir!”
Mr. Franks glanced at the student's file on his desk. “I don’t understand it Mr. Sutherland. Your record is outstanding. There is reason for me not to believe you, but can you tell us why you wanted to know which locker belonged to Caroline Priestly?”
Ian’s blushed and reached into his backpack. He carefully withdrew an envelope and placed it on the Headmaster’s desk. “I was going to put it into Caroline's locker this afternoon after school so it would be there for her when she comes back on Monday morning,” he squirmed in his seat as he answered the question. .
“And just what is that?” Mr. Lambert demanded impatiently. “More insults to the poor girl? Or did you just get the wrong locker when you painted that nasty word on it?”
“Nasty word?” Ian asked, surprised. “Mr. Lambert, I don't have any idea what you're talking about.”
“Oh come on, Mr. Sutherland!” Mr. Lambert exclaimed. “It’s all over the school. Some spoiled little ignoramus painted something on Cassidy Priestly’s locker, the use of a word that can be very hurtful. We operate a zero tolerance policy here son and we're going to get to the bottom of this.”
Ian looked to the Headmaster. “Mr. Franks,” he said. “You have to believe me. I've been in an Advanced Placement test for History since seven-thirty this morning, we even ate lunch in there; just ask Ms. Ramsey and the other ten pupils in the class. I went straight from there to my forth period class, and I was in there for less than ten minutes before Mr. Lambert came and got me. I haven't talked to anyone outside of that.”
Mr. Franks nodded. “Will you tell us what's in the envelope Mr. Sutherland?” He asked.
Ian nodded. “Poetry,” he swallowed hard, and again squirmed in his seat. “I wrote a poem for Caroline and was going to put it in her locker through the vent...”
Mr. Franks picked up the sealed envelope from the desk and tore it open. Ian blushed as he watched the man’s eyes scan over the content
Mr. Lambert cocked his head as he looked from the boy in the chair and the Headmaster behind the desk. The Headmaster sighed deeply and slipped the letter back into the envelope before placing it back on the desk in front of Ian. “I take it that Mr. Sutherland isn't the one we're looking for?” Mr. Lambert asked.
“Well, it would appear not.” Mr Franks said to his colleague. “I believe it would be quite the contradiction in terms to cause such pain to the sister of someone he favors so.” Turning to the young man before him he smiled, “Your verse is most excellent, Mr. Sutherland. I do hope you will look into some creative writing or poetry courses before you leave us for High School next year.”
Ian looked up. “Mr. Franks, Mr. Lambert, I didn’t know this had happened. If someone is writing nasty things about Cassidy Priestly I want to help you find out who it is. Just tell me what I need to do....”
*****
The Paparazzi were lined up four deep around the entrance to Charles De Gaulle Airport. The word on the grape vine was that Bella Giovanni was on the move, she was hot property and a good snap of the firey catwalk queen was worth a fortune with the tabloid press. Her unruly behavior had caught the public’s attention over the past twenty-four hours and with her volatile history, those that had been in the business of photographing the stunning woman knew that more of the same was likely to follow.
The Italian beauty exited her limousine to an explosion of camera flashes, as her Assistant and the driver hurried around the vehicle to gather the mountain of luggage. Another woman exited the elongated car moments later and the paparazzi continued to snap up the images. The woman was young and attractive, yet dressed in a business suit rather than the couture that normally draped from Bella’s companions. She walked just a few steps behind Bella, conversing cryptically on her cell phone, as they strolled through the crowd and into the Airport. As the conversation ended she snapped the phone closed, and she smiled a vulpine smile as she reached Bella’s side.
Amelie Pelletier was a private detective by trade, having inherited the private detective agency through the recent death of her father. While she had assisted him on cases throughout her life, at the ripe young age of twenty-one she could not be sure that this was her true calling. She never felt she had any real passion for the work. Still, it had been her Father’s wishes and it tenuously kept the clothes on her back and food on the table. These last few months had been difficult, grieving for her Father and trying to establish herself as his replacement. The name of the agency carried a strong reputation but the clients had often been reluctant to commit after learning that Jean-Claude Pelletier was no longer at the helm. Lack of jobs meant no income. The hardship had swallowed most of her savings leaving a feeling of desperation as a near and constant companion. On that particular morning, she had received a call from a woman purporting herself to be the Assistant of potentially the most famous Model in the world. She was asked if she would be interested in working exclusively for the model for the next several weeks and traveling across Europe with the woman and her team. So desperate to clear the outstanding bills and eat a good meal, Amelie accepted the offer without even confirming the price or the task. However, she was fortunate that the relief turned to joy as the assistant Lucrezia gave her all the details. With the money from this job she would be able to pay her debts and still have enough money left over to pay next months as well.
After an interview in the Hotel de Crillon bar with the famous Italian beauty and her Assistant, Amelie was fully briefed on the situation. She would be required to travel with them immediately to Italy, so immediately that there would be no time to pack a bag. However, the Italian beauty assured the young French Woman that all her needs be taken care of and with the glint in Ms. Giovanni’s eyes she knew that she had meant it, in every sense of the word. Never having been to Italy, Amelie was looking forward to the trip. She knew through general knowledge that the famous Arabella Messalina Giovanni generated quite a fuss with the press where ever she went, being seen with her could only help her professional reputation. Needing a moment to herself, Amelie excused herself from the table and headed for the Lady's Room. She made some quick calls to make sure that everything would not collapse in her absence. Firstly she called a friend who lived in her apartment building to arrange the care and feeding of her two beloved Bichon Friese, Orpheus and Eurydice. The second to an old friend and assistant of her Father, she needed someone she could trust to be her handler while she was out of the country and Claudette Rousseau was just the woman. Returning to the table she smiled at the two ladies and promptly signed the deal.
Assuming it was a test of her skills, Amelie’s first task on the way to the airport, had been to ascertain, with a call to her contact in the Passport Control office, whether an American Citizen named Miranda Priestly had flown out of Charles De Gaulle Airport. She was able to confirm that she had indeed left on the nine-thirty-four A.M. flight that morning, bound for Gatwick Airport, London, where she had connected with a flight to Washington D.C. in the United States. Bella was suitably impressed and so Amelie found herself in the first class cabin of a commercial jet liner on her way to Italia.
*****
Mr Avery released a deep sigh and sat back from his desk. He was working from his office which was situated in Washington D.C.'s Arlington Virginia suburbs. He had spent a good portion of the day on the telephone re-engaging the contacts within his network that he had built up over the past twenty-five years. His day of stroking the strands on the web of power had not been wasted. In less than eight hours he had gathered some extremely valuable information on one Private Carol Rodriguez, he was confident that she was all he needed to destroy Lieutenant Meriwether DeSaix's career and sate the Senator’s twisted desires.
*****
Andy tried to relax in to her first class seat, her mind was bustling with thoughts of the day. She looked around for something to focus on and found herself considering her traveling companions. Corporal Scruggs reminded her of the boys from her unit, he was regimented and Army through and through, but what made him stand out to her was his quiet and protective nature. DeSaix was an enigma, but then again she was an officer, who was expected to distance herself from the non-commissioned masses. Andy had noticed however, that DeSaix was even more reserved than before, almost sullen since the end of the award ceremony. Even though she had made the effort to talk to Andy earlier in the flight, she suspected that was DeSaix working under orders and not because she was trying to be nice. Andy wondered at what had changed and then it dawned on her that Emily was no longer with them. Andy knew she was missing a few reference books from the library that was her brain, but her instinct was still bang on. The tension between the Officer and the uptight British woman could have been cut with a knife, she couldn’t be sure if they had done anything about it yet but Andy knew without doubt that they both wanted to.
*****
Miranda had just left baggage claim and she was headed for the private car to take her into Washington D.C when she was stopped in her tracks by the familiar face, frozen in horror, not fifty paces from where she stood. This was somewhat confusing for Miranda, Emily should be at her desk in Manhattan, what on earth was she doing Dulles International Airport? .
Emily’s feet felt like they had been encased in concrete, her mind screamed at her to turn and hide, to run or flee. But her heart told her to stand her ground. She was Emily-fucking-Charlton. Miranda had no idea what she had been though this week. She had defied the law, been thrown into a prison cell,and argued with a New York State Judge. In her heart she had already accepted her fate, she had done that the moment she told Nigel that her job was less important than being there for Andy. Even now as Miranda closed the gap between them both, she was sure that her purpose for being here remained true, only now it had been transcended by a more noble endeavor.
“Emily,” Miranda quietly demanded. “What are you doing here?” She glanced around confirming what she already knew. “....In Washington?”
The English Woman swallowed the hard lump in her throat and spoke quickly. “I'm here on personal business Miranda. Something came up and I had to come and deal with it.”
Miranda's eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. “Something came up?” Miranda hissed. “You've not been at Runway for days, have you?” She asked rhetorically in calm and deathly tone. “While I've been out of the country you thought that you could just desert your post and abrogate your responsibilities.” Emily felt the fight drain out of her as Miranda continued her tirade. “You left Serena to cover for you…badly... and all the while, who suffers? Yes, me. I was forced to send Nigel back to oversee the running of the Magazine. All because you have a personal issue.”
Even with all the growth she'd experienced in past week, it all amounted to nothing when she was faced with her Goddess . She tried to form a coherent response, to defend what she knew was right, but time wasn't on her side and Miranda waited for no one.
“Your incompetence has always been a drain on me and my creative process. You are a no-talent-wanna-be, with no future in fashion,” Miranda paused before landing the final deadly blow. “You're fired. That's all.”
Emily had always known it would come to this. That one day she would be thrown from the eleventh floor window without a parachute. She willed herself to pull her chin up and watch Miranda glide elegantly away. The tears brimmed in her eyes and heart felt ready to burst out of her chest but she simply reminded herself of the facts. She had known the risks and what the costs would be, it was time to adopt her stiff upper lip and push through. Her purpose for being airport had been to catch the Military party before they left for Italy, but she had been too late. They would be unreachable for hours and so now all she had left was her plan to determine what Senator Meriwether was up to and to find a way to derail it before DeSaix got hurt. She sighed once more and turned on her heel. It was time to go and check out of the hotel, she need to find a new-affordable-place to stay and then make herself presentable for the evening. She had made an early dinner reservation with Senator, there were things to do and master plans to carry out. She would save the crying until later.
*****
Caroline sat crossed legged on a chair outside of the dressing room of the Gothic Renaissance store and jotted another note into the spiral bound notebook carelessly perched on her leg. She pursed her lips in disapproval as another of the salesgirls, who had been pressed by the owner, modeled an outfit. Wade smiled as he stood in a shadowed recess and watched quietly, so very much like her Mother, he thought warmly. Even at the level of this specialized retail store, the fashion name of Priestly was recognized and regarded with a heady combination of awe and fear. That and the fact that Wade had mentioned his intention to spend an obscene amount of money meant that owner had bent over backwards to give him and his daughter the one on one attention they needed, even going as far as to place the closed sign on the front door. Caroline scribbled another note into her notebook and dismissed the flaky girl who was attempting to twirl around. Wade knew that like Miranda, Caroline was re-imagining the combinations she was being shown, but also like Miranda she had little patience for what she didn’t like. The passion was there and Wade wondered if his little girl would follow her Mother's footsteps into Runway.
*****
“Serena.” Miranda spoke into her cellphone as she stalked angrily toward where her car was waiting. “Your continued employment is hanging by a thread at this moment, young lady so I would suggest you listen very carefully. Notify Security that Emily is no longer allowed access to the Elias Clark building. Inform HR of her termination. Also instruct them to line up interviews for her replacement, immediately. Now put Nigel on the line...”
Miranda heard the fumbling as Serena covered the mouth piece. Several seconds passed and Miranda became more and more impatient with each second that ticked by.
“MIRANDA PRIESTLY, WHAT IN THE NAME OF COCO CHANEL HAVE YOU DONE?!” Nigel virtually screamed into her ear piece.
Miranda had not been expecting the response and it took her second to respond. “I used my prerogative as Editor in Chief and fired another worthless employee. Are you trying to be the next?” Miranda responded coldly.
“Don’t be petulant Miranda.” Nigel spoke accusingly without a thought for the consequences. She had really gone too far this time. He had known her for what could be considered a lifetime and never had he crossed the line. But this time he considered, if she could cross it with such ease, then he could follow. “If you saw Emily why didn't you speak to Andy, to let her explain? And when did they get back to New York?” A confused Nigel demanded.
“I have not visited Andrea, Nigel, Nor am I in New York City,” Miranda began, as her confusion started to set in. “I've just landed in Washington and am on my way to Walter Reed to see her.” Miranda said slowing her pace and feeling that something was not as it should be.
Nigel sighed and he tried hard to control his frustration for the situation. “Miranda, Six hasn't been at Walter Reed for nearly a week,” he said sharply. “She left without permission and came back here. She wanted some sense of normalcy, something to help her remember. Emily and Serena were trying to help her re-acclimatize so she would have a prayer of keeping her job when you came back. It wasn’t long before the Army came looking for her. Emily, the same Emily you just fired, by the way, spent two days in Jail because she refused to tell the military police where Andy was hiding,” he continued, raising his voice to just below a shout. “Andy only surrendered to get Emily and some kid,who helped her, get out of jail. Emily; knew you would react this way, but she did it anyway, because she cared more about what was happening to Six than about keeping her job. Oh and by the way, you just fired the one person that knows where Andy is!” He paused and took a breath, and decided that moment that he didn’t want to hear her response just yet. Like a naughty child, he wanted her to think about her actions. “Oh the hell with it!” He snarled and slammed down the phone.
Miranda had long since stopped her tracks, just a few feet from her car. The crowds continued to move around her at rapid pace, but her world was moving in slow motion. For the first time in her memory, Nigel-the one person she truly considered a long time friend and confidant-had hung up on her. A lot had happened in such a short time, she had a lot to process.
After putting down the phone Nigel, closed his eyes and tried to remember how to breathe. He stood from the seat, feeling like he was trapped in a dream. He drifted in shock out of Miranda's office and towards the door to the Corridor.
Serena watched him float by without acknowledging her presence. “Nigel,” she asked with concern in her tone, “what happened?”
The sweet accented voice snapped Nigel out of his dreamworld and he stopped in his tracks. He smiled nervously, and fought the urge to vomit. “I just raised my voice and then hung up on the Miranda, now I'm going to go drink my own body weight of those awful blue Martinis over at The Eagle. After that if Security will let me in and Miranda hasn’t had me assassinated, I’m going to come back here and clear out my office. If I survive today, I may just go over to Auto World and make my boyfriend Jerry come out to his editorial staff by sticking my tongue down his throat.” With that Nigel was out the door and gone.
Serena looked around the office in frozen shock. For the second time in less than a week it seemed that the helm of Runway had been thrust upon her. “Oh my god!” she exclaimed and she slammed her head down on to her desk. She heard the sound of a man clearing his throat and snapped her head up in the hope to see a saner Nigel in front of her. But it wasn’t Nigel, it was her White Knight, Richard. She stood and moved round her desk. “Am I glad to see you.” She said with a sigh of relief before slipping into his strong arms and relaxing into a hug.