Sins of the Mother (1/?)
Title: Sins of the Mother (1/?)
Pairing: Andy/ Miranda (Eventually...)
Rating: PG-13 (for now.)
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that has to do with TDWP. I don't own the title of this fic (because it came from a movie). I don't even own this fic because I don't have a copyright.
Summary: Thirty-five years ago, Miranda made the toughest decision of her life. She gave up her baby daughter, and now she's come back, looking for the person who gave her life, and then gave her up.
A/N: The idea for this fic came from a prompt from melanacious. To melanacious: thanks for the prompt. If you don't want me to write it, or if somebody else is already deep into their writing of a fic that is based off this prompt, it's okay, if you want me to delete it.
A/N 2: I know I have another fic in the works, but I couldn't just resist this one. I'll try to write another chapter on my other fic soon. I don't have a beta. All mistakes are mine.
A/N 3: Once again, starting with the preview. It gives me something to work with.
Andy sat on the bed that was once shared by her and Nate, typing away on her Macbook, trying to finish her article on the Transportation Workers Union strike by the deadline which was placed at ten-thirty tonight. She had been working at The Mirror for exactly three weeks now, and she wasn't any closer to the Peabody Award than she was when she was seven years old.
Her fingers were starting to ache and tense. Writer's hand. That's what that was.
Andy pushed her long, dark brown hair back behind her shoulder as she willed herself to keep going.
"Only two paragraphs left, Sachs. Keep on going," she silently talked to herself. And that's when she heard the knock on the door.
Andy looked at the tiny clock icon that resided on the right, top-hand corner of her screen. It was 10:22. It wasn't Nate, he was in Chicago. It wasn't Lily or Doug. They were both in Washington, DC for the week. Andy got up off of the bed, cautiously approaching the door, arming herself with a heavy frying pan on the way there, prepared to strike any vicious monster who dared to try and take advantage of her.
She was a young, single woman, living in an apartment by herself in the Lower East Side. It was past ten 'o clock at night. And she was scared.
She unlocked the multiple locks, each making a cling sound as the knocks got increasingly louder and faster. She swung open the heavy door, frying pan in her clammy hand, hovering in the air. She was taken back by what she saw.
There was a woman standing there. She could be no older than 35 or 36 years old. Andy lowered the frying pan, feeling guilty for thinking someone so innocent looking could scare her. She took in her clothes.
She was wearing dark blue jeans and dark black polo shirt. A black purse slung over her shoulder and shining black flats on her feet. No designer, but it was a nice outfit. Andy's eyes quicky traveled upwards. She gasped. The woman she was looking at could be a younger version of Miranda. For a moment Andy thought Miranda came to her apartment, casually dressed, prepared to exact her revenge on Andy, after giving her the recommendation at The Mirror, letting her have a nice job for three weeks before she killed her and stuffed her in the back of The Closet at Runway.
The woman before her was striking. Her light porcelain skin had no blemishes. She had high cheekbones, and long, golden blonde hair that reached her abdomen half way. Her eyes were covered with dark black sunglasses, full pink lips. She wore a small, discreet, silver necklace around her neck. It seemed to be something written in Hebrew.
Andy finally got the courage to speak, "Hello. You are?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. My name is Elli. Elli Anscher. I'm looking for my mother. Are you Andrea Sachs?" she asked. Andy could hear a slight Cockney accent to the woman's voice.
"Yes. I'm Andy, but I-I don't know who your mother is," did she? Did she know who this woman's mother was?
"I believe her name is Miranda Priestly. You worked for her, yes?" Andy's heart dropped, but there was still a pang of curiousity and disbelief in her mind.
This girl didn't look like Miranda's daughters, Caroline and Cassidy. This woman was an opposite of the two devilish twins. Plus, she didn't have the same last name. She knew the twins surname was Callaghan, from what she'd had to write on the various projects she completed for the twins during her tenure at Runway. Miranda's surname was Priestly. And none of Miranda's husband's last names were Anscher. This woman could be married, but then again, she wore no wedding ring. Andy was suspicious but there was something about the woman's voice, and how much she resembled her former boss that struck a cord in her heart.
"Yes. I worked for Miranda," she replied.
"Well, I need to get a hold of her. I want to tell her that I found her,"
Andy let out a sigh and placed the frying pan down on the drying rack next to her. She opened the door a little more.
"Would you like to come in?" Elli nodded and Andy moved to the side to allow her to walk into the apartment.
"God forbid if this woman is really a good actress and she's trying to rob me or something," Andy looked back at the frying pan.
The woman stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking around as Andy closed the door.
"I need your help. She needs to know that I'm here,"
Andy turned around and eyed the older woman, "Why?"
"Because I'm her daughter. The last time she saw me, I was only 28 hours old, and I want to meet her,"
Andy weighed the consequences of giving Miranda's number to a woman she had just met a few moments prior.
"I don't know what I can do for you," she said sadly.
"Can you talk to her for me?" the woman removed her glasses. She had deep sapphire eyes.. just like Miranda, unshed tears were in her eyes. "I have to talk to her. Please help me. Please," her voice was beginning to crack.
"Damn," Andy whispered under her breath. "I'll see what I can do,"
She looked at the clock that resided over the door. 10:34. She had missed her deadline.
TBC...
Sorry it's a short chapter. Comments appreciated!
Pairing: Andy/ Miranda (Eventually...)
Rating: PG-13 (for now.)
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that has to do with TDWP. I don't own the title of this fic (because it came from a movie). I don't even own this fic because I don't have a copyright.
Summary: Thirty-five years ago, Miranda made the toughest decision of her life. She gave up her baby daughter, and now she's come back, looking for the person who gave her life, and then gave her up.
A/N: The idea for this fic came from a prompt from melanacious. To melanacious: thanks for the prompt. If you don't want me to write it, or if somebody else is already deep into their writing of a fic that is based off this prompt, it's okay, if you want me to delete it.
A/N 2: I know I have another fic in the works, but I couldn't just resist this one. I'll try to write another chapter on my other fic soon. I don't have a beta. All mistakes are mine.
A/N 3: Once again, starting with the preview. It gives me something to work with.
Andy sat on the bed that was once shared by her and Nate, typing away on her Macbook, trying to finish her article on the Transportation Workers Union strike by the deadline which was placed at ten-thirty tonight. She had been working at The Mirror for exactly three weeks now, and she wasn't any closer to the Peabody Award than she was when she was seven years old.
Her fingers were starting to ache and tense. Writer's hand. That's what that was.
Andy pushed her long, dark brown hair back behind her shoulder as she willed herself to keep going.
"Only two paragraphs left, Sachs. Keep on going," she silently talked to herself. And that's when she heard the knock on the door.
Andy looked at the tiny clock icon that resided on the right, top-hand corner of her screen. It was 10:22. It wasn't Nate, he was in Chicago. It wasn't Lily or Doug. They were both in Washington, DC for the week. Andy got up off of the bed, cautiously approaching the door, arming herself with a heavy frying pan on the way there, prepared to strike any vicious monster who dared to try and take advantage of her.
She was a young, single woman, living in an apartment by herself in the Lower East Side. It was past ten 'o clock at night. And she was scared.
She unlocked the multiple locks, each making a cling sound as the knocks got increasingly louder and faster. She swung open the heavy door, frying pan in her clammy hand, hovering in the air. She was taken back by what she saw.
There was a woman standing there. She could be no older than 35 or 36 years old. Andy lowered the frying pan, feeling guilty for thinking someone so innocent looking could scare her. She took in her clothes.
She was wearing dark blue jeans and dark black polo shirt. A black purse slung over her shoulder and shining black flats on her feet. No designer, but it was a nice outfit. Andy's eyes quicky traveled upwards. She gasped. The woman she was looking at could be a younger version of Miranda. For a moment Andy thought Miranda came to her apartment, casually dressed, prepared to exact her revenge on Andy, after giving her the recommendation at The Mirror, letting her have a nice job for three weeks before she killed her and stuffed her in the back of The Closet at Runway.
The woman before her was striking. Her light porcelain skin had no blemishes. She had high cheekbones, and long, golden blonde hair that reached her abdomen half way. Her eyes were covered with dark black sunglasses, full pink lips. She wore a small, discreet, silver necklace around her neck. It seemed to be something written in Hebrew.
Andy finally got the courage to speak, "Hello. You are?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. My name is Elli. Elli Anscher. I'm looking for my mother. Are you Andrea Sachs?" she asked. Andy could hear a slight Cockney accent to the woman's voice.
"Yes. I'm Andy, but I-I don't know who your mother is," did she? Did she know who this woman's mother was?
"I believe her name is Miranda Priestly. You worked for her, yes?" Andy's heart dropped, but there was still a pang of curiousity and disbelief in her mind.
This girl didn't look like Miranda's daughters, Caroline and Cassidy. This woman was an opposite of the two devilish twins. Plus, she didn't have the same last name. She knew the twins surname was Callaghan, from what she'd had to write on the various projects she completed for the twins during her tenure at Runway. Miranda's surname was Priestly. And none of Miranda's husband's last names were Anscher. This woman could be married, but then again, she wore no wedding ring. Andy was suspicious but there was something about the woman's voice, and how much she resembled her former boss that struck a cord in her heart.
"Yes. I worked for Miranda," she replied.
"Well, I need to get a hold of her. I want to tell her that I found her,"
Andy let out a sigh and placed the frying pan down on the drying rack next to her. She opened the door a little more.
"Would you like to come in?" Elli nodded and Andy moved to the side to allow her to walk into the apartment.
"God forbid if this woman is really a good actress and she's trying to rob me or something," Andy looked back at the frying pan.
The woman stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking around as Andy closed the door.
"I need your help. She needs to know that I'm here,"
Andy turned around and eyed the older woman, "Why?"
"Because I'm her daughter. The last time she saw me, I was only 28 hours old, and I want to meet her,"
Andy weighed the consequences of giving Miranda's number to a woman she had just met a few moments prior.
"I don't know what I can do for you," she said sadly.
"Can you talk to her for me?" the woman removed her glasses. She had deep sapphire eyes.. just like Miranda, unshed tears were in her eyes. "I have to talk to her. Please help me. Please," her voice was beginning to crack.
"Damn," Andy whispered under her breath. "I'll see what I can do,"
She looked at the clock that resided over the door. 10:34. She had missed her deadline.
TBC...
Sorry it's a short chapter. Comments appreciated!