Work Text:
i.
The first time she ever felt the urge to pick up her phone and call Andrea Sachs, Emily was riddled with a state of utter disbelief.
As she stared at the pile of clothing Roy had dropped off at her apartment, Emily could only assume it was because she was thankful to her former colleague. Nothing else. It couldn’t be anything else, not when Andrea's temporary stint in Runway had cost Emily Paris and a broken leg all at one go. Walking in crutches had been an inconvenience she could not afford, as moving three times slower than her usual speed was often met with disapproval from Miranda -- if Andrea had not quit herself, Emily probably would have scared her into quitting by hitting her with her crutches.
She was only joking, of course.
That, and Emily suspected that she was ready to put what had happened behind her because she no longer had to starve herself for something that was no longer attainable. Allowing herself to eat carbs in controlled portions had, needless to say, lifted her spirits a little.
Is that what this is? Emily mused to herself, her lips pursed together the longer she stared at the clothes from Paris, because I am a carb eating human being again?
Emily wasn't entirely convinced with her own musing. Yet she struggled to think of another reason why she would even want to call her. The former Runway assistant had caused her so much headache, and she didn’t even think she had anything in common with Andrea…
But, Emily ran her hand along the fabric of one of the skirts on her bed and sighed, but there is no denying that Andrea was good at her job.
It would be rather unfair to punish Andrea for competence which covered Emily’s flaws at times. While there had been headaches, there had also been moments she had appreciated having Andrea around. Far more moments than the headache, if Emily was to be very honest with herself.
So she swiped her phone from her dressing table and sat down on a corner of her bed that wasn’t buried in clothes. Nibbling her lower lip, Emily decided to send Andrea a text instead. A text would be curt and simple, right? Leaving no room for negotiations and misspoken words. A call would be far riskier, because what if she said something wrong?
Hello Andrea. Emily began typing. Roy just dropped off the clothes. They are lovely, but you clearly forgot to mention they would take up my entire closet. Now I need to figure out where to store them all, which is truly such an inconvenience just so you know. Nevertheless, thank you very much and I wish you all the best in your future -
Her thumbs paused midair. She frowned. The words were so…gooey. So unlike her. Andrea's going to take one look at her text and deduce someone had abducted her, held her at gunpoint and made her send that text or something. Emily shook her head; the last thing she wanted was to have Andrea track her down because she was worried something had happened to her. She wouldn’t put it past her to do something like that, honestly.
Emily took a deep breath and deleted the entire paragraph of text.
She settled for something short and simple. Something unquestionable, no hints of an invitation to engage in further conversations. Emily wasn’t even sure if she was ready for something like that -- she didn’t know how, to be honest.
Clothes received. Thank you.
She shoved her phone into the deepest part of her handbag, and did not spend the rest of the day waiting for Andrea's reply.
ii.
It was a week after, when Miranda’s newly hired second assistant had fumbled her job so badly that Emily was sure she was going to get fired, that she had that peculiar urge to call Andrea again.
Mostly to complain about how her sudden leaving had left her in this mess of a second assistant slower than a tortoise. Emily didn’t know what was worse; that look of disappointment Miranda constantly gave her, as if blaming her for the incompetence of another assistant, or the sudden resentment she felt towards Miranda for never being able to live up to her ridiculous expectations.
“Nothing seems to be bloody going my way lately,” She snapped to no one in particular, but it was just her luck that Nigel walked past right at that moment.
“Someone’s in a mood today.”
Emily whirled around to face him. “This is my default mood these days.” She smoothed her expression, but her tone was as sharp as ever, “Ever since she left.”
Nigel cocked his head to the side slightly, lips pursed as he raised an eyebrow. The look he was giving her made Emily somewhat uncomfortable, and her gaze faltered. Instead, she busied her hands with the pile of papers on her desk.
“Because you now have an incompetent replacement,” Nigel stated slowly, “or…”
“Of course it’s because of that.” Emily replied irritably. “What else could it be?”
Nigel gave her a pointed look, one that she received with a huff of annoyance. She hated how he could read her so well, hated how transparent she could be sometimes.
“You know,” Nigel started again. “It’s absolutely permissible to miss a friend and admit that you do.”
Emily wanted to agree with him. She really did. But she bit her tongue back at the very last second. “I admit nothing of that sort. Andrea is not a friend.”
Nigel ignored her response, getting ready to leave. “My advice is to just call her. What’s the worst that could happen?”
I don’t know, she thought to herself, Andrea could pick up.
It was after Nigel left that she dared to glance down at her phone. She picked it up, pressed the button to her address book and paused. Emily didn’t know many people whose names start with an A, so Andrea’s name was right there.
But her hesitation fizzled out the second her landline rang at that very moment. It shook her out of her reverie, and given that what’s-her-name was probably still crying her heart out in the washroom, Emily immediately went back into her default work mode.
“Miranda Priestly’s office. No, she’s not available at the moment—”
Later. Emily put her phone away. I’ll call her later.
iii.
Miranda was away for the weekend, and that meant that Emily could finally catch a breather.
Things had been extremely difficult at work the past few weeks -- mainly because she was doing the job of two people instead of one. But Emily would like to think of herself as a fighter, not a quitter. It was a demanding job, one that she knew what she was getting herself into when she signed up for it in the first place. She also knew that someday all her sacrifices would pay off, and come on…didn’t she tell everyone that a million girls would kill for this job? Working for the Miranda Priestly?
Sure, it was demanding and came with lots of sacrifices, but surely she must be doing something right if Miranda was still keeping her around.
Right?
There shouldn’t even be room for doubts or thoughts of giving up. That just wasn’t her principle. She was working for someone she had revered for many years, someone she deeply admired for at least half her lifetime.
Emily knew all that, she didn’t regret her decisions -- but must it be so lonely at times?
This job had cost her most of her relationships. She hadn’t dated anyone in more than a year, and whatever friendship she had before joining Runway had practically disintegrated after she kept declining her friends’ invitations to “hang out”. She still talked to her parents, sure, but only sporadically when it was clear that they did not understand why their daughter had to miss birthdays and Thanksgiving dinners. It was just difficult to find someone who understood her situation, who wouldn’t fault her for missing out on things when she had her own dream to chase after.
So here she was, on a Saturday evening, sipping wine in her apartment alone.
That was when a single thought crossed her mind. So sudden and unexpected that she couldn’t prevent herself from thinking about the one person who could probably understand her. Someone who would not judge her. No, never.
Andrea.
How is she, anyway? She found herself wondering. It has been more than a month since she left, and from what Nigel last told her, Andrea was happily working for the New York Mirror. Writing articles related to “real journalism”, probably.
Emily put down her glass of wine and toyed with the idea of calling her.
What would she even say to her? And what would Andrea even think?
Emily shuddered, not knowing the answers to her own questions. She was usually quick at her feet with things like this, but for some reason tonight, her mind was completely blank. Only incoherent thoughts float about, thoughts that made Emily hesitate to pick up her phone.
And then she remembered what Nigel said, and her features softened. Truly, what was the worst that could happen? Andrea not picking up? Or Andrea picking up and saying who is this?
She’d rather the former than the latter. She could handle it if Andrea let her call go into voicemail. But if it was the latter…
Before she could allow her thoughts to fully consume her, Emily figured it was no use mulling the entire night when she could end this misery by just calling her. Before she could dismiss her newfound bravery, Emily lurched for her phone and pressed a few buttons.
“Don’t pick up.” She whispered into the receiver. “Don’t pick up-”
The call connected after exactly three rings, and Emily jumped in her seat. Her heart leapt into her throat when she heard —
“Emily?” Confusion, Emily swallowed the lump in her throat, and then…excitement? “Emily! Oh my god, how have you been?”
Like death, she almost wanted to reply, but stopped herself at the last second.
You see, the irony of this situation was that at that moment, after many weeks of not hearing her voice despite wanting to talk to her, Emily was rendered completely speechless. She’d thought about every other scenario but not about what she would say if Andrea had picked up. Her throat seemed to have clamped up in nerves, or whatever other reason she didn’t understand, but Emily could not for the love of god, find her voice to say something.
The initial tone of excitement coming from Andrea mellowed down almost at once at her silence. Great. Now she’s made things awkward between them. “Emily? Are you there?”
She sucked in her breath and calmed her pounding heart. Then finally, she uttered a word. Her name. “Andrea,”
And just like that, Andrea seemed to regain the unadulterated joy in her voice, for she immediately continued, “Heyy, Em! This is a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure of you calling on a Saturday evening?”
Emily did not know why she said what she said next. She could have steered this entire conversation into the right direction if she wanted -- honestly, I don’t know, I just needed someone to talk to. I hope this isn’t a bad time for you, I know it’s been ages since we last spoke but I just wanted to talk to someone who understands -- but instead, she blurted out,
“I apologise. I must have pocket dialled you by accident.”
The long pause on the other line gutted Emily in the stomach. “Oh.” Andrea’s voice became small again, clearly taken aback. “Right, of course.”
“Sorry. Don’t let me keep you from your busy evening.” Emily continued, words tumbling out of her mouth without a filter.
And then, she did the unthinkable. After so many weeks of wanting to talk to her, Emily hung up without waiting for Andrea to say anything. She tossed her phone to the other end of her couch, buried her face into a pillow, and screamed.
It struck her much later that, like her last call with Andrea when she left Runway, Emily had, once again, not bid her a proper goodbye.
iv.
She came across one of Andrea’s articles by chance, a think piece about the subprime mortgage crisis Americans were facing at the moment, and Emily briefly wondered why Andrea was writing about a financial piece.
She supposed it was because Andrea has always been a seeker of all things relevant to humanity, and she was prolific enough to write about everything that was wrong with the world today.
Emily would never admit it to anyone, most definitely not to Nigel, but she’d reread that article more than three times now. Andrea’s writing has always been captivating, and she’d even been envious that she could never write as well as her even if she tried her hardest.
She liked the article so much she contemplated calling Andrea to compliment her about her latest piece. But the thought came and went away quickly; Emily didn’t do compliments. It was something she picked up from working with Miranda for so long. Though, if she was to be true to herself, she fully blamed the disastrous call months back -- she was sure Andrea would never want to pick up her calls anymore, and it was all her fault.
It was still nice, Emily smiled just a little, running a finger down the page of the newspaper, just seeing her name printed beneath the title. Andy Sachs.
She was proud of Andrea. That she could admit at least, to herself.
What she will not admit though was that for several months after that, Emily would follow every piece of work Andrea had published. And each time she read a new piece, she would be filled with the urge to call her all over again.
But too much time has gone by, and she believes she has missed the perfect window of time to call someone she has not spoken to in such a long time. There was no point in calling anymore, Emily convinced herself. Maybe one day, the opportunity would present itself again. But for now, she was content with just having a piece of Andrea in her life -- in the form of her words printed and published on paper.
v.
One day, Emily received an unexpected call from a headhunter who had promised her a ludicrous array of benefits if she would accept their offer to join Dior.
While obviously flattered, Emily was completely baffled. How did Dior find her profile, and why were they so keen to have her? The company was overpromising her things that made her stomach somewhat uneasy; the increase in her salary, better working hours, more PTOs...you name it.
It made her uneasy because she didn’t even apply for this job. It was going to be a role related to retail, a sector of the fashion industry that she hadn’t even thought of exploring because well, that wasn’t her primary interest. Her passion lied in her current role in Runway, in a tutelage relationship with Miranda Priestly. She wouldn’t even dare dream of betraying Miranda like that, not when she had taught her so much, not when she had learned so much.
Not when she had tolerated so much.
Still, it didn’t hurt to meet the headhunter over a quick lunch.
“Dior is impressed with your credentials and would be pleased to offer you employment under these conditions,” The headhunter had pushed the employment contract across the table and summarised the terms as quickly as she could.
Emily sucked in her breath after she was done. “Why?”
The woman paused. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I am flattered that Dior thinks so highly of me.” Emily smiled politely. “But why the eagerness to hire me?”
The headhunter sat up straighter, her expression impassive. “Like I’ve mentioned before, our management thought you would be a great fit for the company.”
“But why?” Emily pressed on in the gentlest tone she could muster. “I did not submit an application. I certainly would have recalled sending my resume over to such a prestigious brand…”
“Your reputation in the fashion industry precedes itself, Miss Charlton. You’ve been working for Miranda Priestly as her first assistant for so many years. Everybody knows who you are.”
Emily was not fully convinced. Something was simply off about this entire deal. “And this role is exclusively in retail?”
“Yes, and we are confident you would be able to pick things up quickly. Your lack of experience in this area wouldn’t be an issue, correct?”
The irony of her statement was not lost; how could a sentence be both praise and insult? Still, Emily nodded. “Of course.”
“Just think about it, Miss Charlton. Take a few days to mull over the offer. But just remember that if you join us, there is a guaranteed career progression for you. If you stay with the company long enough, you might even get promoted to senior executive someday.”
And then, it all just clicked. Without any warning.
“Right,” Emily managed to say, giving another courteous smile as she picked up the contract on the table slowly. “I’ll review this and let you know my decision soon.”
When she returned to the office, Emily wasted no second in pulling Nigel to the side. “I need you to be honest with me.”
He quirked an eyebrow and gestured for her to continue.
“Will Miranda ever promote me?”
“Emily,” Nigel’s expression was impassive, but it was his eyes that gave away his thoughts. He didn’t need to say anything else. In that moment, Emily felt a rush of emotions she had never felt before pass through her body, nearly paralysing her entire nervous system.
“It’s just…it’s just that I've been her assistant for years. I thought…” She stuttered, her heart pounding against her chest, “I thought if I held out, she would someday acknowledge all my…and I could…”
It felt like someone had stabbed her heart with a knife and twisted it. The hurt she felt realising all her effort was never going to be recognised by Miranda, that she had not done enough despite believing she already had done all that she could. Of never living up to Miranda’s expectations, her standards.
It all made sense now - the sudden offer from Dior that came out of nowhere. It wasn’t even because that company had seen her for her potential, or recognised her for the name she had created for herself. No. She did not earn this job offer through her own merits, however much lies she was fed with. She earned it simply because of one phone call. Just one. And that implication could not be any clearer in her eyes.
Miranda wanted to get rid of her.
Oh god, she felt sick all of a sudden.
Emily didn’t even excuse herself properly; she bolted for the door and rushed into the nearest washroom she could find. She had to remind herself to breathe, to regulate her emotions because everything inside her head was a complete mess. She didn’t know what she wanted anymore. She didn’t know what she deserved, and what was the right thing to do. Emily glanced up from the sink to the mirror and saw someone she could no longer recognise staring right back at her. A dream that had faded away in a matter of seconds, crushed in the weight of words. It wasn’t fair. Nothing about this situation was fair, and now she was forced to leave Runway without the autonomy of choosing because if she did not accept this offer, where would that leave her?
Emily knew she would feel resentment for the next coming weeks. More than anything. She would stare into Miranda’s office and feel a wave of hurt and disbelief that she could never measure up to her idea of a perfect employee for the magazine. She would be ridden with insecurity because she knew Miranda had done what she thought was best for the magazine; and that was not having Emily in it. If she really was talented enough, Miranda would not have allowed her to be poached by another company.
She would then look at the desk opposite her, now occupied by a young lady fresh out of Harvard who had successfully maintained her position for over a year. Miranda even called her by her actual name, and not Emily’s. An assistant she actually wanted to promote, unlike her.
A young lady who reminded Emily of Andrea, yet who isn’t her.
Emily would sigh and lower her head in defeat and rejection. Just the thought of Andrea was enough to cause a turmoil of emotions she could not fully grapple with, something she was surprised to realise when it has been at least a year since she last felt the urge to call her. But when she looked at Miranda’s second assistant, with her own impending future looming over her head, it was enough for Emily to remember again. She allowed herself to indulge in that familiar tug of conflict bridled within her heart; to call or not to call. Let the feeling consume her that night with a promise she was going to let everything go when she called Dior the next day.
Emily was leaving Runway, and she decided it was best to put everything related to it behind her.
And that included Andrea Sachs.
(+one)
Her hair was platinum blonde now, a colour she never would have opted for had she not gone through what was the most traumatic experience in her forty years of living.
After Benji had broken up with her (which she honestly deeply regretted not having been the one who had done that first) Emily knew there was no way she could continue working in a company that had so many personal ties to Runway. There was no way, after what she had done, after what she had heard, that she could face Miranda again. The cut still ran deep even after two decades had gone by. While she admitted her colluding with Benji was a lapse of judgement, and that she had screwed up big time, she couldn’t say she regretted making that decision. She only wanted to restore the honour that was lost when she had been forced out of Runway, not wanting other people to continue making decisions for her.
In order to ensure her path would hardly, or perhaps never, meet Runway’s, Emily settled for a lower tiered company she knew would never be in Miranda’s radar. This time, it felt exceedingly good to know that she got in through her own merits, even if the brand was not as reputable as the other luxury brands in the market. Emily was determined this time to follow the right path under her own terms and she could not be any happier.
Which then naturally led to her reopening a locked chest in her heart she had not touched in fifteen years. She had not been ready then, when she was younger and more naive, to display vulnerability to other people that wasn't herself. To open up her heart so easily, and to share the deepest parts of her with someone she could trust.
But now, after all that has happened, Emily would like to believe that she was ready to be truthful.
So she picked up her phone, drew a deep breath and called the number still saved in her contacts list.
And when Andrea picked up after two rings, Emily did not let fear overtake her emotions this time. “Andy,” She was the first to greet her. “Is this a good time to talk?”
She was still a tad bit nervous, though, knowing how she left things behind the last time she had seen Andrea. There was surely some level of disappointment in her, because sweet and naive Andrea had wholeheartedly believed she was on the same page as her.
“Emily, hi,” The tone of Andrea’s voice was as warm as ever, and Emily expelled a sigh of relief. “Yes, definitely. How have you been? I heard from Nigel that you’re now with Coach?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to talk about that right now.” Emily said briskly. “At least, not over the phone. I’m fine, by the way.”
“Alright,” Andrea laughed, and Emily couldn’t help but to smile. “that’s good to hear! Listen, I actually wanted to talk to you—”
“Before you say anything,” She interrupted gently, not wanting to lose the momentum of her newfound bravery. “I was wondering if you would be free to chat over lunch one of these days?”
A second went by. Then another, and Emily was spiked with impatience (but mostly mild panic of hearing her answer). “God, cat got your tongue? If you don’t want to, you can just say no—”
“No, no! I mean, absolutely yes to lunch,” Emily thought she heard a squeal come from the other side of the line. Honestly, can this woman ever hide an emotion?
“Wait, you are serious, right?”
“Yes, Andrea. Why would I lie about this?”
“I just can’t believe we’re having lunch together. This would be our first time in twenty years? That’s honestly something I never would have expected, Emily Charlton asking me out for lunch together, I mean—”
“Stop. You are rambling.”
“Oops, sorry. Just really excited, you know?”
“I know.” Emily deadpanned.
Andrea continued, “So when do you want to meet? I’m available this Wednesday, and I can go to you.”
Emily couldn’t believe this was really happening. She had to clear her throat in an attempt to calm herself when she replied, “Wednesday is fine. I’ll text you the location.”
“Great! That’s wonderful. I’m soo—”
“Goodbye, Andy.”
In true Emily fashion, she hung up without waiting for Andrea’s response. Emily placed her phone down on the counter top slowly just as a grin broke across her face. She did it. She really did it.
She was finally going to have lunch with Andrea. It was probably still too early to celebrate anything else, because she was well aware of what she had done and what that could potentially mean in her attempt to forge a friendship with Andrea.
But calling her was the first step, and sometimes, taking the first step was enough. And at the end of the day, Emily just wanted Andrea to know that this was her trying.