The Guest Editor – Chapter One

A/N: This is new for me…it takes place in the DWP-universe, in about 2014/5...

Miranda Priestly was not having a good day. No, Miranda Priestly was having a terrible day, one of the worst in decades as Editor-in-Chief at Runway Magazine.

Her idiot of a second assistant had forgotten her coffee, managed to stain her scarf with a casserole of all things and to top it all, had lost The Book. All this when she was merely days from celebrating 30 years at the helm of Elias-Clarke's flagship publication.

She was currently berating said assistant in her office. She would fire the poor thing eventually but she wanted the satisfaction of destroying the imbecile stood in front of her.

Then she felt a twinge in her chest. She went to the door to shout at her first assistant to get her some antacids before turning for a final time to put her second assistant out of her misery.

"You're fired. That's all."

"Yes Miranda."

"Eleanor, those antacids please!"

"Yes, Miranda!" Eleanor, the long suffering replacement Emily replied.

Eleanor entered Miranda's office to find her slumped on the floor. After yelling for help, she grabbed the nearest phone to dial 911.

"Eleanor," Miranda called weakly from the carpet. "Call Nigel, tell him to call the number in the envelope in the bottom drawer of my desk. Now its Friday, I want the person he calls to be in my chair first thing on Monday morning. He is not to discuss this with anybody. Oh and please get another competent assistant. The last one gave me a heart attack…" Miranda trailed off chuckling weakly.

"Miranda!?" Emily Charlton, now art director, barrelled into the office.

"Miranda?" Eleanor panicked as Miranda slipped into unconsciousness."

"Ma'am!? Ma'am? Are you still there?" came the voice from the phone.

"Yes I need an ambulance for Miranda Priestly, she's had a heart attack."

"Is she still conscious?"

"No."

"Is she still breathing?" asked the emergency handler.

"I think so," Eleanor replied shakily.

"An ambulance is on its way Ma'am. Please stay on the line until they get here."

"Thank you." Emily started to dig around Miranda's desk until she found an envelope with Nigel's name on it marked "If I get hit by a bus, you know what to do."

She then called Nigel, now Editor at Men's Runway.

"Miranda Priestly's office calling, Sir."

"Thank you Olivia, put her through please." Today was a good day to be Nigel Kipling. He was doing a job he loved, for a woman he worshiped and his work was meeting its deadlines perfectly. He put his office phone on speaker. "Miranda? To what to I owe the pleasure."

"Nigel, its Emily. Take me off speakerphone."

"Emily, what's going on?" he asked, raising the handset to his ear.

"You need to get up here now! Miranda has had a heart attack. She's left instructions. The ambulance is on its way….Nigel? Nigel are you still there?"

"Ye-Yeah." He snapped out of the shock that had gripped him.

"She's left instructions. Get up here now."

"I'll be straight up." He hung up, grabbed his jacket from the office closet and called out to his assistant. "Cancel everything for the rest of the day. I'm on my cell if you need me but only if anything urgent comes up."

"Yes, Sir," replied Olivia who was already moving to the phone.

"Hold the fort."

By the time Nigel had hurried to the lobby to clear the lifts for the paramedics, they had already arrived. He put them in a lift with their stretcher and took the next one. By the time he emerged in the Runway reception area, Miranda was already strapped to a board and being carried out of her office. Emily was hot on their heels.

"I'm going to go with Miranda to the Emergency Room. I'll call if I have any news. Eleanor is back at her desk. The instructions for you are on her desk. You'll need to cancel everything and we need a new second assistant, again. She told me to tell you not to discuss those with anybody. Good luck."

"And you. Call me the second something changes," he called after her as Emily disappeared into the lift.

He then went to open the envelope addressed to him marked "If I get hit by a bus."

Dear Nigel, he read

If I'm hit by a bus, I'll probably be in hospital for quite some time. It means Runway will be left without an editor. I'd let you take charge if you weren't so busy with Men's Runway but we know how important deadlines are so rest assured, you are not to allow Jacqueline Follet to sit in my chair. Emily isn't suited to editorial work.

The person whose number I will write on the bottom of this page is. She's an old friend of ours who should now possess the necessary talent. You only need to Google her to find that she has the experience. If necessary, I want her to guest edit in my absence. If she refuses, then appeal to her heart or something similarly sentimental. If she still refuses, tell her I'll black list her once I get out of hospital and that she will never work in media again. Her boss owes me a few favours which you can call in. I think we both know by now who I'm talking about.

Don't tell Emily what you are doing. She'll only try to stop you. We both know this is the right decision. That's all.

M

Call her: and a telephone number.

Nigel picked up the phone and dialled. "Please pick up!" he muttered as he collapsed into the nearest chair, removed his glasses and mopped his brow with a handkerchief.

"You've reached Andy Sachs, I can't come to the phone right now. I'm probably asleep or working or my phone is switched off or I'm on the subway or I've actually lost it. Anyway, you know what to do, leave your message after the tone. BEEEEEEEP!"

"Six, it's Nigel Kipling from Runway. We need to talk. Call me on this number as soon as you get this." Then he pulled out his cell phone and texted the same thing to the number in the envelope.

Nigel sat and thought for a moment before he got a text alert.

Miranda in ER – E

How is she? He replied.

Still unconscious. They need to run some tests. I'll call you if I have any more news. – E

Where, is Miranda's second assistant?

Miranda fired her just before she collapsed. Get HR to find you another one. – E

So the next call Nigel made was to Elias-Clarke's HR department…where he was put on hold. In frustration he called his own assistant.

"Olivia, its Nigel. Can you come up to Miranda Priestley's office? I need some help?"

"What's going on? I heard a rumour that Miranda was taken to hospital."

"Already? Jesus. Get over here will you. Emily Charlton is with her at the hospital and she fired the other assistant. I need somebody to man the phone whilst I get things sorted here."

"Right away."

"Thank you. I need to call the Twins if Emily hasn't done so already.

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

Miranda's office phone had still not rung and Nigel still hadn't received a text back from her.

Fortunately, contacting the Twins was easy enough. Cassidy was with Caroline at home and they would be making their way to the hospital as soon as was humanly possible.

Andy still hadn't responded. So he tried again.

No response.

To satisfy his curiosity whilst he waited. He Googled "Andrea Sachs" on his phone and was astounded.

Six now had her own Wikipedia page.

"Andrea 'Andy' Sachs (born November 12, 1982) is a section editor at the New York Times having previously written for a variety of publications including the New York Mirror and as a freelance journalist for Associated Press…in 2012 Sachs wrote for Reuters whilst working in Afghanistan for six months. She won a Peabody Award for her coverage of the Egyptian Uprising…Sachs first entered the media world as an assistant to veteran Runway editor Miranda Priestly in 2005 before resigning 8 months later…"

"I didn't know," he muttered. "You've grown up Andy! I have to admit, Miranda's choice of temporary replacement doesn't sound so strange now.

Then his phone buzzed in his hand.

Andy Sachs looked at her phone as she climbed the stairs out of the subway to find a missed call alert labelled 'Miranda – Office'. Before she could get over the shock of seeing a number she had never expected to see again, her phone buzzed with a text, ostensibly from Nigel.

Nigel? How did you get my number? – AS

Call me and I can explain? – N

I can't. In a meeting. – AS

Call me. Now. – N

You're not the only one with deadlines. – AS

We'll be done in 10 minutes. – AS

It's urgent. – N

Then Nigel played his trump card.

Miranda's in hospital. Heart attack. – N

Miranda? – AS

Miranda Priestley. - N

I'm sorry to hear that. Will she be alright? – AS

Emily's with her. You need to come into the office. – N

Then the phone rang in his hand.

"Nigel, Miranda might be in hospital but I haven't worked for her for nearly a decade. I moved on."

"Can you just come into the office?"

"I have a job."

"Well I'm about to offer you a new one."

"If you think I want to work for her again, then you might as well end the call now."

"I'm not offering you a job for her. Miranda wants you to take her place whilst she is sick."

"What?!"

After a few seconds, Nigel broke the silence. "You still there?"

Can nobody else do it?" she asked weakly.

"We all have enough deadlines as it is."

"Are you even still working for her? I thought you were at Men's Runway."

"Technically no."

"Is Emily still her assistant?"

"No, she replaced me. She doesn't know that Miranda asked for you. Miranda wants to keep it that way."

"Who is the first assistant?"

"A girl called Eleanor. She's competent," but nobody could have ever replaced you, he added as a

"And the second assistant? The new me?"

"There isn't one. Miranda fired her just before she collapsed."

"Somebody finally broke La Priestley."

"You sound as if you are gloating."

"No, I'm truly sorry. I'm just amazed to be honest."

"You're not the only one. You interested in the job?"

"I'm going to have to talk to my boss."

"No worries. He owes Miranda a few favours."

"If I'm coming back, I don't want to be able to do my job and get out of there."

"I didn't think convincing you would be this easy."

"It's a career opportunity, and a promotion."

"I thought I'd have to use Miranda's threat."

"I guess she said she'd see me blacklisted if I refused to do as she asked. I'll make it easier for everybody. I'll come to edit Runway. I won't get blacklisted and nobody else gets fired for incompetence. Everyone's a winner."

"One way of looking at it."

"Listen, I'm a news journalist, not a fashion editor. Don't expect miracles."

"I have to admit I was surprised at her suggestion. Then I Googled you. It's impressive Andy. You're an editor. She's only asking you to edit."

"You know that the September issue is due out in three weeks…yes, I do still follow the magazine sometimes."

"Yeah."

"The most important issue of the year."

"I'm aware."

"Are you still sure you want to let me, a journalist with no head for fashion, edit it?"

"I think I managed to instil something in you before you left last time. It was you or Jacqueline Follet."

"That decides it then. I hate her as much as Miranda."

"It's Friday. Do you want to start on Monday?"

"Sounds great. I'll pop by after work this evening though, just to assess the situation."

"Very well."

"You know the very least that you can do know is call my boss and explain why I'm going AWOL for a month if not more."

"I can do that. See you at seven this evening in the lobby?"

"Make it seven thirty. I'll finish up what I've got left to do here."

"See you then."

"Call if Miranda's situation changes. That's all." The phone went dead in his hands. The abrupt end to the conversation and the manner of the conversation made Nigel stop short. It was like talking to a very young Miranda Priestley.

"Andy?" called Anthony Fleming, her boss at NYT from his glass cube of an office half an hour later.

"Did Nigel Kipling call you?" she asked, poking her head around the door.

"Yes, something about you guest editing Runway magazine for the next month and a bit?"

"Heart attacks ruin a weekend." Andy shrugged.

"The woman nearly died."

"She'll be back. She just wants me to fill in."

"I've got no problem with that."

"You mean you don't want to cross Miranda Priestley."

"Even in intensive care that woman has more insider knowledge and soft power than anybody else in the industry. She could sink our fashion and style columns if she so wished."

"A wise decision."

"Well make sure you've got all your open assignments up together before you leave."

"Everything's done. There are a couple of projects set for release next week but I can get somebody else to look at them."

"Well, make sure you come back."

"The Devil won't ensnare me yet. I've left them before."

"Ten years ago."

"Still. It could be fun."

"Andy, don't ever change that happy-go-lucky attitude of yours."

"You realise that one of the reasons I kept this attitude you are so fond of is because I quit as Miranda's assistant."

"Are you worried?"

"I spent six months in Afghanistan. Runway can't be worse than being shot at by the Taliban."

"Well, make sure you keep touch with base. I'm sure we don't want to see you become some sort of fashionista airhead who lives for clothes."

"You know me, I enjoy reality thank you very much."

"You know if you're going to do this, you've got to look the part."

"What's the issue?" Andy asked.

"Well, you can't edit Runway in a sweater and jeans."

"Why not?"

"It's a fashion magazine."

"Well this year in the Andy Sachs' Summer Collection for magazine editors, they are back in fashion…" she did a twirl on the spot. "Don't worry, I can do smart, elegant power dressing and if I run out of stuff in the closet I can always go shopping…or use their closet. You know they store all of the samples they receive…"

A/N: Do tell me what you think. I'm not sure if this will become MirAndy. If it does so, it will be slow and subtle, I didn't really get a femmeslash vibe from watching the film (I haven't read the book) although I can see it has been well done by some Fan Fiction writers. Anything is possible.