This chapter is rated M - if you're uncomfortable with that, please skip over the first section.

Well, here it is, friends - the last chapter. A HUGE thank you to everyone who has reviewed - it makes writing so much better when you know people are eager for more.

I hope I did it justice - let me know what you think.

Enjoy

"Miranda," Andy exhaled, dropping her bag to the ground. Was she hallucinating? Was Miranda Priestly really standing just outside her door? And if she was, well, why?

"Going somewhere?" Miranda questioned, a frown taking form on her face.

Andy slowly shook her head, still in a daze. "Not, uh – not anymore," she let out a small, nervous laugh. "Are you really here?" Miranda didn't answer, instead choosing to raise an eyebrow as if to say, does it look like I'm really here? "Sorry, I just… haven't been sleeping well lately."

"Neither have I," Miranda supplied, "Not for seven months now."

"Oh really?" Andy half-snorted, "What happened seven months ago?" There was no smile on her face.

Miranda didn't move for a few moments, letting them stew in the silence that pervaded the hallway. Then, slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet Andy's, and spoke softly. "I found the person I'm going to love for the rest of my life, and I let her go," Andy could see tears forming in the corners of the older woman's eyes. "You've broken me, you see," her voice was hoarse and thick with tears. "Because seven months ago I would never have dreamed of waking up in the middle of the night, packing a bag, and going to the airport. Seven months ago I would have said that aside from my girls, Runway was the thing that meant the most to me. But last night I got up and packed a bag and here I am," her voice broke, and thick tears made their way slowly down her cheeks, "And I would follow you to the ends of the Earth if you asked it of me."

Andy hastily wiped a tear from under her eye and said, "And if I didn't?"

"I would follow you anyway." Miranda made no move to stop the tears that were falling freely from her eyes now, and Andy just stood there, because surely Miranda didn't just say what she thought she said. "Where were you going?" She asked suddenly, motioning to Andy's forgotten bag.

Andy looked down at the bag and then back up at the woman whom she would never ask anything of, but who seemed to be offering her the world. "To wherever you were," she answered simply.

Miranda reached out then, pulling the younger woman in for a searing kiss. Andy walked them back into her apartment, which was lit only by the soft, warm light of the afternoon sun after a day of rain.

When they reached the large table in the middle of the room, Andy shoved everything off it – every sketch, every scrap of fabric, every forgotten pencil made their way to the hardwood floors with a flutter. Flipping them around, Andy unbuttoned Miranda's slacks and pushed them down with her panties before lifting her onto the table.

When Miranda reached for Andy's blouse she shoved her hands away with a gruff, "Later," after which Miranda was content to wrap her arms around her lover's neck and mark her under her ear.

Andy worked off Miranda's sweater, blouse, and bra until the other woman was sitting on the table in front of her completely nude. Stepping in between Miranda's legs, Andy ran her hands over the older woman's stomach, stopping at her breasts, which she fondled gently until she took a nipple in her mouth and bit down. Miranda hissed and Andy laved it gently with her tongue, moaning as she did so.

Miranda gripped Andy's shoulders tightly as the younger woman repeated her actions on Miranda's other breast. She then pushed Miranda back so she was lying on the table and Andy loomed over her, going back to the other woman's chest, this time leaving her mark under the left breast. Miranda gasped, wrapping her legs around her lover's back and pulling her flush with her heat, which Andy could feel through her blouse.

"Please," Miranda groaned. Andy hummed at this and started licking her way down Miranda's torso, murmuring sweet nothings as she went, making the older woman feel loved like she never had been before.

Tears once again made their way down Miranda's cheeks, and she pulled Andy back up to her, kissing her passionately. "I love you," she whispered, her lips brushing against Andy's, "I do. I love you." More tears slipped out of her eyes, "Make love to me."

Andy centered her fingers and plunged them deep into her lover, taking a slow and steady pace. She never kept her lips very far from Miranda's, going back and forth between her collarbone, her neck, and her lips.

Andy could feel when Miranda's climax was near and picked up the pace, circling her clit with varying pressure. As Miranda rode her fingers she flung her arms up above her to hold onto the edge of the table, and suddenly she was crying out, her body going rigid.

Andy didn't even have time to ease her fingers out of her lover's center before they were being ripped out as Miranda shoved her around the other side of the table, shedding her clothes for her as they went. In no time at all Andy was sitting in her favorite leather chair in nothing but her panties, which Miranda ripped off as soon as she sat down.

Before Andy had regained her senses, Miranda was kneeling in front of her, lifting her legs over her shoulders, her tongue going flat against the younger woman's center. Andy cried out, grasping with one hand the arm of the chair while the other went into soft silver hair.

Miranda plunged her tongue into the other woman's heat, pumping her tongue in and out in a frantic rhythm, making Andy writhe and moan loudly. When Miranda plunged two fingers into her center and started using her tongue on the other woman's clit, all Andy could manage to say was oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, until she finally climaxed with a scream.

"You can't give up Runway." They were lying in bed, Andy draped half across Miranda's body, the older woman tracing a lazy pattern onto her lover's bare back.

"Hmm?"

"I can't have you give up Runway for me."

"That's not your decision to make." Miranda continued to trace her patterns, not sounding the least bit concerned.

"Take this seriously, Miranda," Andy admonished, pushing herself up onto her elbows.

"I am, darling, more than you know," Miranda brought her hand up to Andy's cheek. "If staying at Runway means I lose you, well – that's just not acceptable." She spoke softly but firmly, stroking Andy's bottom lip with her thumb. There was no arguing with her this way, Andy knew, and she lay back down with a sigh.

Two weeks later

"Nigel's here for you, Miranda," she heard her assistant say. Not bothering to turn her chair around Miranda knew the girl was still standing there – she could smell the fear.

"Was there something you needed?" She heard the girl give a little croak and then scurry off with a rushed no, Miranda.

"Still terrorizing the poor thing?" drawled Nigel. Miranda turned around for him – after all, she didn't find him unimaginably annoying.

"Well? Why not?" She smirked.

"Indeed," Nigel adjusted his glasses and sat down in front of her desk. "I'm here to talk about the thing you don't want to talk about."

"Oh?" Miranda knew exactly what he was referring to. Andréa. Miranda had been back in New York for a week and a half now, and Andréa was still in Paris. However, Miranda soon planned to join the younger woman – after all, she had made it very clear that she valued the other woman more than Runway, and was prepared to give it up if that's what it took. She would do whatever was required, because if a week and a half was already started to gnaw away at her heart, how could it possibly take any serious length of time? How did she possibly manage seven months?

"There are rumors of your resignation," Nigel tipped his head to the side. "I would have said that possibility was, well, impossible, but you've been different lately."

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Care to share?"

Nigel sighed and leaned back in his chair, clearly comfortable enough with the situation as it was. He could see though, that Miranda most certainly was not. "I won't presume to know what happened between the two of you, but I know that your being "sick" last week had everything to do with being in Paris and nothing to do with the flu."

Miranda glared at him, "But you won't presume?"

Nigel chuckled at that. "I won't presume out loud."

Miranda rolled her eyes, and thought that probably his mental presumptions were right on the money. Nigel always had been perceptive, and he'd known her for a long time. She sighed, "I'm not doing this for her."

He shook his head, smiling slightly. "Of course you are. Miranda, the actions you take are calculated and enacted only if they benefit you or the girls. But this? Resign and move to Paris? That doesn't help you; it doesn't help the girls. It helps Andy, and only Andy," he smiled again. "I never thought I'd see the day."

Miranda leaned back in her chair. "It's the logical choice to make."

Nigel chuckled. "Are you trying to rationalize love?"

"I thought you weren't going to presume out loud?"

"So fire me."

She huffed, rolled her eyes, and then spoke softly, opting for honesty with this man who'd she'd known for over twenty years. "The thing is, I can't seem to breathe without her," she paused as if to say something else, then shook her head. "I'll be giving Irving notice next week."

"I can't imagine Andy's very happy about this," he raised an eyebrow and she pursed her lips – What do you think?

One week later

Andy bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, trying to expel some of the nervous energy as she waited for the elevator. Nigel had called her yesterday afternoon to inform her that Miranda would be giving Irv her resignation today. Apparently he'd been apprehensive about the course of action to take in informing her, which was why she was she was on such a tight schedule.

However grateful she was that Nigel had indeed decided to tell her, she was getting increasingly angry over the fact that she and Miranda had talked about this – at length – and decided not to make any rash moves. This she would consider a rash move.

Hearing the ping of the approaching elevator, Andy tried to calm herself – no good looking like she was going to pee her pants. As the silver doors opened and the hallway filled with people, Andy made her way forward, suddenly hearing loud whispers ripple through the throng.

"No way," the voice was horribly high-pitched, and Andy felt someone sidle up next to her. She imagined that if she weren't wearing her now-signature sunglasses she would have been in for an arm-tug as well. "Sorry, but, you're Andrea Sachs right?"

She smiled tentatively. "Yeah."

"Oh my god," the girl was flapping her arms around a little too much for Andy's liking. "I am like, such a huge fan. You don't even know. Is it true you worked for Miranda Priestly?" She whispered Miranda's name, as if saying it out loud would inevitably lead to experiencing the woman's wrath.

"Yeah, uh, I did," to say Andy was hugely confounded by this conversation was an understatement. No one on the street had ever approached her because of her work. "I have a, uh, meeting I need to get to, so if you'll excuse me," she said, starting once again for the elevator. Now I know why Miranda likes these things so much.

As the elevator ascended, Andy thought about what she was going to say, and not for the first time, she came up blank. The doors slid open just then to reveal Miranda herself.

"Andréa?"

"Miranda," she smiled tentatively. "We seem to be making a habit of this."

"Indeed. Why are you here?"

"Maybe we should do this in your office," Andy supplied, not wanting them to make a spectacle of themselves.

"I have a meeting to get to."

Andy shook her head. "I know where you're going, and it's not happening. Let's go to your office."

The people who "weren't watching" this scene unfold were more than a little surprised to see Miranda Priestly agree without argument.

Miranda let Andy into her office first, ignoring the odd looks from her assistants as she shut the doors. She rounded on the other woman as soon as they were closed.

"What in the world are you doing?"

"Exactly what you think I'm doing." Her voice was neutral as she made her way over to the large window, staring out at the city, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Andréa…" Miranda's tone was soft and pleading.

"Miranda," she didn't turn around. "You love this city. You find inspiration at every corner and in every shop window, and you love the seasons and the thrill of an impending hurricane; you even love the traffic." Miranda could hear the smile tug at her lips. "The thing is, I love it too."

Andy turned around to find Miranda standing still in the middle of her office, arms limp at her side. "I'm willing to do this." For you.

"I know," she smiled. "And I love you for it, believe me I do. But if staying in Paris means you can't do what you love – well, that's unacceptable. I can do what I love from anywhere."

"So what," Miranda's voice was thick with tears, "You'll move back here? Just like that?"

Andy shrugged, "I already rented out a studio space in the east village."

"Did you now?" It came out as a whisper.

"I figured Paris really only needs me a month or two out of the year – just enough to make sure everything's running smoothly."

"Is that what you figured?" They stepped closer to each other, Miranda reaching out to take one of Andy's hands.

"We could keep doing this thing we've been doing, where we magnify every difficulty ten-fold, but it's painful, and it's exhausting, and all I want to do is sleep in your bed tonight."

Miranda swallowed thickly, "Well, you should have said something earlier."

"I guess I just really like last-minute travel arrangements." They both laughed softly.

"So we'll just go for the uncomplicated, then? Just like that?" Miranda rested her forehead against her lover's.

"I think maybe that's how it's supposed to go." Their lips brushed together.

"In the end, you mean?"

Andy laughed softly. "My dear," she drawled, "this is only the beginning."

FIN.