BEFORE A MIRROR DIMLY (prequel to Now In A Mirror Dimly

Disclaimer: Any characters you recognise belong to Kay Thompson, Meg Cabot and/or Disney.

Rating: FRC

Summary: This is my take (with certain inputs from revsue) on what happened in the run up to the start of her Eloise/PD crossover Now In A Mirror Dimly

Sir Wilkes was sitting up in bed, covers pooled at his waist when the phone rang. Marking his place in his book, he put it down and picked up the receiver.

"Is this Sir Wilkes?" A pleasant voice asked from the other end of the line.

"Yes," he replied, "this is he."

"Good. I'm calling on behalf of Queen Clarisse Renaldi, please hold on as I put you through." she said, and he patted down his sheets, trying to quell his nervousness.

"Wilkes?" Clarisse's voice was soft and warm and instantly put him at ease.

"Clarisse." he responded.

"I can only apologise for calling this early," she said immediately. "but I seem to have the most ridiculous schedule this week."

"Not at all. As I said to your assistant yesterday, I probably wouldn't be up quite yet if I wasn't expecting your call but…" he trailed off, feeling himself blush. It was a little after 6.30am in New York but his alarm would have gone on in an hour on any normal day. "I just hope they aren't working you too hard." he added.

"No more than usual." Clarisse said lightly, chuckling at him. "Oh, I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to seeing you."

"It…it has been too long." He admitted. They talked for almost a half hour, about his plans to visit in ten days, and about the inconsequential things that they seemed to still be able to pick up on from when they had last talked.

"How is life living in the Plaza?" she asked once she had managed to stop chuckling at him. He was about to reply when the sound of someone banging on his door startled him.

"I… I'm afraid that I'm going to have to go, Clarisse…" he said, trying to figure out exactly who could possibly be at his door this early in the morning. "There's someone outside…"

"Well, I shall see you when you arrive, then."

"Yes… Yes… Sleep well." He said absently, pulling his sheets from around him and sitting up on the edge of the bed.

"Sir Wilkes!" Eloise's voice was plainly audible from outside and equally recognisable. What wasn't, however, was the obvious panic in her tone. Pulling on his dressing gown and slippers he opened the door, blinking at the bright light that flooded in from the corridor.

"Oh, Sir Wilkes!" she cried, flinging herself at his legs. She was crying, almost hysterically, but he was frozen. He had no idea how to deal with an upset child… had no experience with children at all. Looking back up the corridor, he wondered where Nanny was. Undoubtedly she would know what to do. Eloise was trying to tell him something but amongst her sobs it was incredibly difficult to figure out what that was. "… Nan…" As soon as he heard this much, his mind was galvanised to action. "…can't wake… There's something wrong… you have to come…" she managed to get out eventually, all but dragging him towards their rooms. Wilkes wasn't sure what to think, or even what it was he should do, but it seemed that choice was being made for him.

Casting his mind back to the previous morning, it was plain to see that Nanny had been under the weather. They had obviously been going out though, and when he had seen the rain start that afternoon he had hoped that she and Eloise were already back, but suspected from the air of peace and general quiet of the foyer that they had not. He hadn't seen anymore of them yesterday though. He paused in the doorway to their suite, his propriety holding him back.

"Please, Sir Wilkes!" Eloise's plaintive cry, quiet and tremulous, was more than enough to melt his heart though. "I… I can't get her to wake up." Mustering up what little courage he possessed, he patted the child's head in what he could only hope was a reassuring fashion before heading towards the bedroom door. The room was in almost complete darkness, but the light from the living room was just enough for him to see by. He had never been into Nanny's room before but his attention was immediately drawn to the bed in its centre. Eloise hung back as Wilkes moved forward, trying to get a better view of the rumpled bed. In the nervous silence, he could hear her breathing, ragged and rapid. Nanny's head was tossing and turning, her face covered with a sheen of perspiration, as she fought with the sheets that were encompassing her. She seemed so lost in the middle of the bed, so small and fragile, that he found it hard to equate her with the woman he had grown to respect so much. Kneeling down, he reached out to touch her, only to hesitate before he made contact. Then Nanny turned again, and her head came to rest quite naturally beneath his palm. His momentary shock at this was soon overcome by his concern at the heat that was radiating from her. Wilkes' own experience dealing with sick people was almost as minimal as that of his dealing with children but he knew enough to realise that the woman before him was seriously unwell.

"Nanny?" he tried quietly, hoping to be able to rouse her, but with little success. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he tried shaking her, and although she moaned, softly it was quickly becoming plain that she was not going to wake up. Turning her head away, she began to cough. Gently at first, though he could hear the wet crackle in her lungs, but the fit quickly grew more serious. In a matter of moments, her body was being racked by these spasms. Doing the only thing he could think to do, Sir Wilkes tried to help her upright, knowing that that ought to help her breathing. He struggled with her limp form, but eventually managed to prop her up, helping to support her himself. Despite his best efforts, it was plain to see she was in great discomfort and that she was still struggling hugely to draw breath.

"Eloise!" he called, turning to look behind him to where he suspecting the child had remained. A snuffling noise from the doorway confirmed his suspicions. "Do you know how long she's been like this?"

"I… I…" she began.

"It's ok. No-one's going to be angry with you. I just need to know."

"When we came back yesterday afternoon…" she began, sniffing rather violently. "… she wasn't very well. She got me into dry clothes and then she went straight to bed."

"Was she coughing then?" he asked,

"A little. Not like this. Will Nanny be ok?"

"I… I'm…" Wilkes couldn't think what to say. His own mind was reeling. "I'm sure she'll be fine. But I think…" He was interrupted however, when Nanny shifted in his embrace. In a testament to the inbuilt nature of her manners, she had brought her hand up to her mouth, if rather ineffectually, and suddenly as it now fell away he saw a spattering of blood across her palm. She fell forward, against him, as though her energy had been entirely sapped and he could feel her chest heaving as she continued to struggle for breath. Spurred to action, he turned back to face the child in the doorway.

"Eloise," he began calmly. "I need you to call the front desk. Tell them what's happened and that I say they're to phone for an ambulance – right away. Understand?" she nodded and ran from his sight.

It was only once they were alone that Wilkes realised that he was sitting on Nanny's bed, holding her up against his chest. He started at this, but primarily at the fact that the realisation was quite a pleasant one. Shaking his head, he reminded himself that the woman he was currently holding was seriously ill. If he hadn't been convinced of that before, the blood and her increasingly laboured breathing was certainly serving to solidify his concern. Rather awkwardly, he rearranged the pillows against the headboard before shifting her back to rest against them. She was dripping with sweat, presumably from both the temperature she was running and the effort simply breathing appeared to have come. Pulling the sleeve of his dressing gown down, he used it to wipe down her brow, trying to recall what it was his own Nanny had done for him when he had been ill. He could hear Eloise talking outside as he brushed the stray strands of hair out of Nanny's face. He found himself stroking her head quite naturally and it seemed like second nature to try to reassure her any way he could, whether she could hear him or not.

"Don't you worry… you'll be fine…"

It could have been a lifetime or a mere matter of minutes before the noise from outside the room infiltrated through into his conscious again.

"Eloise?" It was Bill's voice, and he was greeted with another flood of tears. Only a few seconds later, there was a quiet rap at the door and Miss Thompson stepped in.

"Sir Wilkes? Mr Salamone's called for an Ambulance. I just came up to see if there was anything I can do?"

"I…" he began. "I don't really know." he admitted, feeling hugely out of his depths and incredibly grateful that someone else was there to whom he could hand over responsibility.

"Well. Bill's taken Eloise downstairs to help look for the ambulance..."

"Good. That's probably good." he murmured, turning back around to look at Nanny, suddenly not wanting to leave. Miss Thompson came closer and, crouching down next to the bed, cast a critical eye over the patient.

"Oh, you poor dear." she said, quietly. "She really is in a pretty bad way, isn't she…" she produced a first aid kit from somewhere and out of that a thermometer and placing a cap on the end, inserted it into Nanny's ear. They sat in silence until the device beeped and Miss Thompson read the result. "105.3º. That is high. And she's obviously struggling to draw breath."

"When she was coughing earlier…" he found himself saying. "There was blood… I think. Not a lot but…" he added, feeling rather stupid now.

"No – I think it was a good thing that we called for an ambulance." she continued, almost to herself. Sir Wilkes looked up at her at this point. "Better safe than sorry, in any case." she added. "I had Bill bring up some things - I'll be right back." Turning back to look at Nanny, Wilkes' heart constricted yet again. He couldn't quite comprehend how she could still manage to look so pale, despite the flush of fever that marred her cheeks. Her hair was falling from its fastenings, forming a wispy halo around her face and he couldn't resist the urge to reach out and touch it. Hearing Miss Thompson return, he dropped his hand, and shifted back on the bedspread a little.

"Right, now I've got some cool water and a flannel…" Miss Thompson said, placing a porcelain basin on the table nest to the bed. "Let's see if we can't make you a little more comfortable, Nanny." Wilkes watched as the other woman dipped the cloth into the bowl and rung it back out again. He was more than a fraction surprised when he had to unwind his hand from Nanny's as he moved further back. He was equally surprised by her reaction as he placed her hand back on the cover however, as she seemed to almost reach back out for him. "Why don't you take this - " Miss Thompson suggested, handing over the cool compress, gesturing for him to move back up the bed. "That's it." she encouraged as he reached forward and wiped Nanny's face before laying the cloth across her brow. A few moments later, for the first time since Sir Wilkes had entered, her eyes flickered open. He found that her gaze was unfocussed but none the less, he was drawn to it.

"Hello there." he said, as she seemed to notice him. Her mouth moved, as though she were trying to say something but was struggling to find enough breath.

"Eloise?" she managed eventually.

"Eloise is fine." Miss Thompson said. "Bill is looking after her for the moment." she seemed reassured by this, but shortly began to cough again quite violently. Wilkes could honestly say he had never been so unnerved as he was when the tears began to escape Nanny's eyes, as she pressed a hand to her chest, obviously in pain as she fought for breath. He was frozen in inaction, he wanted so desperately to help her but was at a loss at to what it was he could actually do.

Once again, the sound of people approaching down the corridor awoke him to reality though and an instant later the room seemed to have been invaded. As the paramedics swept in, Sir Wilkes backed away leaving them to get on with their job, knowing that Nanny was now in safe hands. He answered their questions to the best of his ability but couldn't for the life of him remember what they had been when he thought back on it later. When it was clear he was no longer needed, he returned to his own rooms and hoping to restore some sort of normality to his day, dressed quickly. He was fixing his cravat, trying to forget the look of panic on Nanny's face and convince himself that breakfast was a good idea when, for the second time that morning, there was a knock at his door. Opening it, he found Miss Thompson standing there.

"I've pulled some things together for her." she said, holding up an overnight bag. "Her toothbrush, a spare nighty and her robe… I thought she might like some of her own things while she's in hospital."

"Oh… Yes, I suppose that is a good idea." he agreed, not certain what it was that she wanted from him.

"Right then." she said smiling and holding out an overnight bag towards him. He looked at her blankly. "I was assuming that you were going to go to the Hospital with her." she elaborated. "I'd hate for her to be alone…"

"Well yes, I suppose…" he blustered, taking the case.

"You had better hurry."

"They haven't left then?" he asked, stepping out and closing the door behind him.

"No – they wanted to get a saline drip into her, and get her onto the oxygen before they moved her. They just went down in the elevator."

"Right…" he mumbled, finding himself being ushered along. It was only once they had crossed the foyer and he was being helped into the back of the Ambulance that it actually struck him what it was he was doing.

"Don't you worry, Sir," the technician said as they pulled off. "I'm sure your wife'll be just fine."

A/N: great big hugs to revsue and tayryn. As always, I would love to hear (or read rather) what you think of this.

Thanks

xLx