3.

Okay, this is ridiculous, Andy thinks fumbling around for the blanket. It gets colder and colder every morning. One night she will freeze to death for sure. She really needs to talk to the super. Of course, it's not easy to do, when she is almost never home, with Miranda piling up work like… The thought of Miranda wakes Andy. So does the feel of something soft and furry under her hand. It's no blanket, Andy decides as she peels her eyes open, and she is not home. And then it hits her – Miranda.

Andy scrambles off the floor (how has she managed to wind up there?) and checks the bed. Oh, thank god - the woman is fast asleep, and it looks like the fever has subsided.

Relieved, Andy inhales, exhales, and sags into the chair. And smiles. Who would have thought that the sight of sleeping Miranda Priestly, snuggled deeply into the blanket, would evoke anything, but an urgent desire to slip away and take off? And yet, watching Miranda now - messed up silver hair; crow feet and wrinkles, clearly visible in a bright daylight; a hint of drool in the corner of the slightly open mouth; a faint dash of color on the high-boned soft cheek – makes Andy feel strangely captivated. Warm. Content.

Then again, she knows better than to relax.

In the bathroom she quickly fixes her hair and make-up. She then spends some time, attempting to sort out the gown that she's now worn (and slept in) for over twelve hours. She can imagine the look on Nigel's face, when she brings this gown back to the Closet. Hopefully, he won't stop talking to her afterwards.

Looking slightly more presentable, Andy returns to Miranda's bedroom and stumbles over the woman's glare. "What are you doing in my house?"

Andy opens her mouth, closes it, then opens again. "Uh, I…"

"Do take forever to answer a simple question. You know how it thrills me!"

"Miranda," Andy hates the way her voice quivers, "yesterday, you fell ill at the party and…"

"I don't need the recount of last night's events," Miranda interrupts, attempting to sit up. She stops Andy's move to help with an impatient gesture and struggles on her own, until she is propped against the pillows. "Why are you still here?"

Andy gulps and, unsure of what Miranda may remember, tries again, "The doctor didn't want to leave you alone, and you didn't want a nurse, and I was already here…"

"You were, weren't you," Miranda states and looks her up and down. "Is it the Malandrino you wore at the party last night?"

Automatically, Andy's hands go to smooth out the wrinkles. "Yes, it is." Would she be able to pay for this damn gown, if Miranda accuses her of destroying it by reckless wear?

But Miranda says nothing further about the gown. Instead, she pinches her lips in a tight line and studies Andy with cold, hooded eyes. Andy tries very hard not to fidget. Trouble is, the longer Miranda doesn't say anything, the harder it is. As much as Miranda was out of it last night, she still might remember something. Enough to make the ruined designer gown the least of Andy's worries.

Finally, Miranda moves her eyes away from Andy and looks out the window. "So, you've stayed, now you can go…wherever you go. Home. That's all."

"But I don't want to," almost comes out of Andy's mouth. Shocked, she sucks in a breath and carefully says "But I can't" instead.

Miranda, the eyebrow raised, slowly turns to look at her.

"I am sorry," Andy quickly continues, "but the doctor asked me to stay until he comes to check up on you."

"I do not need to see a doctor." Miranda's voice goes very quiet. Dangerous.

"Right. I'll call and tell him that you are awake and fine, and…"

"Give me the phone," Miranda interrupts impatiently.

While Miranda speaks to the doctor, Andy paces outside the woman bedroom. She has put her heels back on, and, ignoring the sorry state of her gown, looks presentable enough even for Miranda's stringent requirements. Not that it will help much, when…

"Andrea," Miranda calls out. Whatever the doctor has told the woman has put her in a better mood, Andy notices. There is even a hint of a smile on Miranda's lips, although it is gone as soon as she sees Andy. "Since you insist on staying, make yourself useful."

"Would you like me to go get you Starbucks?" Andy asks quickly, refusing to get upset over the disappearance of Miranda's smile.

The woman looks at her as if she can't decide how the biggest idiot on the planet is happened to be her assistant. Then, she glances pointedly at the hem of the Malandrino gown that has a little train to it and says, "I have a perfectly good coffee machine in the kitchen. Try not to destroy it."

"Of course." Andy nods and turns to leave, when she sees Miranda pushing her blanket aside. "But you can't…" Andy blurts out.

"Pardon?" Miranda's eyebrows go up.

"Your doctor wanted you to remain in bed, so…"

"I am sure a trip to the bathroom won't kill me," Miranda cuts. "That's all."

Probably it won't, Andy hurrying down the stair. Still, as she bustles around the kitchen, Andy can't help, but listen carefully to every sound coming from upstairs. She feels much better when she returns to Miranda's bedroom with the coffee and sees Miranda safely back in bed.

While they wait for the doctor, Miranda insists on doing some work and commands Andy to make calls, and to take notes, and to check e-mails. Which Andy does, to her own amazement, without a trace of displeasure. Probably, seeing Miranda being herself again makes up for a lot of inconveniences, Andy decides.

The doctor comes about an hour later. He smiles and says, "Rough night, huh?"

"I am so sorry, Doctor Steckelman," she blushes, "for calling you all night. I was just…"

The doctor stops her with a wave of his hand. "Andy, no apologies necessary. I am a doctor, remember? The guy, who people call, when they are sick."

"Yes, but…"

"No buts," the doctor interrupts. "Besides, it was my fault – I shouldn't have left you with Ms. Priestly." He shrugs. "But don't worry, I am going to rectify the situation." Only now Andy notices that the doctor is not alone. "Let me introduce you to Heather. Nurse Heather. Heather, this is Andy Sachs, Ms. Priestly assistant."

It is no wonder, Andy thinks, that she hasn't notice the woman before –the grey bulky coat and a bluish knitted hat make her almost invisible next to the tall, handsome doctor. But the nurse has a nice smile and a firm handshake.

Wait a moment, a nurse? "Doctor Steckelman, I am sure Heather is an excellent nurse, but Miranda is very adamant about…"

"Andy, I'll take care of it." The doctor smiles at her and, before she has a chance to argue any further, gestures to the stairs. "Ladies."

"Doctor Steckelman said you did very well last night," the nurse tells Andy as they follow the doctor, "but I am sure you can't wait to get out of this pretty dress and take a long nap, don't you?"

Andy doesn't understand why Heather's friendly address makes her feel anything but friendly, so she just "hmm's" in response and tells herself that Miranda will never agree to this.

But Miranda does, and ten minutes later Andy finds herself outside the townhouse, hauling the taxi and cursing the January icy wind, her high heels and too thin coat, and…and…

At home, she peels off her gown and falls asleep, having barely made it to her bed.

She doesn't dream of anything, but wakes up late at night, sweating and gasping for breath. At first, she doesn't know what to make of it, but then it comes to her – Miranda. Is she… Does she… How is she?

Gosh…

Andy inhales and exhales slowly several times and goes to check her messages. There is none from Miranda. Which is not unusual. It is Saturday, after all. A weekend.

Or Miranda's fever has spiked again, and… Andy gulps.

No, it's fine, she tells herself firmly. And, no doubt, Heather is much better than Andy at dealing with… Everything is fine.

Right.

Absolutely.

There is also a good possibility that she was fired.

Yet, as she rummages in vain through her fridge, dresses up and goes out in search of twenty-four hour deli, Andy can't stop picturing Miranda, shaking from the rising fever, a strand of silver hair stuck to the sweaty forehead, blue eyes bright and unfocused …

Unable to sleep, Andy spends most of the night watching infomercials and pacing around her tiny apartment. She finally dozes off on the couch, only to wake up a mere couple of hours later, shivering despites the sweats and a pair of long woolen socks. She should get the super, Andy thinks, Sunday morning or not, and make the man fix her damn heating unit. Instead, she stares with blearily eyes at the wall for a while and then goes to check her messages.

There are none.

Andy swears and decides that she is being ridiculous. If she is so concerned about Miranda, she should just call Heather and ask her directly.

"Good morning, Andy," Heather answers cheerfully, "It is so nice of you to call. I am sure Miranda will appreciate your concern."

That Andy doubts very much. "So, um, how is she?"

"Oh, Ms. Priestly is resting. She had a difficult day yesterday and some trouble with fever last night…"

Andy's grip on her cell gets a little tighter. "Was it, uh, high?" The image of Miranda, talking in hot, raspy whispers, flushes before Andy's eyes, and she swallows hard.

"No, nothing more than a hundred and two," Heather answers. "She handled it very well. Ms. Priestly is a fighter."

You have no idea, Andy thinks. Well, may be you have, having spent a whole day with Miranda. Surprising, Heather still manages to sound cheerful. Is she that professional? On the other hand, Andy remembers the way Miranda let Dr. Steckelman talk to her. May be there is another side to her boss, Andy considers. Reserved for those, who do not work for the Runway, she adds grimly.

Better not to dwell on in it.

"I'd like to stop by." Andy supposes she sounds reasonable. People visit their sick colleagues all the time. "Should I bring anything?"

"I don't think it's a good idea, Andy," Heather tells her sincerely. "It doesn't look like Ms. Priestly will be up for receiving visitors today."

Andy bites her lip. "But, um, does she need…Do you have food?"

"Oh, don't worry about us." Even over the phone, Andy can tell that the nurse has a warm smile. "Rosalinda, Ms. Priestly's housekeeper, is here. She is taking good care of Ms. Priestly and me. There is no need for you to come."

But I just want to see Miranda, almost pops out of Andy's mouth. She coughs and says, "Tomorrow then?'

"I hope so. But talk to Dr. Steckelman first, Andy."

"Okay, I'll call him." Andy hesitates. "Keep me updated on, um, Miranda, all right?"."

It turns out that Dr. Steckelman not only wants no visitors for Miranda, he also prefers her daughters to stay away from her for a day or so and thinks that the earliest Miranda can be back at the office is Wednesday.

Wednesday!? Andy has no idea why it should bother her so much. Yet, as she exchanges texts with Emily, and negotiates with Miranda's ex-husband to have him keep the girls for another day, and rearranges Miranda's schedule, Andy can't stop thinking that it is two full days till Wednesday.

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A/N Thank you for reading and reviewing