Can't find my... whatever it is for this chapter. Sorry. Also, did you know my former teacher added me on Facebook. Freud is laughing in his grave about my confusion and feelings about that. This is an entirely random confession. Apologies, but its night and I have to sleep. Yada yada for whom the mistakes all belong to. Me, that is.

Miranda sat at her desk when her eye fell on the neatly arranged magazines. A violet envelope with her name on it graced one of them, as if it was part of her daily selection. Deeming it worthy of opening by the sheer graciousness of the handwriting that had formed her name she picked it up.

Dear Miranda,

I am so sorry I was not able to choose for myself. You are a marvellous person.

Thank you, for everything.

Andrea

Miranda's clenched her jaw and her hands were trembling. This was unacceptable. Not only the last person she would expect a note from had written her, but it did not make sense. Not at all. Not in any scenario where this wasn't a goodbye-letter. And this wasn't. It. Wasn't. Not over her Runway empire.

With a devilish pace she walked into Nigel's office. Setting her iciest voice she asked:

'What is this supposed to mean?'

Nigel looked up from his light table to glance at his long time friend and boss, who held up a thin paper. He no longer got scared by her sudden appearances in his office. But Miranda looked extremely tense. Easily he recognized the violet paper that he had received in his mailbox yesterday morning. Apparently the sorting of personal post went a little slower here at Runway. The Violet had slapped him in his face, and it would have wrung his gut into a knot if he hadn't known the mistake that turned out to be the saving of his protégé. He could only phantom how the violet made Miranda feel, she was not used to have others influence her emotions on a big scale. At any scale really. And somehow Andy had always be able to do just that.

'A letter from Six I assume'. He tried to stay void of emotions.

'And why would Andrea send me this Nigel?'

He frowned, hadn't she read it? Turning back to the spreadsheets he tried to buy him some time in order to come up with a non-threatening answer.

'Look. At me. Nigel.' Miranda's voice clipped.

Sighing Nigel pulled out his handkerchief to polish his glasses. 'Well, I know she is back home now, but from what I heard was that she sent it when she was still dying so obviously she was not exactly in shape to stop the mail when-' he stopped talking, because Miranda looked paler than ever before. Not even when she was in her 21th hour of labour and Cassidy's life was at risk.

'… she…' Miranda didn't even get a sentence out.

'Yes, the erroneous swap of scans at the hospital.' He nodded again to her hand 'They give these to patients if they want to write a last letter, although the colour always putt me off, why violet for… Miranda what is in your letter?'

Microflashes of emotions were displayed on Miranda's face and as expected, anger overshadowed it all. There was only one conclusion possible. Andy hadn't told Miranda she was dying, just like she hadn't told him or Emily, and now she would actually be a dead, dead woman. Miranda opened her phone and barked 'Emily, have Roy waiting for me outside. That's all.'
She turned to Nigel again and looked at him as if she would behead him. 'You knew about this?'

'I did not, as a matter of fact.'

Miranda ignored his answer. 'And you didn't bother to inform me?'

Miranda there was nothing that we could have done, Six neglected to say anything about her diagnosis, or rather misdiagnosis-'

'That's all.' Miranda swiftly walked out of his office.

Nigel was at a loss of what just had happened.

Andrea was lounging in her apartment. Well, as far as she could. Most of the time she felt like somebody had taken her body through a wrangler several times and then put on some Berlin underground House music in her head. It hurt like hell, together with her lungs, and all her muscles ached. Rationally she knew this was good news. Her antibiotics were helping, and her body was recovering from the morphine withdrawal. But knowing and feeling were –as the classic tale went- two vastly different entities at the moment.

She had set alarms for reminding her to take her pills with lower doses of opiates. Andy hadn't wanted them, and opted for withdrawal cold turkey style, but with the state her body was in the doctors strongly advised against it. She had given in, with the promise that they lowered the doses pretty fast, shortening the withdrawal period. Which was why she was now lying like a towel on her couch. Doug, the sweetheart, had come by again to make soup for her. They hadn't talked about her letter, but when she saw his face she immediately knew he had read it. Too weak to bring up the topic, she had accepted the pretending charade that they would do. For now.

Besides, Nigel had called yesterday. He had not been angry at her. But there hadn't been any of the dramatic flair in his voice either. In fact, it had been the first time that she had heard him being anything but witty and sarcastic-tender with her. He had just asked her one question with a voice that betrayed concern as well as something… undefinable. 'Are you okay… now?'

'Yes.' she had answered. And she had felt guilty of not telling him. Like she had so many times before.

'Thank god Six.' She heard some sniffling. And Andy had glassed over herself. She was silent for a while, and then at the brink of apologizing. But apparently Nigel had grabbed himself together enough to say; 'Good. We got a pair of shoes by Galliano that are your size yesterday. They're ridiculous. Very comfy like. A sore sight for the fashion world. Would be a waste not to be able to give them to you.'

She grinned. 'Yes. Such a shame.'

Then she got a coughing fit. And he said in his normal voice that he hoped the germs wouldn't travel through their connection. She stuttered in between breaths that it was unlikely, but that she would talk to him soon. They hung up and Andy fell asleep.

Now she woke up because of insistent knocking on her door. Her phone said it was eleven in the morning. She wondered who was at her door. Lily and Doug were working and her boss would probably not be that attentive. Slowly she rose from the couch, internally debating whether she could afford it to strain her voice by trying to yell that she was on her way but decided that the stranger better waited for her. Either they wanted to talk to her or they didn't, a minute of extra time would not make a difference.

She opened the door and stared.

In front of her stood Miranda. A very stoic looking Miranda, which meant not a very happy Miranda. And Andy was at the receiving end of her glare. Without saying anything Miranda moved her body and Andy immediately stepped aside to let Miranda in her apartment. Miranda strode by her in swift movements.

With a meticulous glance Miranda scanned her living room-slash-kitchenette. Andrea was too surprised, and too dizzy to understand why Miranda was here, and what she exactly was looking for. Until Miranda briskly walked up to the scale on her countertop where Andy held her valuable items. She held up a chain with a few keys.

'Yours I presume?'

Andy looked at her with a blank expression. What was going on? She answered though. 'Yes?'

'Which one is of your apartment?'

'Miranda wh-'

The pursing of Miranda's lips was enough to function as an interruption. Andy sighed helplessly. 'The middle silver one is of my front door. The bigger goldish one of the front door of the complex.'

Miranda opened her bag and flipped out her phone. It took one ring before someone at the other end answered. 'Get up here. Right now.'

So it was her assistant that she called. Probably. Was Miranda going to take hold of her apartment block? Had she on a whim bought it, in an attempt to drive Andy out of town after all this time? Before she could gather the energy to ask a blonde woman appeared in the doorstep. She looked nervous but also a bit arrogant. Made for the job it seemed. However Miranda apparently thought different about that. 'Emily.'

'Yes Miranda.'

'Get this key doubled within an hour and not any sooner or later. Do not return until 12:00, bring the spare one to my office. That's all.'

'Yes Miranda.' The girl retrieved the keys and hastily made her way out of Andy's apartment.

'Hey. Those are my keys. How am I going to-'

'You are not going to do anything Andrea.' Miranda hissed.

Was that a command? How could she not do anything? Was she doing something that she had to stop? Why did Miranda take her keys? Only now she smelled Miranda's perfume in the room. It made her light in her head.

And then Miranda slipped her phone back in her bag and she spotted the violet paper that was neatly stuck inside. She gasped. And with a quick look at Miranda she saw that Miranda knew she had seen it.

Miranda clenched her Jaw, but refused to say something. They stared at each other. Miranda with an unreadable expression, Andy with surprise and uncomfortableness. Until after half a minute Andy realised that she had to lie down soon for her body was protesting a lot.

Instead she said 'Do you want coffee?'

'Do I want cof- really Andrea?' Miranda was truly angry now. For Miranda not to finish her sentence meant big trouble.

'I'm sorry I just thought…' She meekly shrugged her shoulders in some form of apology.

'For Pete's sake I don't want-' Miranda regained her sanctum by inhaling through her nose. 'I don't want coffee. Emily will be back to return the key's. After that you. Will. Sleep. Am I to be understood?'

Andy nodded.

'Good.' Miranda walked back to the doorstep and did not turn around while saying 'That's all.'