Disclaimer: If you recognize something, it isn't mine.

A/N: English is neither my first, nor my second language. Please, proceed at your own risk.

THE FLU

1.

"Andrea, bring me the RSVP's."

Andy is up and has a list in her hand, before she even has a chance to process Miranda's request. A quick walk later she is standing in front of her boss. "Miranda."

Over the rim of her reading glasses, the woman in question looks at the papers in Andy's hand and frowns. Andy also peeks at the papers. "Miranda?"

"I thought I was very clear, when I asked you to bring me the RSVP's." Miranda says it in a very calm, quiet tone of voice, but Andy knows better than to linger.

As she rushes out of her boss' office, she glances at Emily. "RSVP's?" she mouths. The girl only shrugs in response and promptly returns her attention to the computer screen.

Right.

Andy heads to the cabinets, grabs a box, quickly checks the content, and returns to Miranda's office. The woman greets her with "put it on the table" without looking at her. Andy nods automatically, does what she is told, and pauses just long enough to hear "that's all."

Back at her desk, for a moment Andy lets herself think about Miranda's strange request. But the phone rings, and her attention shifts to the caller.

At night, while waiting for the Book, Andy wanders into Miranda's office to pick a newspaper to read. As she walks out with the New York Times, she notices the box of RSVP's on the table. All the cards are still in the box, and Andy wonders if her boss has actually looked at them.

Still thinking about it, Andy returns to her desk and pulls out a list of invitees. It looks like this party is more social than business or charity event, she realizes soon. There are very few people from fashion world, not enough Wall Street or Real Estate heavy hitters, and a number of names Andy doesn't recognize at all. And Miranda is eager to see someone, or ones, at this particular party. Are they coming?

Either way right there and then Andy decides to do her very best to make sure everything goes smoothly. If she is right, this is more than just business, this is personal for Miranda. And she absolutely doesn't want to think how horrid the woman will get if there is so much as a glitch.

For the next week and a half Andy watches her boss for any signs of displeasure (more than usual that is) or satisfaction, trying to figure out if those, important for Miranda people, have actually accepted the invitation. But Miranda is being Miranda, and Andy is so busy that most of the time she rarely has a chance to look at the woman, let alone figure out the unusual changes in her disposition.

But in the end, no matter how hard Andy works to take care of every little detail for the party, on the day of the event a disaster strikes. Miranda comes into the office an hour later that usual, cancels her morning appointments, and asks Andy to get her personal physician on the phone.

The situation becomes clear after Nigel's brief meeting with Miranda. The man leaves her office in an obvious hurry, whispers "flu," and disappears, shaking his head.

"Flu…" Emily repeats, her eyes wide in horror.

"You mean…" Andy glances at Miranda's closed door.

"Oh my god, what are we going to do?" Emily shifts nervously papers on her desk.

"No biggie, Em," Andy shrugs, "There is stuff she can take…"

"She is allergic to most of it," Emily informs darkly.

"Oh. But I am sure there is something…"

Miranda storms out of her office. "I'll be out for an hour. Get me Richard on the phone by twelve. Call florist to confirm there is no freesias anywhere in the hall…" The woman suddenly stops and sneezes. Then, she sneezes again. Andy, after a very brief hesitation, puts down her pencil and pad and offers Miranda a box of tissues. The woman glares at her, grabs the coat and the bag from frozen in place Emily, and stomps out. Andy swallows hard and refuses to think about the party.

But whether she thinks about it or not, when the time comes she dresses up and goes to the event.

She is there, when Emily, who went with Miranda to the afternoon meeting, comes in.

"How is she?" Andy asks right away, foregoing a "skinny" complement, which usually makes the other girl a little easier to work with.

"I think we may survive," Emily answers, also foregoing her usual snippy tone. "Her doctor gave her something." Then, she mutters, "I do hope, it bloody holds till the end of the party."

It seems to, and the party goes without a hitch. More or less. Andy doesn't care that Emily and she have to deal with a couple of drunken guests, and a clumsy waiter, and a misplaced chair, and other little things like that, as long as Miranda is, well, Miranda, and not some watery-eye, feverish, fire-breathing dragon in the middle of very important for her event.

Whatever Miranda has taken works so well that Andy begins to relax and enjoy herself a little. She's even strikes a conversation with an older couple, whose son, as it turns out, works for the New York Times. But as she is about to tell them that she's read some of his articles, in the corner of her eye she sees Miranda's face goes pale. Andy excuses herself and makes a bee line to the group of people around the woman.

"Would you like me to call Roy?" she asks quietly, after she manages to pull Miranda aside.

"Have I asked you to?" Miranda hisses back, but her displeasure is very short lived, as she momentarily sways on her feet.

"Miranda!?" Andy barely stops herself from grabbing the woman.

"Uh," Miranda breathes in, purses her lips into impossibly tight line, then shakily breathes out, and whispers, "Call Roy."

Thank God.

It is quickly decided that Emily stays and mans the party, while Andy takes Miranda home.

"I am perfectly capable of…" Miranda begins, already in her coat and heading out the door. However before she manages to express her objections, Miranda sways again. "Uh…"

"Miranda?"

The woman takes a deep breath and, ignoring Andy, walks out with a determined, straight gait. Andy pauses for a moment, but then rushes after her.

As Miranda climbs into the car, Roy, who holds the door for her, and Andy, who hovers on the side, exchange panicked glances. At the end Andy bites her lip and slides next to Miranda.

The short ride Andy spends worrying. At first she worries that she has imposed her help on Miranda, and when the woman is back to her normal self… Gosh, better not even go there. Andy glances at Miranda and promptly begins to worry about something else. Even in dim flashes of street lights, they are passing, the woman's face looks unnaturally pale. And the way she sits, kind of slumping against the door, breathing rapidly…

She probably should call Stephen to give him heads up on Miranda's condition, Andy decides before remembering that Stephen isn't there anymore. The girls? Would Cara… Oh, the girls are with their father for the weekend, so Cara is gone too. Shit. Is there anyone there? A maid? A cook? Andy begins to sweat, because there isn't anybody there this late, and she can't just leave Miranda all by herself, and shit…

The car stops at the townhouse, and Roy opens the door for Miranda. Andy jumps out too. She quickly catches up with the woman, who walks much slower than she usually does. They climb several steps to the front door, before Miranda stops. Andy stops too. She peeks at the woman, gulps, and begins to hunt for her own key to the townhouse.

When the door is open, Miranda, Andy in toe, staggers in.

"Maybe I should call a doctor?" Andy hazards, as she makes a move to help the woman out of the coat.

"No!" Miranda rasps, stepping away and wrapping the coat tighter around her middle. "I am…I am fine… Go… That's…all."

"Miranda, let me just…" Andy isn't sure what she is about to say – make you some tea, give you aspirin, put you to bed - because the woman, attitude or not, looks on a verge of collapsing, and Andy can't leave her like this in an empty house.

"I believe I said…" The woman halts in the middle of the sentence and pulls her coat even tighter around her. "Why is it so cold…in…here…"

That jolts Andy into action. She practically hauls Miranda to the couch in the study and sprints around a small room in search of something warm – a throw, a blanket, anything. But there are only books, and knick-knacks, and pictures. Andy turns to ask and swears instead – the woman is visibly shaking now.

Andy rips her own coat off, covers Miranda with it, and grabs the cell phone. "I am calling Doctor Steckelman," she states, and quickly dials the number before Miranda can object.

"Hello," the man answers almost right away despite the lateness of the hour.

"Doctor?"

As soon as the man confirms, Andy barely takes a breath before rushing ahead. "This is Andy, um, Andrea Sachs, Miranda Priestly's assistant. She is, well, she is cold, um, very cold. I think she is getting a fever. Fast. And I know she is allergic to, um, to something, and I don't know what I can give her. There is no one else here, and I don't know who else to ask…"

"Wait, wait, slow down, Andy, is it?" The doctor speaks in very calm, mild manner that is actually calming, and is nothing like Miranda's, which makes people cower.

Andy takes a deep breath, and says, "Yeah…yes."

"Good. Now, Andy, tell me where you are."

Andy looks around. "Um, study, I think." That comes out weird, even to her. Then it clicks. "Oh, no, sorry. We are at Miranda's house."

"Good. Why don't I stop by and see what is happening with Ms. Priestly."

"You'd do that?" asks Andy surprised, before smacking her forehead - of course he would, stupid.

The man on the other end chuckles and says, "You see, Andy, Ms. Priesly is a very special patient of mine."

Sure, Andy thinks, but out loud offers, "Would you like me to send a car to pick you up?"

"That would be very helpful, thank you."

Waiting for the doctor Andy resumes her search for something to cover Miranda with, because the woman can't stop shaking. At least there is no sneering and scorning, when Andy drags a huge duvet from the upstairs bedroom and tucks it all around Miranda. Not that the woman's compliancy makes Andy feel any better. She even catches herself wishing for a snip or a cold "that's all"…