Ugly Betty
And I Feel Fine

A/N: This is my first 'Ugly Betty' story. Also, I'm an Australian and we are only up to episode fifteen which is 'Brothers' so we are a far bit behind (as always) which will mean the storyline is different to what you've seen. Hope you like it. Happy reading.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I affiliated with Ugly Betty in anyway. Also don't own the lyrics to Damien Rice's 'Cannonball.' I wish I did but.

Chapter One: I Can't See What's Going On

There's still a little bit of your taste in my mouth
There's still a little bit of you laced with my doubt
It's still a little hard to say what's going on

'Cannonball.' Damien Rice.

Swish.

She stood outside the building that had offered her the very best and the very worst moments of her life.

Swish.

She stood outside the building that had started her career, ended it then revived it yet again

Swish.

She stood outside the building that had been there for as long as anyone could remember and would be there for longer still

Swish.

She stood outside the building that held the man she loved but who loved her no longer.

Swish.

She stood outside the building and watched people rolling in and out of the revolving door, wondering how they had the strength to walk in, forgetting that they didn't have as much at stake as she did, forgetting that the burden they had to carry was not so rough.

Swish.

She stood outside the building and wondered how long it would take to build up the strength she needed to enter.

And finally, swwwiiiissshhh.

With a smile pasted on and an extra ounce of confidence in her step, she laid her hand on the cool pane of glass and pushed, following the gold gilt that went around in an arch. Eventually, she was met with a cool gust of air and found that she was outside again.

'Enough, Betty,' she scolded herself. 'You can do this. You are not the person you used to be. They are not better than you.'

And then she breathed in deeply and walked briskly back into the door but this time, she found herself standing in a room made of marble. She nodded calmly to the man standing behind the desk and he nodded gravely back. Then she made her way to the elevator and entered, pressing the button and allowing the door to slam shut in front of her.

Too late to back out now.

-

"Marc, is that who I think it is?" Amanda asked, picking up a handful of cashews from the bowl on her desk and shoving them into her mouth. As she crunched them, a raven-haired beauty walked towards them looking both casual and sophisticated in a pair of wide-legged black pants, a white t-shirt and black sling-backs. Her skin was flawless, her hair was straight and was without even a touch of frizz, the braces had been removed from her teeth and had left her with a mouth of pearly, white teeth. She wasn't skinny but she was undoubtedly skinnier than she had been even after the birth of two children.

"I think it might be," Marc squeaked. "Quick, duck!"

Betty rolled her eyes as she spotted them. She walked up to the desk and put her elbows on it before leaning over and watched them cowering.

"Hey guys. You drop something?" she asked, keeping her voice calm and measured.

"Sure did but I've got it now," March chuckled nervously. He patted a non-existent item into his pocket then stood up, pulling Amanda up with him. The circular desk seemed to swim around her petite frame making it seem larger and her seem smaller but as Betty studied her harder, she saw the swell of her stomach not quite hidden under her desk.

"Amanda, you look really pregnant now," she sputtered. Amanda seemed to roll her whole face in the way that only she knew how.

"I know. Isn't it great?" she muttered sarcastically. "Soon I'll be too fat to even walk in the door. I'll be fired for sure."

"No you won't, honey," Marc gushed, going into automatic flattery mode as he had been doing for the past sixteen weeks. He got a slightly evil glint in his eye as he eyed Betty up and down. "Betty used to weigh much more and she got to stay."

"Thank you, Marc," Betty replied, rolling her eyes. She shifted her position so only her hands were touching the desk. "I didn't come here to trade insults. Is Daniel here?"

"I haven't seen him in awhile. Have you seen him, Amanda?" Marc asked.

"Marc, don't you think this whole hating me thing is a bit passé now? I have known you for seven years," Betty mused. "Is he here or not?"

"You know the way," Amanda snarled. She pointed a perfectly manicured hand down the hall. With a smile and a raise of the eyebrows, Betty turned on her heel and walked off.

"I hate her," Marc huffed.

"So do I. She's so perfect and she looks good. I just look like a bloated whale, not to mention these damn hormones," Amanda sighed. She gazed wistfully at a framed photo of her and Marc, looking fabulous and skinny. "Marc, tell me I'm still beautiful and that one day a man is going to love me…"

-

Betty made her way down the hallway. Just after she exited the hallway, she was all but jumped on by a tall but disturbingly skinny brunette.

"Hi. Who are you?" asked the lady who had accosted her.

"I'm Betty," she answered.

"Right. What are you doing? Only employees are allowed back here," the woman smirked. "Mr. Meade's rules."

"As a matter of fact, I am here to see Daniel," Betty answered. "And not that it is any of your business but I actually write a lot of the feature articles in Mode so I am an employee.

"Do you have an appointment to see Mr. Meade?" the girl asked.

"I don't have an appointment to see Mr. Meade," Betty answered with a small smile, amused that the girl didn't call him 'Daniel.'

"Then I'm afraid you aren't going to be able to see him today," the girl answered with a snotty smile.

"You must be Daniel's new assistant. What's your name?" Betty asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hannah," the girl answered.

"Well, Hannah, I don't need an appointment to see Daniel and I am not leaving until I do," she said. "So we can do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way involves me walking straight past you and into his office right now but the hard way involves a bit of work on your behalf including doing that thing where you ring his office and he pretends to be busy and asks you to make some lame excuse for him not seeing whoever is at his door. It doesn't matter which way we do it because you won't win."

"I'll do it the hard way," Hannah answered icily. Betty shrugged and fell into step behind the tall, lanky woman and followed her to the very desk that she herself used to sit at. Betty looked up through the glass and saw Daniel standing behind his desk, looking out the window. Hannah took her seat and lifted up the phone. Daniel answered without even looking up and Hannah spoke so quietly that Betty had to lean in to hear what she was saying but she could still hardly hear. She knew her name wasn't mentioned so she wasn't surprised when Hannah lifted her head and gave a triumphant smile. "He can't see you right now. He's busy."

"Hannah, I can see very clearly that he isn't doing anything," Betty protested.

"Sorry. Nothing I can do about it," Hannah shrugged.

"This is ridiculous," Betty muttered. She tugged on her pearl necklace until it was in the right position then she brushed an imaginary hair out of her face, both characteristics from her younger years that she hadn't lost. "I'm going in."

"You can't just go in!" Hannah squealed.

"Watch me," Betty replied. She left her handbag and coat on Hannah's desk, out of habit, and stalked towards his office door. When she got there, she froze with her hands on the metal doorknob.

"I can't believe you think that about me, Betty. You of all people should know me better than that," the words popped into her head.

The fight they had had happened months ago now but it had been brutal and it had the ability to find its way into her head at any given moment. She had always had a good memory, had always been able to recollect information at a moment's notice but there were some things, like The Fight, that she wished she could forget. Luck just wasn't on her side this time. It hadn't been for quite awhile. But she had to push on so she shoved the thoughts out of her head and without thinking about it, she pushed on the door and felt it give way before her.

Daniel looked up as she entered and when he saw her, his face paled.

"I told Hannah I couldn't see anyone," he offered lamely. She walked in and sat in the orange chair across from his desk.

"I told her I didn't care," Betty replied. She crossed her legs and folded her arms over her chest. "Listen, we need to talk about some things."

"Not here, Betty," he replied, his voice soft and quiet.

"Where then?" she snapped. She uncrossed her arms and leant forwards. She rested her hands on the top of the desk and banged them against the glass when she needed to make a point. "Daniel, I can't seem to get you to talk to me anywhere. I have tried calling you, I have gone to your apartment, I have followed you to functions and parties and dinners but you just won't listen to me but that's not going to cut it anymore. Do you have any idea what it is like to hear your daughters ask me when their Daddy is coming home or to have someone ask me how my husband is? I don't know when Daddy is coming home and I don't how my husband is because I haven't seen or talked to him in three months. Daniel, you haven't set foot inside our house in three months! Do you realise it has been that long?"

"Of course I realised," he yelled. "Betty, I am not ignorant."

"I know you aren't," she said quickly, knowing how soon things could blow up again. "Look, Daniel, I don't want a repeat of that night. I don't want to fight with you. I just want some answers and I'm prepared to sit here until I get them."

"I can't give you any answers, Betty," he whispered.

"That just isn't good enough, Daniel," she whispered back. "I need answers so I can decide what to do. I need to know so I can make decisions about our girls' futures and my own."

"What do you mean about your own future?" Daniel asked, his interest finally peaked.

"I'm talking about divorce," she answered calmly. Her face was serene and void of all emotion which was completely unlike Betty Meade.

"You're still wearing your rings," Daniel noted. He watched as the fingers from her right hand twisted her wedding and engagement bands around her left ring finger. His own plain gold band still rested on his own ring finger having not been removed since their wedding five years earlier. She thought it was a good sign, a reassuring sign that it was still there and he thought the same thing.

"I wouldn't dream of removing them until we decide what to do," Betty admitted. "Until we get a divorce, that's if we get a divorce, I am still your wife."

Betty was such a simple, traditional girl and Daniel had always admired that about her. They had discussed options for her last name before they had gotten married. Daniel had admitted he always assumed his wife would take his name but he understood if Betty wanted to stay Betty Suarez or even become Betty Suarez-Meade because he knew how important her family was and how much love there was between them but she had been adamant that she would do the traditional thing and become Betty Meade. It was a slightly old-fashioned sounding name that would have better suited someone his mother's age but she wore it with pride and he loved to say it, rolling the words around his tongue as often as he could.

'Did you hear that, Daniel? She called me Mrs. Meade. Betty Meade. Mrs. Daniel Meade,' she had gushed the first time someone called her by her married name, her new name. He had kissed her in delight and they had grinned the whole way through their meal.

"How did we let things get this bad?" he asked, his voice pained. He saw a flash of the same pain in his wife's eyes as she shrugged back.

"I don't know. We just did. You were never good at dealing with things and I was never good at letting go," she answered. He knew she meant letting go of the horrible things they had said. "Daniel, I just need to know where things stand. For the girls' sakes."

"I don't know where things stand," he admitted. "But I don't want a divorce. It was one fight, Betty. We should be able to get through this."

"Then come home," she pleaded with her voice, her eyes, her entire body and her heart.

"I don't think I can do that either…"

"But the girls, Daniel. Just come and see the girls. They miss you," Betty whispered, blinking back tears. She looked up and caught Daniel watching her. He nodded emphatically.

"I will come and see the girls," he agreed. "I won't be the same kind of parent that my father was."

"You are just like your father!"

But she had already accused him of that too.

-

Swish.

She stood back outside the building that had offered her the very best and the very worst moments of her life.

Swish.

She stood back outside the building that had started her career, ended it then revived it yet again.

Swish.

She stood back outside the building that had been there for as long as anyone could remember and would be there for longer still.

Swish.

She stood back outside the building that held the man she loved and who might still love her back.

Swish.

She stood back outside the building and wondered if she had made the right decision in coming. She hadn't left with any answers nor had she left with any hope. She had hardly made any progress at all, apart from getting Daniel to visit his daughters.

Swish.

She stood outside the building and wondered how long it would take for things to go back to the way they had been and if they ever would.

Swish.

She heard the door one last time before she stalked away from the building and closer to the crowded curb. A small gap opened up and she quickly swept through it and found her way to the black town car that was waiting for her. A uniformed man opened it up for her and she thanked him before sliding graciously in.

"Where to, Mrs. Meade?" the driver asked.

"Home, please," she answered, settling in to the plush caramel leather. She lowered her voice and looked out the window. "Just get me home."