Hello, dear friends:
This came to me last night when I first heard about Ugly Betty's cancellation. To say that I am disappointed is an understatement, but I suppose we knew this day would come.
I wrote this story, featuring all the main characters, because I felt that this could be the thing that unites us-all of us. Every shipper out there. This isn't how I envision the show will end, nor do I want to think about that. Rather, this is something that I want everyone to be able to read, no matter who their favorite character is, and say "That was sweet".
It's almost ironic that the announcement of Ugly Betty's cancellation came exactly one week after the "Blackout!" episode. I know that the Detty shippers, and perhaps others, had sworn not to watch so that their ratings wouldn't be counted. I always thought that was foolish, and not to say selfish. I remember saying to dardeile that if nobody watches, and the ratings continue to plummet, we'll lose our show and then nobody wins. So here we are. Maybe the higher powers are trying to teach us a lesson. The fight was always stupid, but now it's even stupider-because we all lost in the end. Win the battle, lose the war, right? The thing with not wanting your ratings to be counted, because you're upset about the togetherness of characters other than your favorites, is that when a show is canceled, everyone is out of a job. The people who work behind the scenes (props, lighting, stylists, writers, etc.) and the actors who put so much effort into portraying their parts see everything taken away because of what? More than feeling sorry for ourselves, we should feel sorry for everyone who was been a part of this show, loved and nurtured it, and now has to watch it die. Vanessa Williams said once that Wilhelmina was her favorite of all the characters she'd ever portrayed. I wonder how she feels today.
When you look at it that way, the wars between ships seems completely idiotic. People shouldn't hate each other, or Silvio Horta, because of the direction that made up TV characters go in. They're pretend people-it's not real. When you think of all the horrible things that are happening in the world, hating someone's guts over something as stupid as their choice of characters should make you realize how senseless it is. Hate is pointless, period, no matter what it's about.
To all my faithful Danimina readers: Don't worry, this isn't my last fanfiction. I plan to keep on hoping Daniel and Willie can end up together, and I plan to continue writing about them. Thank-you for always taking the time to read and give me feedback; it means everything to me.
With that said, and I know I've said a lot, I hope that everyone will read this and take it to heart, maybe even spread the word to other ships, since this effects everyone. Extend the Olive Branch to those who've bad-mouthed us, and let the chips fall where they may.
Lastly to everyone who put their time into making Ugly Betty happen: I know you'll never see this (probably) but I've loved every minute of the show. I started watching at the beginning of Season 3 and fell in love right away. Thanks for the comfort.
-Ashley
*****
Daniel stood staring out of the window. His office was empty; everything at Mode was empty. It was official-Mode was shutting down for good. His family's empire had seen its last sunrise.
He downed the glass of brandy in his hand, the other hand shoved into the pocket of his pants as he stood stoically at the window, watching the city fly by below him. The night always had a strange effect on New York City; all the lights turned everything into a sort of carnival, everyone moving to and fro in a complete blur. He breathed in, a gentle sigh mixed with the taste of hard liquor.
"Daniel." There was a soft rapping on the door as an all-too familiar voice said his name. He turned slowly to face the sound of stilettos clacking against marble floor.
"Hey, Willie" he said, unable to muster even a small smile; he was too upset to bother with social formalities, and he knew she understood. She slowly walked to where he was standing, both of them looking out at the world.
"Watching the 'little people'?" she asked, putting emphasis on the last two words in an attempt to lighten the heaviness that surrounded them.
He chuckled. "Yeah; it's weird being up here. I spent so many hours looking down from this very window, feeling like the most important thing in the city because I had a nice office in a skyscraper. You always think everyone's going to stop down there when stuff like this happens, when a magazine shuts down and we lose the thing that made us who we are. I guess because it was always about what they saw, about our public image…"
Wilhelmina let out a quick, sharp laugh. "Nobody gives a damn about our public image, Daniel. That's why we need one; it's something for everyone to look at so they'll remember who we are while we're still relevant."
They stood, shoulder to shoulder, trying to make sense of what was happening around them.
* * * * *
Marc shuffled his feet toward Amanda's desk, looking down at the floor, pouting to himself.
"Hey, Marc" she said softly, leaning across the counter and stretching out her arms toward him. He took her hands and fiddled with her fingers.
"Hey…" he answered quietly, not meeting her eyes.
"Don't be so depressed, Marc. I just finished touching up my face, and if you make me cry I won't be pretty anymore" she pouted, trying to make him smile.
He shook his head, glancing up at her. "Not this time, Amanda. That's not gonna work."
Her smile slowly faded as she looked at his curly hair, his features drawn into a sullen expression. "You're gonna do great stuff, Marc, it's not the end of the world. You can go on to other magazines, you can-"
"That's not what I want, Amanda. If I wanted another magazine, I would've gone there. I want this! I want to be groveling at Willie's feet every morning before the sun wakes up; I want to be flying like a My Little Pony on helium down the hallways balancing her coffee in one hand and her paperwork in the other; I want to wear ascots, and little vests, and shiny shoes with tassels that make me feel important. Hell, I even want to keep finding those creepy anonymous notes on my lunch that say I'm still the cutest little boy that ever flounced down these halls!"
Amanda looked up at Marc and rubbed his hands with her thumbs. "I guess that's the point, sweetie" she said softly.
"What do you mean?" he asked, looking at her curiously.
"You're not the cutest little boy anymore-you're all grown up. You're supposed to spread your feathers and fly."
Marc bit his bottom lip. "I guess you are too, huh?"
Amanda sighed dejectedly. "Yeah to where? Another front desk position?" she asked sarcastically.
"No," Marc answered quietly, "you're supposed to go wherever I go."
Amanda pressed her lips together, fighting back tears as she pulled him close to her, wrapping her arms around his waist.
"I'll always go where you go, Marc" she whispered, leaning her head on his chest.
"I know" he said softly.
* * * * *
Betty sat the couch, surrounded by Hilda, Papi, and Justin. "I just can't believe it" she said quietly, dabbing her eyes with yet another tissue.
"I know, mija, I don't think anyone can right now" Papi answered, patting her head and smoothing her hair.
"You don't gotta be all sad about this Betty. This means new opportunities for you" Hilda said, rubbing her knee.
"I know; I thought that was what I wanted. 'Save the World' Betty to the rescue!" she said quietly, staring at her feet.
"Isn't that what you still want?" Papi asked.
"It is…but…I feel like I wasted all my time at Mode. Like I spent so much time wanting something else instead of taking in what was right in front of me. The new friends, the scary surroundings, the city life-all that just flew by me!"
"But now you can set your sights on something different, something more you" Hilda said, as Justin nodded in agreement.
"But Mode was me too-just a different part of me. And now it's a part that I can't have back" she said as a tear rolled down her cheek.
"You know, mija, sometimes the best way to appreciate something is to remember it forever for what it was to you at that point in your life. Don't fight what you had there with the experiences you wish you had there; take what you remember now, all the funny times, the laughing…and even all the hard times and put it all right here" Papi said, pointing to his heart. "When you die, that's all that will matter to you-the stuff you put in there."
Betty smiled and nodded, knowing what he was trying to tell her. "Thanks, Papi. I just need to cry about it for a little, but I promised myself I wouldn't forget this. I'm gonna take every single ounce of Mode and let it shape who I become next" she said, smiling.
"Would that by any chance be someone whose job offers amazing perks like free Gucci?" Justin asked hopefully. Betty whacked him on the arm as they pulled each other close and hugged.
* * * * *
Claire stood up from her seat at her desk, sucking in a tight breath and holding back tears. "I am not going to cry about this" she thought resolutely. She looked down at the mahogany table, its surface shiny and immaculate, revealing the sad eyes she prayed she wouldn't see. She pressed her lips together and averted her eyes, walking toward the fireplace in her living room. She looked up at the photographs that she'd put out on display. Some of her, some of her with Daniel and Alexis, others of her and Bradford together. She didn't know why she'd stuck them up there on this night, of all nights. It just seemed fitting.
"Our family legacy" she thought as she looked proudly at her two children. "Doesn't matter that the magazine's done. They'll find another path in life and make their own legacy, a new one for the Meade family. They'll be able to freely express themselves…" she let the thoughts trail off as the tears slowly fell. "Damn it, Claire, you told yourself you wouldn't cry" she said aloud to no one, wiping her face with the back of her hand. She felt foolish for crying.
She sat down in an overstuffed leather armchair, watching the fire crackle and blaze, as though it too were struggling to stay as it was, hot and powerful. "I know how you feel," she said to the flames, which seemed to dip toward her in sympathetic response, "this sure as hell sucks." They fluttered gently as if attempting to return the sentiment.
"Goodbye, Mode" she said quietly, leaning her head back against the chair and slowly drifting off to sleep.
* * * * *
"Daniel?"
He turned his head to Wilhelmina in surprise. "Yeah?"
She paused, and for a moment he wondered if he'd simply dreamed that she'd said anything.
"Thank-you" she said finally, not meeting his gaze.
"For what?" he asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. "First she's quiet for five minutes, and then out of nowhere…" he thought to himself.
She swallowed, as though the words she was preparing to say were too much, even for her. "You've always been okay, you know that?"
He stared back at her in disbelief. "I have?"
"We never exactly…always saw eye to eye. I spent a lot of time in my office with just that thin piece of wall between us plotting your demise."
"Ditto" he said, gently nudging her arm to let her know he was kidding.
She surprised him by looking at him and actually smiling, something he'd only seen her do a very small number of times. He was almost shocked when she kept talking.
"I deserved a lot worse than I got from you" she said quietly, fixing her steady gaze on him.
"So did I, stealing your job and all, some fancy ass rich kid with a chip on his shoulder" he replied honestly.
She broke eye contact and returned her eyes to the street below.
"It's all water under the bridge, Wilhelmina" he said quietly, and she looked back at him in surprise. "It was just a stupid job all along" he stated matter-of-factly.
"Too bad tomorrow it won't mean a damn thing" she said, smiling sadly.
He put down the glass he'd been holding and offered her his arm. "Let's get out of here."
She stared at him for a moment, and he wondered if maybe she was preparing to cut it off. Finally, she gently placed her hand around it and he led her toward the elevator.
"Is this your way of trying to bury the hatchet, Daniel?" she asked as they waited for the elevator doors to open.
He laughed quietly, considering her question. "Only if you're willing to."
She looked up at him and smirked. "Does this mean I have to stop picking on you?"
He smirked back. "Absolutely not; after all, isn't that what feeds the sexual tension between us?"
The doors slid open and she stepped inside, turning to face him. "Well come on, Daniel….unless you're afraid to end up in here again" she said, a provocative smile dancing on her lips.
He looked at her for a second before stepping inside and facing her, bending his head toward hers as he said quietly, "Real men aren't afraid of anything, Willie."
The Mode office was completely silent, except for the tinkling of laughter as the elevator descended for the last time.