Exasperated beyond belief, Daniel felt himself collapse on his bed after his first week back at Mode.

He did it because he knew that Molly would have wanted him to. Every time he woke up feeling reluctance, he almost heard her voice inside his head telling him that he shouldn't ruin his life; that that isn't what she wanted. She'd tell him that Mode needed him, and that he didn't invest everything he had in this company just to lose it.

Then he'd argue with her, which was quite funny considering that she wasn't really there.

He'd tell her she was foolish; that the only investment he ever really cared about was his time and his emotion, and if he lost that, what was a series of zeros on a check, anyway?

But then her little accomplice, Betty, would call him up and he'd hear her perky voice telling him to get up and come to the office.

He had a feeling that Molly may have been haunting Betty in the same way she haunted him. The women's voices were so incredibly in tune that he saw no other explanation.

And, like Molly, he couldn't say no to Betty, no matter how much he cringed internally.

However, Molly must have been telling Betty to keep things simple at work; to let him do his job, not press him for his feelings, and just allow him to feel normalcy again.

It was normalcy.

In a manner of speaking.

It was normalcy when he was locked in his office getting phone calls made and tons of work done. It was normalcy when he was so swamped with tasks to do that he didn't have a moment's time to think about Molly. It was normalcy when Betty brought in his lunch and sat with him discussing completely unrelated topics like Hilda's salon, her father's new job or a summary of a movie she had seen a few weeks ago so that he kept his Molly thoughts hidden.

However, the trip from the car to the office was what killed him the most.

People would stare at him in that way. A way he wasn't used to being stared at. In the past, he was just playboy Daniel Meade, and if bad things happened to him, well, he deserved them.

Now he'd gone and done it.

Now he'd gone and completely polished his once tarnished image.

Now he'd won their sympathies.

He was no longer Daniel Meade, the son of a rich guy who inherited everything and didn't deserve squat. He was no longer Daniel Meade, womanizing creep and frat boy at heart.

Now he was Daniel Meade - the brave soul who would sacrifice every penny that he had to save his company and give up his womanizing ways to watch the only person he ever truly loved become very sick and die.

They looked at him like that.

They were awkward, sympathetic looks. They'd gaze at him as though he were a child that just lost his puppy; they just looked at him as though to say, "We're sad right along with you, Daniel", although they couldn't possibly be. They didn't know a thing about him. They didn't know a thing about Molly. In fact, if she hadn't gotten sick, they would have just giggled at how Daniel Meade was dating some mousy little school teacher.

The only person in the entire world that seemed to get what he needed was Betty. He didn't know what he could do to thank her for it.

At that moment, a soft knock came from his door.

He could bet it was her again.

She'd stopped in periodically to keep him from thinking, yet again. She'd bring some ridiculous 1980s comedy or something equally asinine so that he could just lose some brain cells and forget about her.

He opened the door and - to no surprise - there she was again. Her smile was as bright as her pink, puffy coat, and she held a huge brown shopping bag in her arms.

"I come bearing ice cream!" she giddily said. Daniel tried his hardest not to smile, but he couldn't resist.

"Are you trying to put me into a diabetic coma? This is the third time this week." Betty rolled her eyes as she let herself in, still smiling.

"Please, Daniel, when you were a kid, didn't you have sweets all the time?"

"No."

"Oh," Betty softly replied, looking somewhat put out. "Really?"

"Yes, really. The nanny didn't want Alexis and I bouncing off the walls."

"Too bad," Betty replied, placing the bag on his nightstand. "Well, we're making up for it now. I have cookie dough."

"Fine," Daniel agreed, returning to his spot on the bed. "But no more after this week, please. I'll have to be at the gym for five hours."

"You're such a woman," Betty teased, taking out a plastic bowl and spoon from her bag and getting him a dish ready.

"Betty, I really appreciate this," Daniel said, watching her fill his bowl. "But you don't have to keep doing this. I know that you're just trying to make me feel better." Betty gave him the "bad liar" face he was so used to seeing at this point.

"Daniel, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Come on, Betty, I'm not stupid."

"I never said you were," Betty replied, passing him his dish and a spoon. "But, well, I don't think I'm doing anything so differently than usual. I'm going to a friend's apartment and having ice cream. What's wrong with that?"

When she simplified it in that way, it didn't seem so bad.

"Nothing, I guess," he replied, taking a spoon of ice cream and eating it. Betty was right; there was something about its sweet flavor that brought him down to age 9 again and made him feel the slightest bit better.

"Good," Betty replied, taking ice cream for herself. "Besides, ice cream with a friend means ice cream for me. I mean, I hope you don't think that this is all about you."

He couldn't hide his smile on that one. Betty was just so…Betty.

"My mistake," he said, taking another spoonful of ice cream. "So, that said, once you've had your ice cream, are you actually going to take a night for yourself for once?"

"If you must know, yes, I do have plans for later tonight, but they're not by myself."

For some reason, despite the feeling of sugar and cookie dough invading his taste buds, the prospect of Betty's plans clouded over Daniel's sugar rush. She'd be off with Matt, and they'd be surrounded by happy couples all over the world, and he'd spend the evening with an ice cream headache and Molly's ghost.

"We don't have to talk about that," Betty said, sensing his discomfort and eating her ice cream with heightened speed and concentration.

"Betty, what'd I tell you? I'm glad that you're happy with this Matt guy."

"I know, and I appreciate that, but…"

"Tell me about it," Daniel found himself saying, even though a large part of him disagreed. "I need to get back to our old routine, right?" Betty carefully shrugged and tried her best to conceal her smile. The same giddy smile that Daniel was sure was on his own face when he and Molly started seeing each other.

"He's just…he's great. He's uncomplicated, he's caring, he's funny…he's a good guy. After all of that Henry and Gio drama, it's nice to have that."

Uncomplicated.

Daniel doubted it.

He came to understand that Matt's mother was a prized, first class bitch who took one look at Betty and went into moody overdrive. The thought of anyone making Betty feel that she wasn't worth their son's time - even for a second - made Daniel furious.

But that wasn't Matt's fault, was it?

I mean, you'd think that Matt would completely alienate himself from his mother if she were so disgusting.

If Claire thought that way about Molly, Daniel'd have a few choice words for her.

But that was a completely different situation.

He had to stop projecting.

"Great," Daniel said, eating more ice cream. "I'm happy for you, Betty."

He was such a liar he couldn't stand himself.

"Well, I appreciate that, Daniel."

It became awkwardly silent as the two ate their ice cream for a minute and didn't pursue the conversation further. Daniel worried that Betty would, once again, fear talking to him about her life. He didn't want her to think that she couldn't be happy just because he was absolutely miserable.

He had to go on.

"So, then, what are your plans for tonight?"

Betty, try as she may, could not help turning red, and it was then that he knew every word out of her mouth was a complete fib.

"Well, we're just hanging out, you know. Renting a movie, probably."

Uh huh.

Daniel knew exactly what "renting a movie" probably meant.

"Well, good." Daniel replied, looking down at the bits of cookie dough still left in his dish.

"Yeah, it was some comedy that he wanted to see," Betty elaborated, trying her best to sound convincing. "It was the one with, you know, the guy who…"

Inwardly, Daniel couldn't help but laughing. Betty was so insanely bashful that she deserved the taunting she'd get.

"Wait, I think I know what you're talking about," Daniel teased. "It's the movie about the guy that has hot plans with his girlfriend, who is so shy about them that she lies and says that she's renting a movie." Betty gave him that glare of hers, and he couldn't help but laugh. "Come on, Betty, I know what 'renting a movie' means."

"Well, how do you know we're not actually renting a movie?"

"Because your face looks very much like a tomato right now. I doubt Forrest Gump merits that kind of reaction. Unless you're renting a special kind of movie." Betty playfully smacked Daniel in the arm, unable to hide her giggles.

"Daniel, stop it!"

"Come on, Betty, you know I'm only kidding."

And he was right.

He had to joke around when it came to Betty and…relationship issues. It was his only way of approaching them with her. Otherwise, it'd seem so tainted and real and…un-Betty.

"Well I'm just so glad that my personal life can cheer you up, Daniel."

"A-ha!" Daniel said, dropping his plastic spoon back in its bowl. "You were here to cheer me up!"

"Ugh!" Betty groaned, getting up. "Alright, well, Daniel, you've caught me. On that note, I do have to get back to my plans, but…" she reached into the bag where the ice cream sat and pulled some DVDs, "…I've brought you a series of comedy specials, which I think go great with the rest of this carton of ice cream."

"I appreciate it, Betty," Daniel said, feeling a flicker of disappointment at the prospect that she was leaving so soon. As much as Daniel mocked her efforts, she truly was the only person that managed to cheer him up.

Which is why he still couldn't talk to her. Not about Molly. Not yet.

"No problem. That's what friends are for, right?" Betty asked. Then, she looked down at him with such a sweet, sincere smile that Daniel felt it was finally appropriate to show her some gratitude.

He placed his bowl down and quickly placed his arms tightly around Betty, resisting the urge to let his bottled emotion flow out of him.

"Thank you," he said, feeling Betty hug him back.

"You're welcome," she replied.

And though it was just a hug of friendship and gratitude, Daniel found that he couldn't let go. Hugging Betty was one of those things that always accompanied his most redeeming moments; moments where he - playboy Daniel Meade - possessed the ability to make a girl like Betty giddy, or moments when she opened up to him and allowed him to bring her that level of comfort. Molly was the only other person who allowed Daniel to be that guy; to be the hugger or huggee, the comforter or the comfortee. He needed to feel that warmth again; that feeling that he can be close to the only living person left who completely and utterly understood, accepted, and appreciated him.

She knew that, too. She didn't let go. She waited for him to do it first.

And after what was probably a few moments, he did.

She smiled at him, the comfort she brought him unspoken but completely understood, while her comprehension of him, also unspoken, was communicated clearly without words.

"Watch the movies, Daniel. They're really funny."

"I will," Daniel replied. Betty gave a wordless goodbye, smiled at him, and let herself out.

As the door shut, one lone tear drop that begged to escape during his hug with her took a slow journey down Daniel's cheek.


The next day, as Betty was on her way to meet with Jodie from YETI for a progress meeting, she couldn't help thinking of the day before.

She'd never seen Daniel grieve in the way that he did yesterday, and, the fact was, he didn't even realize he was grieving. He didn't even know how much he said to her without speaking at all.

She wished she could just come forward with him and tell him that it's okay to be sad; that she felt the same way, too, and that she still thinks of her mother and gets upset. However, another part of her simply did not want to see Daniel sad. It hurt too much. His tight hug and the clenching of his chest as he held back his tears was absolutely heartbreaking. She just wished he would cry and let her be there for him.

Then she felt badly, because her concern was clouded over in her face and in her mind throughout the entire evening with Matt. He was so sweet; he had decorated his apartment with candles and roses, set up the entire scene and gone completely out of his way to make her happy, particularly when he knew how preoccupied she was all week. His jealousy over Daniel seemed to have faded, but his concern over whether or not this situation was reminding Betty of losing her mother still lingered.

She wished she could make Matt understand that everything reminded her of her mother - not just watching a friend lose somebody. In fact, if he wanted to show concern at the appropriate time, it should be when they walk through department stores and she caught a whiff of a perfume her mother loved, or when the weather warmed enough for Betty to step in leftover snow and remember her mother talk about how she was sure that Spring had a smell.

The issue that Matt didn't seem to get was that this wasn't about her at all; this was about her imagining that Daniel could feel the way she felt.

This happened before a bit with Daniel's father. However, the connection wasn't nearly as strong. His father's death was tragic and sudden. Meanwhile, both Betty's mother and Molly suffered and deteriorated, and that's the kind of experience that stings a person for life.

Despite her faraway stance, Matt did a very nice job of relaxing her. The best thing about their relationship was the way he could be that way - so kind, so thoughtful, so imaginative and sweet…

…and honest.

As much as Matt's jealousy over Daniel irritated her, she was glad that he was able to open up to her about it. He wasn't like Henry, who would threaten another guy behind her back and punch him without her knowing it. He discussed it with her first. That was brave and honorable, and completely mature.

And she wouldn't let him down.

She'd be a friend to Daniel - let him grieve, let him open up to her - but she would not make Matt feel ignored or overlooked. She would show him as much affection as he showed her and make him feel just as special.

He really did make her feel beautiful…


"You're beautiful, Betty Suarez. The only problem is that you think this may be a detriment, so you make yourself appear….like that."

Betty glared at Jodie in complete and utter disbelief.

This was professional advice?

This was part of her progress report?

What kind of a program was this?

"I'm sorry…I don't understand."

"Oh, I think you do," Jodie continued, grinning coyly as though she had the answers to everything. "Betty, let me ask you a question - what makes you different from your competition at Mode, or, for that matter, in the magazine industry?"

What made her different…

"Well…"

What did make her different?

"I…I feel I have a strong sense of values. I don't let diminishing morality in the industry change my stance on family or my voice as a writer."

"Interesting," Jodie said. "Go on."

What else?

"I also feel I'm a really persistent person. I don't give in when I'm told I can't do something. I really work at it. And, well, I've been told that I relate well to people, and that's helped me to get a lot of interviews, jobs and opportunities that others may not."

There was silence as it appeared that Jodie was thinking about what to say, and then turned to Betty.

"Betty, you're in an industry where people are brutally honest with you, so I'm going to be brutally honest. When I was your age, I had a lot of things in common with you. I was talented. I was, as you say, persistent. I had a passion and I wanted it badly. I see that in you. However, I had an editor that told me something that changed the way I thought. He said, 'Jode, if you want to be taken seriously in this business, know what stands out and tone it down'. Then he gave me a card for someone who could give me speech lessons and the name of a good hair gel, and I was offended, but I took his advice. Why? Because I didn't want to be known as the girl with the annoying voice or the frizzy hair - I wanted people to pay attention to my talents. By overlooking things I thought were superficial, I was ironically causing people to have a more superficial stance on me than before."

"Okay," Betty replied. "So you're saying…"

"Betty, I think that you know and I know what people pay attention to the first time they see you."

She did, but she didn't want to admit it.

"What?"

"You make yourself stand out. These patterns and colors and…bangs. The braces you can't really help, but, truly, Betty, as a professional in this field, I have to be honest by saying that they communicate a message. They show that you identify yourself with an image that's so unique and different that you do not want to be a part of the larger world or industry. You're trying to transcend it."

"But…" Betty bit her lip in an attempt to stop her tears from falling. This was her hero - her idol in the print world - telling her to conform just like everyone else. "With all due respect, I don't feel that way at all. This is just…it's the way that I dress. Aren't there things that are more important than what a person looks like?"

"Yes. Which is why it shouldn't be so problematic for you to let go of your pride, pick a solid color and go with it. It's a subtle change, Betty. Nobody's asking you to abandon your values or your world beliefs. For that matter, nobody's asking you to become a fashion model. I just think it would be to your benefit in this industry to start taking cues from the people around you and dress a little more professionally. Appearance is important."

Betty looked down, again trying hard not to break down in front of Jodie. Not even Jodie - who she identified with in so many ways - sympathized with her.

"Betty, you have a lot of promise," Jodie continued. "I see you as a shining star in this industry. The only problem is, you're confining yourself with your attitude. You won't let go of certain preconceived notions. You think changing your wardrobe is demeaning. You think sports and fashion are beneath you. You think making changes to yourself are selling out. They're not, Betty. It's compromise. You can help the magazine industry understand your viewpoints and see things more from a family-oriented, wholesome perspective, but nobody listens to a person who judges and rejects them. You should understand that. You and I, Betty Suarez, we're from the same mold. We think we're the ones being bullied and picked on when, in truth, we're the ones alienating everyone else."

"So…okay," Betty replied, her voice getting a little shaky, "What do you suggest that I do?"

"Well, for starters, I suggest that you find someone you can trust to give you some advice on how to make subtle changes to your professional attire. When you're at home, you can go to town choosing whichever clothes you'd like, but if you want to be an editor, you're going to have to make some different choices. Then I suggest that every time you hear that voice in your head telling you that one magazine topic or another is beneath you, remember one thing - this is your job. This is another golden opportunity for you to take something with which you've never identified and make it relatable to the masses. Your perspective can't be that way unless you allow yourself to relate to the masses, both on the outside and on the inside"

Betty swallowed a lump in her throat, feeling more lost, alienated and humiliated than she'd felt in a while. She'd never heard this advice from anyone before. Daniel always thought the world of her just the way that she was. She'd managed to get the attention of Matt, who she valued beyond anything. Could this just be the bitter advice of a woman who sacrificed herself for her company?

Nevertheless, she'd have to consider it. This was her future.

"Okay," Betty replied. "I'll…I'll look into it. I'll find someone who can help me."

"Good," Jodie said a little more softly. "Betty, look at me for a minute."

Betty glanced into Jodie's face, which looked strong and hard as always, but also managed to look, for the first time, sympathetic.

"I stand by what I said when I started this meeting, Betty. You are a beautiful person, inside and out. The only thing is, you seem afraid to show it. You hide it underneath layers and colors and patterns. Set it free. There's nothing wrong with conforming just a little bit. It doesn't make you a sell out, and it certainly does not take an ounce away from your character."

Betty nodded.

More than anything, she wanted to run out of this room, visit Daniel's apartment, finish his ice cream and hug him again. He'd tell her that Jodie was a complete idiot; that she was just on a menopausal mood swing.

Or Matt. He'd tell her he liked her just the way she was and that she'd be absolutely foolish to listen to Jodie…


"Really? Jodie said that?"

"Yeah, can you believe it?" Betty said, taking a long sip of her apple martini as she vented to Matt at their bar. "I mean, of all the things she could have talked about, she talked about my clothes? And this is supposed to be a professional?"

"Well, I mean, the way she said it, it doesn't seem so bad." Betty dropped her martini down with a clank.

"What do you mean, it doesn't seem so bad?" Betty asked. "Matt, she was a few words away from telling me I'm a hideous dog and that if I don't make myself pretty I'll never get a job!"

"Betty, just calm down. First of all, it doesn't sound to me like she was calling you hideous at all. In fact, didn't you say she called you beautiful?"

"Yeah," Betty bitterly replied, taking another long sip. "That's what everyone tells the ugly girl right before they say, 'No, really, I was kidding - you're ugly'."

"Alright, alright, I understand why you're upset, but just take what she was saying into consideration. She's a professional; she's been through this before. Maybe she doesn't think you're ugly. In fact, I know she doesn't think you're ugly, because you're just too cute to be ugly."

"Matt," Betty said, feeling herself smile in spite of herself. "Flattery will get you nowhere here."

"It's not flattery, Betty, it's true. You are cute. It's not a matter of being pretty or not, it's a matter of appropriate dress, that's all."

"You don't think I dress appropriately?"

"Well, Betty, for what we do, I don't have a dress code. In fact," he leaned over and whispered in her ear. "For lots of what we do, we don't have dress. Period."

"Stop," Betty said, feeling herself blush. "Matt, seriously, though, if you ran a magazine, would you think I dressed inappropriately?"

"Betty, you know that I can't answer that question because my view of you is completely biased. That's totally unfair."

"Seriously, Matt. Hypothetically, let's say that you were a magazine editor, you saw me and you had no romantic interest in me at all. Would you hire me?"

Matt placed down his beer, gave Betty a serious look.

"I'm not answering these questions, Betty, because I see it as impossible - not even hypothetical - that I could see you and have no romantic interest at all. But I will tell you as objectively as I can that maybe other people see that you dress differently and think of it as exactly what Jodie said - explicit nonconformity. They don't see it as ugliness, but they see it as a desire to stand out."

"That's not what it is!" Betty insisted, feeling her eyes start to get wet.

"Betty, I know that. You know that. But we're in a competitive industry with people who take their jobs very seriously and I guess that Jodie's point was that they may not see that. I mean, we're starting off here. Once your foot is in the door, that world is your oyster, but we have to make sacrifices as the low man on the totem pole, you know what I'm saying?"

Betty glanced at him, not sure whether she should be angry, hurt or just plain confused. She'd felt confident in herself for years; confident enough to ignore catty comments and unsolicited advice from everyone. How could she have been wrong about that the whole time?

Yet, all that her extreme confidence had gotten her was year after year of being Daniel Meade's assistant and relationships that ended before they started.

Here she had two real opportunities - she had YETI and a man who seemed to truly care for her - both telling her that this confidence may be unfounded, at least in regard to her dress.

She couldn't help but wondering if she should listen to them, or slam her martini down and run to Daniel's apartment to see if he needed any papers to be filed. He wouldn't ask her to buy a new wardrobe for that.

But something in Matt's honesty and sincerity stopped her from doing that.

"You know that I like you just the way you are, right?" Matt said.

"Great. Can I be the editor-in-chief of your pretend magazine?" Betty asked, sipping her martini.

"Seriously, Betty," Matt said, taking her hand away from her drink and holding it. "This is business. As a couple involved in the same career path, I want to feel that I can tell you the truth work-wise without you thinking that I feel differently about you as my girlfriend."

"No, no, I know," Betty said, feeling a tear fall from her face. Matt lifted up his hand and wiped it away.

"Wipe that sad face off, Suarez," he said with a smile. "Jodie wouldn't have given you this advice if she didn't think you were such a promising asset to the field. She wants you to succeed. So do I."

He was right.

It killed Betty to admit it, but he was absolutely, entirely and completely right.

She had to do this - let go of her pride and show the media industry that she was flexible and willing to change. She had to win Matt's respect - not just as a girlfriend, but as a person overall and a colleague in his field.

"You're right," Betty admitted. "I'm sorry I'm like this. I shouldn't be so…sensitive, but…"

"You're human," Matt said. "Although sometimes with the responsibility that you take on, I think you're more of a superhuman type."

"Matt, c'mon…"

"Seriously, Betty, despite what you may feel about yourself after this meeting, you're just so wonderful and kind and…just really a beautiful person…"

"On the inside…"

"Overall," Matt corrected. "Cut that out. No pity parties. I won't have the girl I'm falling in love with feeling so sad."

Suddenly, the thoughts of her wardrobe and self-pity and everything else vanished.

Did he just say what she thought he said?

"The girl you're…"

"I'm falling in love with you," Matt said, smiling sincerely at her. "There, I said it. Man, that feels better. I've been trying to find the right time to tell you that for days…"

"You've been in love with me for days?" Betty asked, sort of taken. She wasn't sure if she was in love with Matt yet, and she didn't want to tell him she was out of sheer obligation.

"Weeks, actually," Matt continued. "And, you know what, there's no pressure. You don't have to be in love with me back, but as long as we're being totally open, that's how I feel."

Glancing at Matt's face, considering his sweetness and sincerity, Betty couldn't help but feel for a moment that maybe she was falling in love with him, too. But that may have just been the heat of the moment, so she took his hand and smiled.

"Matt, I'm so happy you feel that way. I just…I mean, I really like you a lot, and I really enjoy the time we spend together, but I just want to be careful about…"

"It's okay," Matt said, still smiling. "As long as I haven't freaked you out."

"No, no!" Betty said, feeling guilty he'd even consider that. "Matt, I'm so glad you feel that way. I'm really, really lucky to have you."

"Good," Matt said, leaning in to give her a kiss. She kissed him back, then looked at her martini and back at him.

"What do you say we leave our drinks here and get back to one of those…non-dress code activities."

"Thought you'd never ask."