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Everything after that moment seemed to move in slow motion. The private plane ride for the family members of the victims seemed to take forever. MODE London had generously provided their jet, since chartering the Meade jet would have taken too long.
While still in mid-air news was received that all passengers and the pilot had been found in the East River. Speculation of the crash was that faulty landing gear was involved. However, details and information on how critical any of the victims were was yet to be determined. He knew Betty's family was standing by, along with his mom, Marc, and even Wilhelmina.
Daniel found some relief in knowing they were all accounted for. But imagining every complication that could have occurred was too much. That was his wife and his unborn child – not to mention his sister-in-law and unborn niece or nephew. And he knew the others, too – even went to parties or had lunch with them.
He found some comfort in the fact that no one else on the plane was handling the situation well, either. Actually, he appeared to be one of the calmer ones even though he was far from it on the inside. He couldn't pace on the plane like he normally would if he were on the ground in this type of situation. So instead, he nervously bounced his knee up and down and tapped his fingers to a random beat in his head. Only Tyler told him to 'shut the hell up and stop acting like a god damned human beat box'. Oddly, it was the first time he'd felt like Tyler truly was his brother. Snark really did run on his mother's side, apparently.
It was a good thing Daniel was feeling closer to Tyler, because not long after Tyler snapped at him, he began searching the plane for a drink. He definitely had to get into big brother mode for that.
"Get the hell off me, Daniel – I need this!" Tyler yelled while they were in the kitchen.
"Bullshit!" Daniel exclaimed, grabbing the tiny bottle of liquor out of his hands and pouring it down the sink. He proceeded to do the same with all of the remaining alcohol. "You've been sober for almost a year now. You've got a wife and a kid on the way – don't screw that up with this shit! It's not worth it!"
"How the hell would you know?!" he snapped.
"Because I've been there before – not with alcohol, but with drugs. Sex, too. Actually the pills were to get over the sex and that only led to almost killing Alexis and me," Daniel revealed.
"What?!" Tyler asked, shocked.
"It was a car accident . . . Alexis was driving me in Dad's car to a rehab facility . . . I only had some cuts and bruises and a broken leg, but Alexis was in a coma. I could barely even look at her for the longest time. I stared at her through the ICU window, but I never was able to bring myself to go in. Betty finally convinced me to . . . to talk to her . . . she said it helped. When Alexis finally woke up she didn't even recognize herself. She still thought she was Alex. She spent hours just squeezing her boobs; it's hilarious now, but at the time it was depressing. Her mind had taken her back to a time when we were all happier – mom and dad were still together. Mom wasn't in jail, and Dad wasn't about to marry Wilhelmina. And even though the accident made my dad wake the hell up and accept his child for who he/she was, I would do anything to take back what happened," Daniel confessed. "I couldn't even tell her it was my fault it at first. When I finally did, I was surprised she forgave me."
"Wow . . . nobody ever told me about that. It must've been awful. I know I still feel guilty for shooting Wilhelmina," he said.
"Of course, she ended up telling me later that before the accident she had hired a hit man to kill our dad. Apparently he cut the brakes his car. But the point is it was still my fault in a way. You can't let your addiction take over, Tyler. It not only affects you, it affects everyone around you – sometimes in ways you can't ever change," he told his younger brother.
"I get it," Tyler agreed, slumping down on the floor. "I'm just so messed up right now. I can't get these horrible pictures out of my head of Amanda . . . and Betty . . . and the others – struggling to survive for themselves and for the lives of our unborn children. What if they don't make it?"
Daniel sat down and put his arm around him.
"Hey, I know our girls. They're fighters – believe me. With all the books she reads Betty probably found a way to drag everyone out of the plane to swim or float to safety, with Amanda right behind her desperate to rescue their clothes, too," Daniel laughed until he began to cry.
Tyler was right along with him.
"Now I need a drink," Daniel joked as he wiped the tears from his eyes and got two cans out of the fridge. "Want one?"
Then he saw the look of shock and confusion on his brother's face.
"It's gingerale. I need something to settle my stomach," he clarified.
"Oh. Yeah, sure," Tyler took the can and breathed a sigh of relief. "So what now?"
"We drink and we wait," Daniel replied, unsure if he could withstand the latter much longer.
"You got anymore family stories to tell?" Tyler asked. "Wait, I've wanted to know the truth about this ever since Amanda told me. Did you really light yourself on fire for Betty?"
"Not intentionally, but yeah," Daniel answered, sheepishly. "I was trying to burn her release form for her contract and things got out of hand. Instead of looking cool, I looked like a complete jackass. Even after that, I was still in denial about being in love with her until Mom practically hit me over the head with it."
"She definitely doesn't sugarcoat things, does she?" he laughed.
"Nope. She calls you on your shit every time," Daniel smiled. "You'll get used to it."
"So what was it like when you and Alexis were younger and she was your brother?" Tyler wondered.
"Pretty much the same as we are now – competitive, constantly arguing. But when things got rough, we stuck by each other," he said. "That reminds me, I need to call her and DJ when we find out more about Betty and Amanda."
"You'd think we'd know something by now," Tyler sighed.
Daniel nodded in agreement, hoping for the best.
"Daniel?" Lindsay pulled back the curtain to the kitchen. "Sorry to bother, but there appears to be more news on the crash."
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Daniel sat in Betty's ICU room completely overwhelmed. She and the baby had suffered from hypothermia, a concussion, a dislocated shoulder, and some minor cuts and bruises. The doctors had been able to bring her body temperature up in time. She was stable; however, she still hadn't regained consciousness yet.
Amanda and her baby were doing alright. She and the others had also suffered from hypothermia and various breaks. Hers was a fractured tibia which had required extensive surgery. But everyone was conscious and well, considering.
"Hey, B. You know, you were the one who told me that talking to coma patients helped, so here I am . . . Why the hell did this have to happen to us?" he took her hand in his and kissed it. "Things were going so perfect . . . was that it? All our good luck had to run out sometime, right?"
All Daniel could hear was the hissing of the ventilator and the beeping of the heart monitors for both her and the baby.
"You need to wake up, baby. We've got a little one just waiting to be born. I need you. I can't live without you, Betty. I'll do anything, just please wake up for me. I love you so much."
Still no response. He lovingly kissed her forehead and moved over to her stomach, beginning to talk to their unborn child.
"You have to hold on little guy . . . hey, I'll even admit you could be a girl if your mom would wake up. She's a force of sunshine to be reckoned with; just like I'm sure you will be, too. You both are so strong and I'm so proud of you. I can't wait to hold you and teach you everything I know . . . which isn't a whole lot, compared to your mom. But I do know how to play basketball and lots of other sports. I'll take you to see some games, and teach you how to ride a bike. Or if you're into Broadway shows and fashion, I know a lot about that, too – well the fashion at least. You might have to talk to your cousin, Justin, about Broadway. But no matter what, I promise I'll always be there for you and support you for who you are," he kissed her stomach.
"You have nothing to be afraid of, sweetheart. You're nothing like Bradford when it comes to being a father," Claire stepped into the room. "DJ would have been lucky to have been raised by you. And you are a wonderful uncle to your nephews."
"Mom!" Daniel greeted her with a hug. "I thought you'd gone home?"
"And miss checking up on my family?" she said. "How is she?"
"No change. But they didn't let me in here until a few hours ago, so . . ." he responded. "Have you seen Amanda?"
"Yes, she's recovering nicely – already calling the nurses her 'bitches'. Thankfully, Tyler's trying to blame the medication for causing her attitude. I'm so glad she and the baby are alright, though. She keeps asking to see Betty, but the doctor doesn't believe she should be moving around for a few more days," Claire answered. "Even then, only in a wheelchair."
"Maybe we can set something up on Skype. I think hearing her voice could help them both," Daniel suggested.
"I agree . . . I see you and Tyler aren't mortal enemies anymore," she observed.
"Mom, you're exaggerating. We've been civil with each other for a while now. But, yeah, I'll admit that the accident brought us closer. We had a long talk on the plane," Daniel confessed.
"I'm so proud of you both. You need your family in times like these," Claire hugged her son. "Alexis and DJ will be here this weekend. They're taking our jet and Christina will be coming with them."
"Good," he said. "Maybe by then, Betty will be awake and able to run interference between me and Alex."
Claire sighed and rolled her eyes.
"I never understood why you two couldn't get along. And Daniel, darling, you realize there's a chance -" she began.
"Don't say it – don't even think it! She will wake up. She'll be fine. She has to be!" he exclaimed, adamantly, as his voice cracked. He tried not to cry, but the tears came streaming down his face beyond his control.
Claire held her son tight and rubbed his back.
"Shhh . . . It's okay, sweetheart. We're going to fight this, I promise," she told him. "Why don't you go get some coffee and something to eat? I'll stay with her."
Daniel let go and nodded. Maybe it would be good to take a break. He hadn't eaten in hours and it would be a good distraction. As he went out the door he ran into Ignacio.
"Hey, Daniel," he said. "I thought you might be hungry, so I made you some fajitas."
"Wow, thanks! You didn't have to do that. You're going through a lot right now, too," Daniel said.
"When things go wrong, I cook. It's a good stress reliever. Why don't we go to the cafeteria?" his father-in-law suggested.
"Okay," he agreed.
"How are you doing, Mijo?" he asked along the way.
"I'm okay, I guess," he politely responded.
"Daniel, you don't have to hide your feelings. You're part of my family. I can tell you are worried about my daughter simply by looking at you," Ignacio told him.
"Thank you . . . I am worried. I can't sleep . . . what if she doesn't wake up? What if we lose them? I just don't know how to stop thinking those thoughts. If Betty were awake, she'd be giving me one of her pep talks right now, telling me to stay positive in that cute, perky voice of hers," he smiled, sitting down at a table.
"Maybe you should listen to that voice then? Think about what Betty would do and it might help you make it through," Ignacio advised, handing him the containers of food. "I'd suggest cooking, but you two still need a few more lessons before you're ready to even make a simple quesadilla."
Daniel laughed and took a bite of his fajita.
"You know, after you came and taught us some things, Betty attempted to make dinner for me. You should've seen her. She was running around, being all secretive, telling me not to peek and not to help her. She actually shoved me out the door at one point and told me to come back in an hour . . ." Daniel mused. "When I came back, the spaghetti was in one big charred clump, the sauce was burned, the oven was on fire, and Betty's hair was singed."
"Ay, dios mio!" Ignacio chuckled.
"I vowed never to leave her alone in the kitchen again!" Daniel laughed. "God, I miss her! I mean I know she's still here, but she's not. I need to hear her voice – even if it's yelling at me to stop leaving empty cartons of milk in the fridge or to put down the toilet seat."
"I know what you mean. I miss her calling me to remind me to take my medicine or to put down my cup of coffee," Ignacio shook his head. "It'll be okay, Mijo. My Betty's a fighter, just like her mother. Rosa never gave up. And we can't either."
Daniel nodded, finishing his last bite of food.
"Come on, I promised Amanda I would bring her some of my empanadas," Ignacio said, getting up from the table.
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When he got back, he noticed his mother was gone and Marc was with Betty instead. He sat outside to give them some privacy. Marc was such a pain in the ass sometimes. He and Betty had a good friendship, though - more so now that she was no longer a threat to his career. But that was Marc for you.
"You really know how to make an entrance, don't you? Plane crash, coma while carrying Baby Bettyzilla . . . How dare you upstage me?! No, seriously. Listen, my little Chimichanga. You have got to wake up! I can't take it anymore. You, Mandi, Baby Meade, Baby Hartley – it's too much! I feel like I'm stuck in one of those telenovelas your dad watches. FYI, in case you haven't been paying attention, Carlos is slipping it to Juan, while still engaged to Marisol, and Marisol still hasn't told her sister that she's really her brother. Oh and you'll never believe this! Julio isn't really a priest – he's a prostitute hiding from la policia. Ay dios mio! You've got me habla españoling! Do you see what I go through for you? When you get out of here you owe me big time, Suarez! Like Pinkberry and a spa day!"
He went over and touched Betty's belly.
"Hey, Baby Gaga, It's your Uncle Marc. There are so many people who can't wait to meet you and rescue you from the fashion disaster your mom used to be. Prada knows she'll make those same mistakes with you if we don't stop her. Meantime, you have got to be strong and fight like your Mexican Mama. We love you both," Marc sniffled and wiped tears from his eyes. He kissed Betty's cheek. "I'll be back tomorrow with your Papi's enchiladas, my Chubby Chalupa. The smell of anything greasy, spicy, and full of lard usually gets your attention. It's like coaxing Mandi with a Gucci bag. Ta!"
Marc came out of her room and saw Daniel.
"Hey, any change?" Daniel asked.
"Nada. I tried drama, I tried insults, I tried guilt, I tried thoughts of food, I even tried – ulchh . . . feelings. Nothing!" Marc sighed.
"Thanks for being here, Marc. You're a good friend," Daniel told him.
Marc humbly smiled.
"I'll stop by tomorrow. Hilda mentioned something about setting up a schedule for all of us to go in shifts so she and Mandi won't ever be like Celine Dion," Marc said.
"That's a good idea. I'm grateful to all of you for being there for us," Daniel said.
"Pssh! Don't go getting all Whitney on me. I can only take so many emotions in one day," he said when his phone rang. "It's Troy – gotta go."
Daniel nodded and went back into Betty's room.
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It had been three weeks since the accident. The investigation had confirmed suspicions of faulty landing gear. The mechanism that expanded the wheels had gotten stuck and therefore the pilot felt he had to circle and attempt to gently land in the river to avoid a bigger impact. Apparently whoever did the final inspection before take-off just assumed since it was a brand new jet that everything was in good condition. Lindsay was prepared to sue all who were responsible and encouraged everyone to follow suit.
Daniel wanted to kill the irresponsible bastard and sue the hell out of him, but he knew it wouldn't help bring Betty back to him and money wasn't an issue for him. But if Lindsay needed a team effort to win, then he was with him.
Fashion Buzz was at the hospital every few days since the accident with a Betty & Baby Watch segment. Suzuki was surprisingly respectful of their privacy and didn't spend too long or get too personal. He and his family even sent over a gift basket and flowers.
Gio and his wife sent a basket of sour dough bread, cured meat, and cheeses, along with some flowers.
Betty's room was filled with flowers, balloons, and gift baskets from everyone they knew who had heard of the accident – even people who had seen the segments on Fashion TV. Daniel appreciated their thoughtfulness, he only wished Betty was able to see how loved she was.
Sadly there wasn't much change in her condition, other than she was able to breathe on her own again - which was a good sign. Fortunately the baby was still doing well. Amanda was out of the hospital, but still in a wheelchair. She, Marc, Justin, and Hilda gathered in Betty's room on a weekly basis in order to give her the spa treatment. They were in there, currently.
"You know, maybe if I trash her 'stache, she'll wake up?" Marc pondered, putting wax on Betty's upper lip, sticking the paper down firmly and finally ripping it off. "Ouch! That even hurt me! Okay, Hilda, you've got jungle duty – if a bikini wax and getting rid of those gorilla legs doesn't wake her, I don't know what will!"
"Unh uh! I am not goin' there! There are some things a woman has to decide for herself!" Hilda refused. "I will wax her legs when I'm finished with her manicure, though."
"I'll do it! I'm not afraid to make Betty's bush look beautiful," Amanda volunteered, reaching for the sheets.
"Get outta there!" Hilda slapped her hand away. "Help me with her nails."
"Stay away from the fire engine red, Mom! Aunt Betty's not a hooker or looking for a guy in Queens," Justin warned as he finished plucking her eyebrows and applied an avocado mask to his aunt's face.
Hilda rolled her eyes and ignored him.
"Ooh! I know what'll shake the Bride of Frankenstein – didn't you guys tell me she has ticklish feet?" Marc said and began to use the pomace stone on her foot. "Tickle, tickle . . . Nothing! Hey, why am I getting stuck with her huge hairy toes again anyway? That first week when she had those bear claws almost killed me!"
"Hey, my sista is almost nine months pregnant, dumbass! She can't bend ovah," Hilda defended.
"Yeah, but this is Betty - since when could she ever bend over?" Amanda snorted.
Marc smirked.
"I expected that outta Marc, but not you, Amanda! You and I are also pregnant women who can't see our toes, ourselves. Not to mention who could evah forget your Big Fat Ass Summer?" Hilda defended her sister.
"Wait, you know about that?" Amanda gasped in horror.
"Everyone who knows you knows about that, honey," Hilda said. "So be nice to my sista – who's in a coma for Christ's sake! Show some respect."
Amanda pouted.
"Marc!" Wilhelmina bellowed as she opened the door to the room. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
Everyone jumped.
"How many times have I told you to go with the grain, not against it? And fire engine red?! The woman lives in the country of the Queen, not in Queens! Three of you should know better," she continued.
"Hey, I tried to tell her," Justin sighed, shaking his head at his mother.
"Smart boy. Perhaps you can be my intern this summer," Wilhelmina told him. "Now, has anyone ever done Betty's hair? She looks worse than when we first met her! Do I have to do everything myself?! Everybody out! Leave!"
Everyone scurried out muttering about how bitchy she was.
"I know they mean well, but honestly, to kick a girl when she's down?" she said, reaching into her bag for some styling cream and a brush. "Only I'm allowed to do that."
"I was in your Jimmy Choos once, you know. Maybe that's why you grew on me over time. I could see a little of myself in you – the determination, the spirit – not the excess fat or those god awful braces. You climbed your way up the ladder of a magazine that you had no business belonging to. But you learned and you didn't give up. Then you had the balls to quit and move to another country to accept the job you had always wanted. Sure, it's not MODE, but it's not bad," Wilhelmina continued as she used a curling iron to fix Betty's hair.
Betty's and the baby's heart monitors beeped in the background.
Wilhelmina looked at her enormous, tacky hospital gown with disgust.
"I thought this was what was covering Kevin Federline's waistline," she scoffed and searched her bag for something more fitting. "Here, Khloe Kardashian wore these in her last photoshoot. The art department definitely had their work cut out for them trying to hide her curves – worse than Natalie Whitman. But she's a big girl and you're a big, pregnant girl. They might work. I'll tell the nurse to help you put it on."
She laid the long cream silk negligee and pink robe across her bed.
"I'm surprised no one else thought to put you in something better - not even Daniel. Well, who am I kidding, Daniel Meade couldn't find a fashion faux pas if it bit him in the ass! Although, your husband did have his moments, I'll admit," she commented to an unresponsive Betty. "You know, you're editor-in-chief of a successful European magazine, not some homely assistant anymore. Looking like something Fabia's dog dragged in is unacceptable – even in a coma."
"I couldn't agree more," Claire said, entering the room.
"Claire," Wilhelmina acknowledged her.
"Wilhelmina," Claire said. "I see you and my daughter-in-law are having some quality time together."
"Yes, well, I merely came to pay my weekly respects. When I saw there was still no progress on her hair and attire, I simply couldn't stand it any longer," Wilhelmina explained.
"You miss her, don't you?" Claire assumed.
"I suppose I do miss having someone to make fun of, especially since your son is no longer there either," Wilhelmina conceded.
"She's going to make it, you know," Claire told her.
"Yes, well let's hope so," Wilhelmina said. "The world would literally be a darker, emptier place without Betty in it."
"Clever," Claire rolled her eyes. "Let me guess – Hilda did her nails this time?"
"Who else?" Wilhelmina answered. "Although, can you really fault someone who went to beauty school in Queens?"
"Where's the remover?" Claire asked as the two women proceeded to fix Betty's nails.
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Daniel tossed and turned for the hundredth time that night. While it was nice to have a guest bed, for family members to stay, the mattress was incredibly uncomfortable. He had to admit that the older he got, the less adaptable he was to sleeping on hard surfaces. He'd have to have his mother bring it up to the staff at the next board meeting and possibly donate some money for new mattresses.
He was just about to finally fall asleep when he heard a faint voice calling out. He got up and turned on the bedside light. He cautiously went over to Betty's bed trying to tell himself he could just be dreaming. It was the middle of the night and he'd had very little sleep the past few weeks. But he kept hearing Betty moaning in pain and muttering someone's name.
"Ow! Where am I? . . . Aaah! Damn it, why does it hurt so bad?! . . . Oh, god – am I bleeding?! Did I just wet the bed?! . . . Henry . . . Where's Henry? . . . I need Henry!" she groaned.
