Author's note: Found this in an old computer some time ago. It was written years ago and I tweaked it a little bit. The plot was inspired by a Christmas movie I saw as a kid entitled Comfort and Joy. Hope you enjoy.

CHAPTER 1:

Despite never having been one to have a way with them, Daniel Meade had never been at loss for words to comprehend, let alone describe the host of emotions he was currently going through. He'd heard people speak of feeling cold and hot at the same time and yet had never experienced it; not up until about three hours ago at least, where he was humiliated on live television. And that feeling was still coursing through his body. With hands tucked in his pockets, he sullenly stared at the blazing fireplace in his father's large dimly lit office, its orange glow on his face a mockery of the day's main event; he got burned. He tightened his jaw as the emotions continued to flood inside him.

Pulling his hands out of his pockets he looked down at them. He quickly clenched them into fists upon noticing a slight tremble. He strongly resisted the urge to chug the entire decanter of scotch that sat atop his father's credenza, which was why he stood with his back to it. Perhaps shock and disbelief were what hindered the tears from spilling down his cheeks as his mind replayed the terrible earlier event over and over. Among the series of emotions boiling inside him, one that was dominant was contempt. How could Sofia do this to him, on national television no less? But mostly he was mad at himself for not seeing it coming. Was he really that shallow and stupid that he couldn't see that she was playing him? A distant voice behind him shook him from his trance. He turned to see his father standing behind him with a frown on his face.

"I'm going to go down right now and fire her." Bradford affirmed.

"You're certainly free to do whatever you want." Daniel answered meekly, tightening his jaw before continuing "If I were CEO, I'd be signing her up to a long-term contract. That stunt she pulled will probably guarantee you the single biggest launch of any magazine in the company's history."

"But you're my son. She hurt you." His father said gently, putting his arm on his shoulder.

"It's just business, Dad."

"Are you sure?" Queried the old man.

"Yeah...I...uh...I gotta go." He said stiffly.

"Once again, I'm sorry, Son." Bradford offered gently. Daniel only gave a nod in response.

"Take care, Dad." He whispered before lurching to the door.

Like a lamb to the slaughter, he slowly walked to the elevator. He buttoned his jacket as he tapped his foot, waiting to be taken down to the Mode floor where he was a definite figure of ridicule among the gaggle of gossips working there. The thought suddenly filled him with dread. He stepped onto the elevator as soon as the doors slid open and found himself hesitating to press the 28th floor button. The thought of being met with all sorts of curious expressions; pity from those who felt sorry from him, regret and pity from Betty, satisfaction from Wilhelmina and her minion Marc and all the other girls he slept with and didn't call back became too much for him to bear. Therefore, he opted for the parking lot button. He stepped off the elevator and onto the parking structure and trotted toward the fleet of shiny Town Cars. As he approached one of the cars, one of the drivers came jogging.

"Mr. Meade!" The dark suited man exclaimed upon reaching him.

"Yeah...uh..."

"Paul" The man announced.

"Right. I need the car, I..." Daniel began.

"Certainly, Sir. Let me get the door for you." The driver offered.

"No, I'll drive myself, don't worry." Daniel declined.

"But this is a company car, Sir. You can't just…"

"Yeah, MY father's company! Take it up with him. Now give me the damn keys if you want to still have a job tomorrow morning!" Hollered Daniel. Without further argument, the driver held up the car keys to him. Daniel snatched the keys from the other man's hand, unlocked the car and moments later the car reversed with a screech before pulling off.

He came to regret his decision to drive himself almost immediately as he slowly moved through the annoying city traffic. He assumed the task would grant him peace of mind but instead it only added to his misery. Curses flew out of his mouth as the minutes continued to tick by. It was nearly thirty minutes later which actually felt like three hours when the traffic began moving again. He managed to escape it by taking side streets. Not being used to driving, her ran a stop sign on this particular street which resulted in a near collision with another car. However, after his quick swerve, a wall seemingly came out of nowhere and the only reaction was to screw his eyes tightly shut and brace himself for the impact. And an impact it was.

Shortly after feeling the vibration from the collision, he opened his eyes and he could immediately tell that something wasn't quite right. His chest heaving and his heart pounding, something caught his eye; the logo on steering wheel his fists were clinging to was not that of the Lincoln he was driving moments ago but that of an Aston Martin. He blinked rapidly trying to focus on the steering wheel and that's when he noticed another peculiar thing about his surroundings. Looking out the window, he noticed that the grey, dull sky from only seconds ago had disappeared and that it was completely dark. He scrunched up his face as another detail caught his eye; the wall he had just collided with was nowhere to be seen and instead there was a pillar of a private residence; a mansion to be precise. He was definitely not in the side street anymore, this was more of a suburb. His heart began to pound harder and faster.

He looked down on his wrist to check the time and he noticed that he wore a simple black leather strap watch with the Calvin Klein logo rather than the flashy Marc Jacobs that cuffed his wrist about a minute ago. He wasn't wearing the suit jacket from earlier but was instead wearing a grey sweater with sleeves of a white dress shirt peaking underneath. His brows flickered upon seen another item of clothing on his shaky hand; a platinum ring encircling his left ring finger. The look of confusion turned into panic. Bewildered, he frantically patted his torso and arms, examining his attire. What was happening and where was he? He took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself as he began to wonder just how long he was out from the collision. He tried to piece together the day's events from waking up right up to the humiliating interview, his conversation with his father and the drive home, the stop sign, the wall which is where it all got fuzzy. Had he perhaps made it home, changed his clothes, rented an exotic car, went out partying and got drunk in an attempt to get over the humiliating incident with Sofia? He adjusted the mirror and took a glance. He nearly sighed in relief that he still looked the same however he inhaled sharply as he noticed that the spikey hairstyle he wore this morning was gone and was now sporting a side part haircut. The last time he had that 40-year-old-dad haircut was during his 10th grade homecoming dance.

"What the fuck is going on?" He muttered as his heart raced rather abnormally. Little did he know that his dilemma was about to get stranger.

He unbuckled his seat belt, unlocked the door and stepped out to figure out what the hell was going on. Indeed, it wasn't the Town Car but a silver or grey Aston Martin; he couldn't really tell on account of the light and his state of mind. He scanned the vicinity in confusion and he was right this was a residential area with a mansion across the street from the one whose pillar he just damaged. Just as he was looking at a few more homes lining up the street, the sound of the wrought iron gate sliding open caught his attention. His eyes wide, he saw a figure, probably the owner of the mansion emerging and then he heard a voice that was way too familiar.

"Oh my God! Daniel!" Cried the woman. He stared in awe as the lady came into full view and to his shock, the woman who was quickly becoming the bane of his existence was rushing over to him. On top of a crappy day, he also crashed his car at Wilhelmina Slater's house. Was it Friday the 13th or something? He wondered.

"Daniel! Oh God, are you okay?" She asked as she placed her hands on his broad shoulders, her face contorted in fear.

"Wha-...what the...Wilhelmina?" He stuttered.

"Daniel, are you alright?" She asked, her voicing shaky. She hastily examined him, her gaze and hands quickly roaming his face and the rest of his body, searching for injuries. Daniel continued to stare at her completely mystified. He was expecting her to yell at him screaming about how he was going to pay for any damage he inflicted on her property and not her caring about him being okay after a car wreck.

"Wilhelmina...this is your house? You live here?" He finally asked.

"Uh…yeah?...and so do you. You don't seem to be physically hurt."

"Wait…what did you just…I live here too?" He asked, his brows furrowed.

"Darling, are you alright?"

"Darling?" His confusion was quickly replaced by utter surprise.

"Daniel, please don't play with me right now. This isn't funny. Are you really okay?"

"Wilhelmina, I'm not joking. Where the hell am I?"

"Are you feeling any pain anywhere?"

"No!"

"Not even your head?" She continued.

"Wilhelmina, I just told you I'm fine. I don't live here and this isn't my car!"

"What do you mean?"

"This is an Aston Martin and the last time I checked I didn't own one. I wasn't even driving this car I was driving the Town Car when I got into…"

"Town Car? Daniel how much did you have to drink tonight?"

"I didn't drink. I was driving home from work and then out of nowhere..." He babbled.

"Okay, okay, okay." She cut him off. "Let's talk inside, shall we?"

Their long walk from the driveway led them to the entrance of the house. Wilhelmina pushed one of the large double doors open and lead Daniel inside. He walked into a grand foyer with an imperial staircase and he didn't even flinch; the place didn't look familiar and looked like the celebrity houses he saw on television. He followed her to a living room area, his eyes scanning the mansion all the while and the more he did so the more he was sure he had never been in this house let alone reside in it.

"Please sit. I need to call the doctor because I believe you have a concussion."

"Wilhelmina, what is going on?" He asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?"

"All of a sudden? Daniel, I'm your wife. You get into a car wreck, the car and the pillar are the least of my worries."

"You're what?" He breathed, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"I don't care about the wall. What matters is that you're all right."

"No, no I meant the wife part. What does that mean?" He clarified. She looked deep into his eyes and knew her husband and she knew that he wasn't joking and that his little confusion was more serious than she initially thought. Panic began to set in but she composed herself.

"Daniel, we're married." She revealed. She watched him flinch, his eyes widening while the color drained from his already pale face.

"What? Married? To you?" He sneered. Her stomach dropped at both the comment and the look on his face. Not once had her husband looked at her like that but she did her best to overlook the expression on his face in light of the circumstances.

"Yes, for the last five years." She replied.

"Say what now? When did we…"

"Spring 2008." She quickly replied

"2008? That can't be. It's 2006." He stammered.

"It's 2013." She corrected.

"What? Wilhelmina, that can't be right. It's 2006." He protested.

"No, it's not." She affirmed before taking a long deep breath. "Just tell me the last thing you remember and maybe we can retrace your steps." She suggested. She listened intently, cringing as he recounted the day's events from the moment he woke up to the collision.

"So let me get this straight; your last memory is the day Sofia Reyes pulled that stunt on TV nearly eight years ago?"

"Yes." He sheepishly replied. Despite feeling her heart sink at his admission, she knew she had to focus on the facts. Her husband had just lost the last seven years of his life and she had to act fast before the damage could get any more serious.

"Look, we're wasting time here, Daniel. Just let me take you to the ER and we'll discuss everything later."

"But…"

"Please, we have got to go. You are hurt and we have no idea how bad it is." She said grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet. "Now please!"

"Okay."

"Please wait here. I'll be back in a sec." She said before rushing off and disappearing into the hallway.

It was in the early hours of the morning when they returned to the house and back to square one as it seemed. After nearly three hours of medical examinations and questioning about his alcohol and medicine intake, the doctor determined no signs of external and internal injuries and after a series of tests including an MRI, the doctor concluded that there was nothing wrong with Daniel except a mild concussion. She theorized that the alcohol he consumed prior to the wreck contributed to the temporary memory loss. After Daniel refused to stay for an overnight observation, he was free to go home with the doctor suggesting rest and observation by Willie. She also told them to come back if the symptoms were still present by morning. Even thought Willie initially questioned the doctor's orders of allowing Daniel to sleep with a concussion she was assured that it was mild and that as long as he could hold a conversation, he should be fine and that Willie should keep an eye on him. And after an awkward car ride they were back in the large home.

"Just get some sleep just like the doctor recommended. You'll sleep in our bedroom and I'll sleep in one of the guest bedrooms." She suggested as they walked up the stairs.

"No, I will. I think I should be the one sleeping in the guest bedroom." He protested.

"No, the doctor told me that you need familiar surroundings and hopefully sleeping in our bed will help jog your memory and you'll wake up feeling just fine."

"Yeah, you're right." He sighed. She opened the door and ushered him into the massive master bedroom. He watched her as she retrieved his pyjamas and handed them to him. She then peeled the covers and rearranged the pillows for him while he awkwardly watched, waiting for her to leave before he could undress.

"I'll come in and check on you every 15 minutes or so, so don't be alarmed.

"I told you I feel fine." He softly insisted.

"But you're not. You remember nothing about our life." She argued, her frustration mounting.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. Just get some sleep and we'll talk in the morning when you're better, okay? Good night."

"Uh…okay good night too." He awkwardly replied.

As soon as she closed the door, Daniel began to undress and got under the covers. After tossing and turning for about 15 minutes he concluded that Wilhelmina was wrong, there was nothing familiar about his surroundings. The bed triggered no memory whatsoever, probably because it wasn't his; it was way too soft, the smell of covers was completely different from the slightly pungent one he was accustomed to back in his SoHo loft. Then suddenly a light bulb went off in his head. He jumped off the bed and fumbled through the pile of clothes he shed on the floor, searching for his phone to call Betty; she would clear things up. But there was no cellphone, only his wallet. He took out his driver's license and to his surprise and chagrin his address was not the one he remembered, he was now a resident of a Chappaqua suburb. As disappointing as it was, that information helped him because whether he liked it or not, this was home and that's when he decided to resign himself to his fate under the hope that maybe he would wake up from this dreadful nightmare and would be in his own bed in SoHo by dawn. He pulled up the covers and before he knew it he was out like a light.

Despite a long shower, the lack of sleep was still evident Willie's face. She spent the previous night as Daniel's night nurse, checking up on him every 20 minutes. She even watched him sleep for a while as she hugged her body, tears threatening to spill as her fears about his condition lingered. She barely slept and spent hours on the internet reading about car accidents, concussions and amnesia. Then she made it worse by reading real life stories which she regretted immediately because they only increased her fears and made her even more restless.

She brought the warm mug to her lips, blowing on it lightly before taking a sip. She blankly stared into space as she silently prayed that Daniel was okay and that last night was nothing but a tiny scare. She knew she had to remain strong, she couldn't fall apart now especially since she was holding out hope that he was going to wake up with his memory and everything would be back to normal. But no matter what she told herself, she couldn't help feeling apprehensive about the entire ordeal. What if Daniel's memory was still messed up? What if he had a serious frontal lobe injury and was permanently damaged and what if he never recovers and requests a divorce because he did not know the real her, who she had become and the life they built together? At that moment when a lot of 'what if' questions were playing on her mind, she realized just how scared he was of losing him. A plate sliding across the breakfast table snapped her from her trance.

"Here you go, Mrs. Meade."

"Thank you, Wendy but I'm not really…" She said before taking another sip of her coffee.

"You just told me you hardly slept last night. You need your energy and not the kind that comes from those energy drinks." The older woman lightheartedly chided. Even though she wanted to protest, Willie knew that the woman was right. She gave in and accepted the fork that was held out to her.

"So, he couldn't remember a thing about your life at all?" Asked the older woman.

"Not a damn thing."

"Not even the…"

"No." Replied Willie.

"Oh, my God. This sounds terrible, like a storyline straight out of Las Pasiones de…"

"I thought the same thing last night. I felt like I was in a Telenovela. I still do." She said before taking another sip from her mug.

"Maybe when he wakes up everything will be fine."

"I sure hope so."

"All you need is a little faith." Wendy encouraged softly.

"That has never really been my strong point, I'm afraid." She admitted.

After a long dreamless sleep Daniel finally awoke. As he began to stir, he realized that he wasn't in his own bed and more importantly last night hadn't been a dream because this bed way softer and the covers smelled a lot better. He was still in Wilhelmina's bedroom. Before he could push off the covers he froze, his face contorted in confusion as a strange feeling suddenly swept over him. Panicked, he quickly sat up on the bed, his gaze darting about the bedroom. There was something about this bed, his supposed marital bed, the smell and the feel of it. It didn't trigger a memory or anything but there was something familiar about it even though he was sure he had never slept in this bed before. He couldn't quite understand it, how could something feel so foreign and yet so familiar at the same time? His gaze fell on the dresser as a few objects caught his attention. He got off the bed and slowly walked over to the dresser, picked up the framed photographs of him and Wilhelmina. He swallowed hard as he studied them carefully. He set them back down quickly as that feeling came over him again. Dumbfounded, he slowly walked to the door.

He stepped out on the hallway, looking both directions trying to remember where the stairs were located. He carefully ambled down the silent hallway and walked down the grand staircase. He heard faint voices from a distance. He followed the voices; it was two women talking and one of whom was Wilhelmina. A few more steps and he walked into a massive open plan kitchen to find Wilhelmina perched up on the island.

"Hey." He rasped. The women jumped at the sound of his voice, Wilhelmina's face lighting up upon seeing him. Her expression, however, quickly fell as her eyes met his, realizing that his condition hadn't improved and that he didn't remember a thing. His chest tightened at seeing the look of hurt and disappointment on her face.

"Daniel." She greeted at which he replied with a small smile. She jumped off the stool and rushed over to him and gripped his biceps "How are you feeling?"

"Uh…not sure…hungry?"

"Okay come on and get something to eat." She said gripping his hand and leading him to the island.

"Good morning, Mr. Meade." Said the older woman smiling warmly at him. "Here's your breakfast."

"Thanks. I feel like I haven't eaten in days." He joked as he hopped up on the stool.

"I'll leave you two to it. I'll be upstairs." Announced the older woman.

"I asked Wendy to make waffles this morning." Said Willie.

"Waffles?"

"They're your favorite." She reminded him

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm your wife."

"Right, sorry." He whispered sheepishly.

"Don't be. How did you sleep?"

"I slept well actually. I didn't wake up in the middle of the night or anything. Just a long, dreamless sleep." He answered before he started noshing on the pancakes while Willie watched.

"There's your phone. You left it in the car last night." Said Willie, pointing to a countertop across the room.

"Good. I better call Betty and tell her that I'm not coming in today."

"Betty is no longer your assistant." Willie revealed.

"What?"

"Daniel, there have been a lot of changes over the past eight years. A lot."

She proceeded to tell him all about the big events at Meade Publications. He furrowed his brows as he listened intently, slowly nodding as he tried to absorb the information dumped on him all at once. She filled him in on major events from his parent's divorce down to Alex's resurrection. He jumped of the stool staring at her in disbelief and unfortunately for him she wasn't finished.

"I can't fucking believe this!" He exclaimed.

"Daniel, please keep it down." She begged.

"He put us through all that pain all because he couldn't tell Dad that he's a transvestite?"

"She's transgender." She corrected.

"Whatever! What the fuck is wrong with Alex?" He screamed.

"Lower your voice and watch your language!" She chided.

"Are you kidding me? You just dropped these bombs on me and that my BROTHER is now my SISTER and that he's not dead and I can't react?"

"I'm not saying you're not allowed to react. I'm not asking you not to swear for me, it's actually for…" But before she could finish, she was cut off.

"Daddy!" Daniel jerked back, his eyes bulging out. His heart began to hammer, his throat going dry as a chill went down his spine.