He continues to drown his sorrows, and the days drag on. He spends his nights alone, and his days thinking of her. He's sitting at his desk, after everyone has left. Betty walks in. He looks up at her.
"I thought that you went home over an hour ago."
"No. Marc and I were working on something."
"Oh. Do you need something?"
"Yeah."
"What?"
"I need you to stop feeling sorry for yourself. We need you here, and you're never here."
"I spend almost all of my time here."
"Physically, but your head is somewhere else."
"You wouldn't understand."
"I understand, but at what point do you decide?"
"Decide what?"
"To go after her, or to move on. You can't spend the rest of your life feeling sorry for yourself."
"I don't want to move on."
"And how is doing nothing about it working for you?"
"It's not."
"So then do something, or move on."
"Why are you so upset?"
"Because it's time for you to grow up."
"I don't know what you mean."
"You're acting like a petulant child."
"You're right."
"But..."
"But nothing, your absolutely right."
"So does that mean that you're going to decide?"
"I think that I should go out."
"Good for you," she smiles, and turns to leave.
She's waiting on the elevator when a tall, dark, handsome, man comes up beside her.
"Heading out?" he asks.
"Yes."
"Would you like to go out for a drink?" he asks her.
"I've got a lot of work left to do," she answers.
"It will be there tomorrow."
"I don't like to mix business with pleasure."
"That surprises me about you."
"I'm full of surprises."
"Wilhelmina please go out with me. We can go to dinner, wherever you'd like."
"I already ate," she lies.
"Then we can just go somewhere and talk."
"Mitch, I'm flattered, but I..."
"But what?"
"I just don't feel like going out."
"We could stay in if you'd like."
"No. I'd just like to go home."
"Why are you so uptight?"
"I'm not."
"Really?" he questions as the elevator doors open, and they step inside.
"I've just made some very bad relationship decisions."
"It doesn't have to be a relationship. We can just have some fun."
"No."
"Why not? Have I done something to offend you?"
"No."
"So what then?"
"You're just not my type."
"I'm not you're type? I'm every woman's type."
"Not mine."
"Whatever," he rolls his eyes.
When she gets off the elevator she leaves the building and gets into a car. She heads back to her apartment for a long, sleepless, night.
Her head hits the pillow, and her eyes close, but sleep, it never comes. She prays for it, but it eludes her. She tosses, and turns. Finally after hours of waiting, she wears herself down. She falls asleep. She wakes less than an hour later in a cold sweat. She flips on the light, and grabs her computer. She searches the internet aimlessly. Then she finds it, a clip of Suzuki St. Pierre. She hits play, and instantly regrets it.
"It looks as if Daniel Meade is back to his old ways. He has been spotted with at least seven girls in half as many days."
She turns the computer off, and sinks into her bed. She turns the lights off, and puts a pillow over her head. Tears begin to fall and she nearly drowns herself.
He looks at the woman in the bed next to him. A young, blonde, model, the type of woman he was comfortable with. He tosses the covers back, and slips out of her bed. He quickly dresses himself, and tiptoes toward the door.
"Where are you going?" she asks him.
"I have an early meeting," he lies as he slips out the door. He grabs his shoes, and heads back to his apartment. When he arrives the emptiness greets him with open arms. He locks the door behind him, closing out the world. He collapses into his bed. He sleeps fitfully. When he wakes the clock tells him he has ten minutes before he has to be up. He stares at the empty space next to him. He turns the alarm off, and wonders into the bathroom. He takes a shower, and brushes his teeth. He goes into his closet, and begins to get dressed. He rifles through drawers, looking for a pair of cuff links. He pulls open a drawer and finds a bra inside. He stops cold, and his heart skips a beat. He stands frozen for several moments. Finally he wills himself to close the drawer. He grabs a pair of cuff links, and leaves the closet.
She sits at her desk, typing away. She finds herself thinking about him, even as she tries to work. She doesn't even hear her co-worker slip into her office. She stops typing, and looks up.
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough," he answers.
"Do you need something?"
"I'm taking you to lunch," he answers.
"I can't I have a lot to do."
"Wil, you always have a lot to do. You need to take a break every now, and again."
"I really can't," she argues.
"I insist. I'm not leaving your office until you decide to come with me."
"Jason, I've..."
"Stop making excuses. Come on," he demands.
"I'm your boss," she reminds him.
"So fire me," he dares her.
"I'm not going to fire you."
"I know, because if you did you wouldn't have anyone to do your bitch work for you."
"I'm sure I could find someone to fill your shoes."
"No one can fill my shoes."
"So are you buying?" she questions.
"What kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn't?"
"Ok," she agrees.
A/N: The shift between Daniel, and Wilhelmina's perspective aren't necessarily happening in the same time frame.