~ V ~
The more he thinks about the gala (and he does catch himself thinking about it a lot) he realises it isn't about the picture but rather how people think about Betty.
It starts to infuriate him, the way everyone dismisses her. Doesn't anyone see her like he does, really see her, for how extraordinary she is?
He's still stewing about it when his cell rings. He glances at the caller id, smiles at the welcome interruption.
"Betty, I was just – "
She cuts him off, which she almost never does. But he hears the urgency and panic and knows right away something bad has happened.
For once he's sorry his instincts are right. She tells him in a rush that Ignacio's been taken to hospital; the paramedics think it's a heart attack but they can't be sure until the doctors have seen him. She has no idea why she's calling Daniel but she needs to tell someone and yeah, she and Hilda are in the ambulance at the moment and there's nothing to do but watch the paramedics monitor her dad and she thought calling Daniel would distract her but he definitely doesn't have to come over to Queens or anything.
He completely ignores this and after prying the name of the hospital out of her assures her Ignacio is going to be all right, everything's going to be all right and he's coming just as soon he's humanly able to.
She protests feebly for a moment or two but capitulates quickly. He can tell even now she's scared and only just holding it together. He knows Betty well enough to imagine her being strong for her sister and taking charge of the situation.
But he knows better than that, knows she's just as shaken as Hilda and so he wants to be there for her like she's always been there for him.
The moment he flips his cell closed, he goes into automatic pilot. He doesn't remember cancelling the rest of the day's meetings or rescheduling the next, doesn't remember snapping at Amanda when she asks why he's rushing out of the office but does remember apologising and explaining to her why.
He can't believe he'd been thinking himself in circles about a mere photo just moments ago.
* * * * *
As depressing as it sounds, Daniel knows his way around a hospital. He's used to the harshness of the atmosphere and the claustrophobic intensity of its walls; the morbid expectation that once someone comes in they'll never get out. He tries to suppress the churning feeling in his stomach, conjured from memories of his father dying in just such a place.
He finds her with Hilda, the sisters hunched together in the waiting area. He can't quite tell how traumatised Betty really is until she tears away from Hilda and flies into Daniel's arms as soon as he rounds the corner.
"Daniel." She begins sobbing into his chest almost immediately. It scares him badly; he's never seen her lose it like this before. She's so used to being strong for everyone around her, he sometimes wondered whether her friends and family notice anymore how vulnerable she can still be.
Well, Daniel notices, and sees, everything. At least, he flatters himself to think that he does.
He does his best to soothe her, makes comforting noises while Hilda looks on. He's also acutely aware Gio has just materialised out of nowhere with Justin in tow, both laden with coffee.
Daniel doesn't let her go until she untangles herself from him and watches in pained silence while she wipes the tears from her face. It's all messily done with the edge of her sleeves but he lets her be because he knows what she's feeling, sitting at the chasm of losing her father and not being able to do anything about it.
It's the most horrible feeling in the world.
It's only when her sniffling start to fade that Daniel feels comfortable asking about Ignacio. "Betty, is he –"
She shakes her head, but fresh tears well in her eyes. "They say we won't know until tomorrow."
He nods and remembered when it happened to him; his stomach churns to think of it happening now to Betty.
Gio passes around the coffee in a distracted manner that leaves no room for doubt about his anxiety. Daniel knows Gio has become a good friend to Ignacio, sharing a mutual love of food and this must be hitting him almost as hard as the Suarezes.
Daniel doesn't know what else he can do; knows all too well that the brutal truth is, there is nothing they can do but wait.
So he chooses a seat with the family, and waits. She doesn't react when he takes her hand in his and if he thinks he feels a slight squeeze in response, he doesn't say anything about it.
* * * * *
Kindly doctors come and go, keeping them apprised of Ignacio's progress. Daniel's cell rings once which annoys the hell out of him and he brusquely switches it off. Later when he calms down, he finds it's Amanda letting him know she's taken care of all his meetings and commitments and to not worry about coming into work and also, she kind of really liked Ignacio's empanadas and wants her to let Betty know she'll be thinking of Ignacio.
He curses his insensitivity for the next half an hour, which doesn't help when he has nothing to do but wait and think.
He doesn't know how much time passes but one minute everyone seems to be stiff with worry and the next Hilda's slumped against the wall cradling Justin in her arms and Gio's pacing the waiting room intent on wearing a hole in the floor.
It's only then he realises Betty's gone.
He jerks to attention, scans the waiting area. Opens his mouth to ask Gio where she is but Gio beats him to the punch and responds that he doesn't know.
Daniel's instinct to not panic bears fruit when he finds her in an empty room a few doors down. She's gazing at something on the street below, silhouetted by light from the streetlamps outside. To say the room is eerie is the understatement of the century.
But what really catches him out – momentarily at least – is suddenly realising just how much Betty has changed from the girl he once knew. Doesn't know when it began or when he'd stopped noticing, but one moment she's the happy, playful assistant he remembers and the next she's, well, this.
No longer a girl with a dream, but woman with hopes, desires and ambitions to fulfil. She's a woman and a complex, interesting one at that.
He swallows this down; it's useless to him right now.
"Betty?" He bites down on the 'are you okay' because even he knows she's not okay at the moment. She won't be okay until she knows for sure Ignacio's going to be all right.
He steps gingerly into the room, hopes he's being as sensitive as he should be. "If you want to talk, I'm here. I'm right here."
He can't tell whether she heard him because she doesn't respond; as far as he's concerned she might as well be a statue, as still and quiet as the room they're standing in.
He resists the urge to shuffle on the spot. Her silence is slowly starting to freak him out. He's so used to seeing exuberance and liveliness bubble from her and this – this silence – he doesn't know how to deal with this.
He's on the verge of speaking again when she breaks the stillness.
"I can't go through this again. I lost my mom and … I can't do it again. Be strong for them. I can't. It's too hard."
The most excruciating thing about this is that he can make no absolute assurances. He can't lie and say everything's going to be okay because not everything turns out okay. Crap happens because the world's unfair and in the scale of unfairness this would be monumentally unfair, but that wouldn't stop it from happening, if it does.
He has no idea how to help, how to be there for her the way she was there for him when his father died.
And then realises that's how she helped. She was there for him when he needed her friendship the most and not even in an overly dramatic way. Just the thousand and one small touches of friendship that got him through the day that, at the time, he hadn't realised what she was doing.
Well, if she can do that for him, he surely can have a stab at doing it for her.
He draws closer to her but she continues to gaze out onto the street below. He gently places a hand on her shoulder, wants to let her know he's there. For a long moment she doesn't react; doesn't move for so long Daniel starts feeling foolish and makes to withdraw his hand.
But just as it slides away, she grabs and holds onto it, tight. Doesn't turn around but makes a strangled noise which he interprets as the beginnings of a breakdown and before he knows it he's got his arms about her waist, murmuring a mantra in her ear that's half-lie, half-wish. "He'll be okay, I know he will. He'll be okay."
Afterwards when he has time to think about it, he can't believe the single mindedness with which he'd gone about being there for her. He'd surprised himself but only knew at the time that she was miserable and he'd wanted – no, needed – to make her feel better at any cost.
He doesn't want to admit that by doing so, he had felt better too.
* * * * *
The waiting doesn't stop until morning, when the doctor wakes Betty, Hilda and Justin up to deliver the good news, that Ignacio will make a full recovery although the rehabilitation will be a long one.
There's happiness and rejoicing in the way only the Suarezes can express. Amidst the flurry of hugs and kisses and tears Daniel slithers to the side, content to watch the celebration. The family's unfettered joy seems too intimate for him to share.
Betty detaches herself from Justin and comes to Daniel with dancing eyes. She clears her throat a bit awkwardly, but maybe he just imagines it. "Thank you Daniel, for being here. You have no idea what it meant to me. To us."
Saying 'you're welcome' seems a tad too trite, so he settles for a cute smile and a hug.
Her joy is infectious and he finds himself grinning like a lunatic. He's more relieved than he can express that her father's pulled through, but it scares him to realise that her happiness means so much to him now.
When exactly had that happened?