A/N: Err so apparently not a three parter after all. I don't like this part. It sucks. :( I do apologise but I couldn't play about with it anymore. It was driving me insane.

And I thought of all the bad luck/and all the struggles we went through/how I lost me and you lost you/what are these voices outside love's open door/make us throw off our contentment/and beg for something more?/I've been learning to live without you now/but I miss you sometimes/the more I know, the less I understand/all the things I thought I knew, I'm learning them again

"You left the Book on your desk again."

Betty holds out the heavy folder with one hand, her bag slung over her free arm.

"I...uh...thanks...I," Daniel stutters over his words, his hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. She eyes him, her head tilted in observation.

"You left quickly enough," she says, trying to peer over his shoulder, "Not like you. Not anymore."

"I had to meet someone," he replies quickly. Too quickly. Her eyes narrow and Daniel knows the look all too well. She's sussing him out. "What?"

"Daniel Meade..." she scolds, keeping her voice low, "Is she here?"

He knows who she means, and his eyes dart away from hers, focusing on a spot on the neighbours door.

"No."

"Liar." Pants on fire.

"She's not!" His voice is a little squeaky and Betty frowns, clearly unimpressed. Someone doth protest too much.

"You wouldn't mind if I came in for coffee then?" she suggests, her hands disappearing behind her back, "It's been ages since we've had a real good catch up."

Daniel is staring at her with a mix of anger and frustration. Sometimes, only sometimes, Betty Suarez was the annoying older sister he never signed on for. He however didn't like referring to her in this way often. He wasn't sure why, just the idea of Betty in a sisterly way didn't...sit...with him very well.

"Well?" she asks, raising both eyebrows, in that innocent little way of hers that he despises so much. She doesn't wait for an answer, instead pushing past him in the doorway. She's surprisingly strong for such a small person, nearly knocking him sideways as she forces her way into his overly pompous New York studio. He watches as she stomps into the middle of his living area, looking around in confusion.

Well this was embarrassing.

"Well?" he repeats her question, quietly confident as he follows her in. She does that little chin lift, defiant, I'm-not-wrong-just-mistaken thing she does oh so well and rolls her eyes.

"I'm sorry Daniel I just thought..." she trails off with a laugh, "I knew you wouldn't do that."

Just as the words left her mouth, she hears the flush of the toilet chain and her brow furrows, her head turning to the bathroom door.

"I'm surprised you have managed to hang your towels up, I'm beginning to think Connor doesn't know where to towel rail is..." Molly emerges from the bathroom, stopping dead at the sight of Daniels assistant in the living area. She looks at her then to Daniel and then back at the pretty, olive toned, black haired girl. "Hi."

"Hi Molly, I'm-"

Molly stops her with a head shake and smile. "I know who you are Betty, I remember. Good seeing you again."

"You too," Betty replies in a quiet voice. Molly watches Betty's gaze fall back on her boss and there's this look between them...something she can't seem to figure out. Disappointment? No it's a little worse...confusion? She doubts that, his assistant seems fairly aware of what's going on. Hurt? Hurt. That must be it. But why would this hurt her? Molly glances sideways catching Daniel's eye. He stares back at her like a deer caught in headlights and Molly bites down on her lower lip, wondering what she's getting in the middle of.

"Well..." Betty sighs, smiling feebly at the young teacher, "I was only dropping the book in so I'm gonna take off."

"You're not staying?"

"No, I have work in the morning, and I'm exhausted."

"Oh. Ok. Well it was good seeing you again," Molly tells her, watching as Daniel ushers Betty from his apartment. He looks back at Molly, merely shrugging to indicate something and she's not sure what. She assumes it's some form of apology for having his assistant interrupt their evening. But something tells her Betty Suarez is as much a part of Daniels private life as she is his working one. They disappear behind his front door and Molly returns to the sofa, wondering if what she's about to do is such a good idea after all.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What are you thinking?" Betty hisses in a low whisper. She can feel Daniel's firm grip of her elbow leading her down the hall, away from his front door and prying ears. He certainly didn't want Molly to hear this.

"It's none of your business!" he snaps back still holding her. She feels his grasp tighten and she doesn't like it. It's how he always reminds her he has the power; he's the stronger of the two. He doesn't do it in such a way that intimidates or frightens, merely a warning to stay in her place, which in its own way is far worse than any threat.

"It's my business Daniel if this is gonna affect our working environment!" she bites out through clenched teeth. He raises his head, confused.

"Why would it affect our working environment? There's nothing between you and I, why should this bother you?"

His response stuns her and she blinks furiously, the only sound between them being heavy breathing and the shuffling of Betty's feet as she backs away.

"What?"

"What?" he repeats her question. Oh crap. She wasn't implying that. You're such a dickhead Daniel. He also makes the mental note of what the fuck but decides to deal with that bit later.

"I know there's nothing between us Daniel," she sighs, "Jesus you'd think I was a kid with a crush or something. Not everyone has a thing for Daniel Meade ya know?"

Ouch. He didn't think he was that repulsive to her.

"Whatever, point is stop getting involved in my private life! You don't belong there!"

Her eyes snap open, filled with rage and frustration. She wants to strangle the man in front of her so he'll disappear and won't confuse her life anymore than it's already confused.

"I belonged there after Sofia, and Petra, and Renee," she whispers, gesturing wildly. His mouth snaps shut, and he tries desperately to find a response. Any response. But there's nothing and he merely manages a noise, which Betty assumes is a grunt.

"Daniel this is a bad idea, please," she implores, deciding to try to softer approach. But Daniel's having none of it.

"I'm not gonna do anything!" he retorts sharply, "And even I did, as I said, this is none of your business so just butt out!"

"I'm trying to give you some advice here," she says, both hands on her hips, her face tilted to the floor.

"Yeah 'cause you're the expert. Henry left the State to get away from you, and Gio never wants to talk to you again!"

Suddenly she forgets the fact Daniel has neighbours, in this building and the next, and lets out the angriest groan he has ever heard from anyone as small as her.

"Oh you know what Daniel?"

"What?"

"You know what?"

"What?"

"Go hang yourself with your Prada scarf and die!" she screams. He stares at her, shocked and without response. She however seems satisfied, giving her a hair a little toss and turning on her heel into the now awaiting elevator.

Man she has timing.

The doors bing closed, and just as stormy as her arrival was, so is her exit. He's left angry, out of breath, and surprised at his assistant and friend. He considers going after her but he's too mad, still reeling from their argument. Instead he returns to his apartment, praying, but knowing, Molly did in fact heat the heated row between the two friends.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What is that noise?

The high pitched sound echoes through Betty's head and she buries her face further into her pillow. Still it wouldn't stop, and she bangs around with a hand on her dresser in an attempt to turn off what she assumes is her alarm.

It can't be that time already.

She screws open one eye, the digital numbers on her clock simply a blur. She realises now it's pitch black, still middle of the night, and it dawns on her the noise might not be a beeping more than it sounds like a ringing. Her hand searches the table again and she finds the receiver, bring it to her ear.

"Hello?" she says, half grunting, half yawning. She hears a noise on the other end, much like someone dropping something and she frowns, repeating her greeting. After no response she merely states her intent to hang up before being met with a gruff male voice.

"Betty?" he asks. Daniel.

She sits up in bed, reaching for her side lamp.

"Daniel...what's wrong?" she asks, "It's 2AM. Has something happened?"

"You were right," comes a slurred response, "I should die. I'm a terrible friend. I yelled at you, I tried to steal Connors fiancé. A Prada scarf is too good for me."

Awake, and both frightened and oddly amused by her best friend she presses the phone harder to her ear barely to make out his drunken speech.

"Where are you? Are you ok? Is Molly there?"

"She's gone. Everyone's gone," he sighs, "I just wanted to say...sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"Sorry for being mean. You are in my life. I like having you there. I don't deserve it though."

"Ok Daniel, where are you?"

No reply.

"Daniel?"

"In my apartment," he chokes out, "But you shouldn't come over. It's not pretty."

"Oh God, Daniel what have you done? Do I need to call an ambulance?" Betty's already stuffing her feet into a pair of trainers that always sit by her bed. She thinks she leaves them there for moments like this but she's not quite sure. Who anticipates their friends attempting suicide?

"No...I haven't done anything yet," he mumbles. She can hear him doing something, fumbling around in his apartment.

"Ok, promise me you won't?" she says, wrapping a cardigan around her shoulders, "Least until you talk to me first?"

More rummaging.

"Daniel?" she says. It comes out a little harsher than she intends but she can't help it.

"I promise."

"Good...I'll be there soon."

"Yeah."

"And Daniel?"

"Yeah?"

"I didn't mean it earlier."

"Me either."

And with that her phone dies in her hand.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Betty is soaked to the skin, rainwater dripping down her face from her hair. It hadn't helped that all she had grabbed while leaving was a cardigan. It clings tightly and uncomfortably to her skin and she's desperate to shed the wet clothing. She stops at Daniels front door, and thinks that she's finding herself here more and more of late.

Both at his front door and saving him from himself.

She knocks, and calls his name softly. When he doesn't answer she repeats it. She doesn't want a repeat of the last time she had let herself into Daniel's apartment and gotten quite the eyeful of him and some German model. It wasn't exactly a memory that faded quickly from the mind. But still, this scenario was different.

"Betty?" a voice calls back. She hears him shuffle behind the door.

"Yeah? You gonna let me in?"

He bangs against the door and she winces. That was his head. Listening intently, she hears the sound of his keys jingling as he tries each one in the lock with very little success.

"Ok, Daniel, I'm gonna use my keys."

There's no response and she takes that as an acceptance. Digging into her pocket, she finds his apartment key and opens the front door with ease. The sight in front of her is quite one to behold. Daniel stands, key poised where the lock was, blinking like an owl. He looks at her, then back at the place where the lock should have been.

"Where'd it go?" he asks, clearly confused.

"I opened it."

"But I have my keys."

"But I have a key."

"You're so smart," he sighs. She watches as he teeters down the hallway, banging off each wall on the way in, vodka in hand. She had to admit, she was expecting...well...more. More of what she isn't sure, but just more. Not that she isn't glad her best friend is still alive and well. She follows his path into his living room. Scarves lie strewn over the floor and she squints, confused.

"Um...Daniel?"

"Told you it wasn't pretty," he spits out after swigging from his bottle.

"What is all this?"

"I was looking for a scarf...to ya know..." he drags off with a heavy, defeated sigh. A huge part of her wants to laugh. Only Daniel would take something so literally.

"Which one did you decide on?" she asks, trying to keep composure.

"Couldn't do it," he mumbles. "I'm such a coward."

She looks up, regarding him with renewed concern. As laughable as this situation is, in her head at least, to him, this is very serious. To him, this is devastating.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

"Slept with her," he slurs, "Then she left. You're wet?"

"Yeah. It's raining."

"I'm sorry, I got you cold and wet," he says, stumbling towards her. His drunken concern is touching and she watches as he places the vodka bottle dangerous close to the coffee tables edge and approaches her. He places both hands on either shoulder and rubs, in a feeble attempt to heat her.

"It's ok," she chokes out, barely a whisper. He's close. Very close. Closer than perhaps he should be. She can smell his alcohol soaked breath and feel the inviting warmth of his body. She feels his thumbs hook in between the fabric of her cotton wrap and slide it down her arms. She feels the string of her vest fall with it.

"Daniel? What are you doing?" she asks, her head fuzzy, almost like she's the one who has drank nearly a half litre of vodka.

"If you keep on wet clothes you'll catch a cold," he states simply. She smiles. His hands run down her bare arms. Her skin is softer than he thought it would be.

"Ok, tell you what we're gonna do?" Betty says, breaking the silence between them, "I can't bring you back to mine so we're gonna stay here alright? I'll sleep out here, you get into bed."

Wordlessly, she feels Daniel tug on her hand leading her towards his bed on the other side of the studio. She feels her heart pound in her chest as he stops and shrugs out of his suit jacket. She looks back at the sofa and then to Daniel. He's stopped undressing and is watching her. He looks lost, much like a child.

"Don't wanna be alone," he mumbles, in a sort of explanation.

"Ok."

She turns her back, tying her hair back in loose ponytail. She wants to get rid of the wet clothes, but knows how inappropriate it would be.

Like this isn't already?

She turns to find Daniel in his black boxers and socks, looking wonderingly at her, then the bed. She gives him a half smile, her mind racing with a million thoughts. The bed is still unmade from Molly and she can smell sex and sweat. Under normal circumstances this isn't something Betty would consider. She likes to think she has some moral standard and hopping directly into a man's bed, straight after he has had sex with another woman no matter how cute/hot/lost he looks was just a no no.

He just wants a cuddle. Don't be so hard on him.

She approaches the bed, shaking out the sheets and turning them down, before sliding beneath them. Daniel follows her lead and she feels the bed sink his side as the bedside lamp flickers out. All she can hear in the dark is his breathing – heavy and regulated. He scoots over, placing an arm across her waist, coaxing her into a spooning position, which she does admit is rather nice. It dawns on her now how long it has been since she's just been held by a man, hell by anyone. She feels the hard of his chest pressed against her back, his hand snaking up to her ponytail and pulling her hair free.

She doesn't ask, she doesn't question, instead lies in the dark letting her best friend plant a feather light kiss on top of her shoulder before falling asleep.