Betty Draper drove her family vehicle through the abandoned New York streets, snuggling under her warm winter coat to keep the November weather at bay. She always felt a little anxious leaving the safety and conformity of Ossining, but as every housewife knew, private details needed to be kept away from prying eyes and ears.

Betty was no stranger to parking lot rendezvous, meeting more than one acquaintance under the cover of secrecy, to keep her precious image intact. Today was no different as she pulled into the abandoned parking lot, looking anxiously for the sign of another car…his car. She let out a sigh of desperation when she discovered that she was the only one in the small area. Turning off the car, she shivered in the cold and reached for her makeup and slowly reapplied the strokes, masking any fear or trepidation she may have been feeling on the inside. She hadn't been thinking when she called him, still numb from the life-altering events of the past few days.

She needed solace; that was all she knew when she saw a familiar white car pull up right next to hers. She laughed to herself at the thought of her white knight in a white car coming to rescue her from whatever she was feeling. Her heart skipped a beat as she unlocked the door, and Henry Francis scooted in next to her. A small smile formed on her mouth. He was her choice for comfort, someone reliable. Lord knew she couldn't turn to her husband, his attention and affection toward her was always fleeting.

Betty had only known Henry a few short months, becoming unlikely partners and allies in the effort to preserve the local reservoir from the potential water tank imposed by the city. One innocent meeting led to more, all kept under the cover of secrecy, to preserve Henry's role in the Governor's office and Betty's sterling reputation in the community.

Betty leaned against his body, allowing him to calm her with his soft tone. Closing her eyes, she began to imagine herself in a paradise, away from the rest of the cold world, which never seemed to end.

She found herself jolted awake by a question that she never dreamed coming. "Marry you?" Betty Draper stammered, looking into the aged eyes of the elderly politician. "Marry you?"

"You don't need to give me an answer right away." Henry Francis took her hand in his. "I just want you to know what my intentions are."

Betty shook her head, her mind swimming with thoughts. "I'm still married," she whispered. "Do you know how difficult it is to get a divorce in New York – anywhere?"

"There are places that you can go," Henry reasoned.

"I don't know what to say." Betty was stunned, delivered another blow in what was turning into a catastrophic year.

"Don't say anything," Henry assured her. "I'll wait for you."

"For how long?" she asked, attempting to find out if his infatuation with her was more than just a simple whim.

"As long as it takes," he assured her. "If anything is worth the wait, it's you."

Betty gave Henry a slightly forced smile, not wanting to hurt the poor man's feelings. They never talked about how they felt towards one another; the majority of their stolen meetings dealt more with quick moments of passion than deep conversation. "I should go – my family needs me," she said, reminding him of her primary obligation.

Henry nodded his head as he got out of her car and into his own. Betty turned on her low lights and began driving home in the dark, back to her so-called home in Ossining, New York.

It was twilight when she arrived at the darkened house on 42 Bullet Park Road. The neighborhood was still in shock of the shootings of John F. Kennedy and his assassin, Lee Harvey Oswald. Betty slid her key into the lock and walked inside, wondering what she would say when she saw him.

They had become strangers; the man who she called 'husband' had kept a lifetime of secrets – an entire identity – away from her. The identity crisis proved to be only part of the troubles between Mr. and Mrs. Donald Draper, but it was what brought a rocky marriage to the breaking point, and housewife Betty didn't know what to do.

Betty's feminine heels clicked against the hard-wood floors. She had to find him, to tell him what she felt, or at least thought she felt, in an effort to clear her mind and find out where she wanted to go next. She followed the light of the television set and found him, sitting on the couch with a drink in his hand.

He acknowledged her presence with a nod. "Francine has the kids," he explained, catching her up on what had happened since her impromptu decision to go out by herself. He didn't want her to leave the house alone, not on a day like today, but after everything she had been through over the past few days, it was all he could do to grant her one request.

"I don't know where to begin," Betty said softly, disposing of pleasantries; her tone was somber, due to lack of sleep and constant anxiety.

"What?" Don Draper looked positively dumbfounded at his wife. True, he didn't know what to expect from her when she returned, he was hoping for her to seek solace with him – believe his promise that everything would still be okay in the end. But the Betty that he saw before him, weary and downtrodden, he didn't know what to do with her.

Betty took off her heavy coat. "I want to scream at you, for ruining all of this." She struggled to hide the tears in her voice, struggling to remain strong and stick to her words. Don blinked his eyes at her, waiting for her to continue. "But then you tried to fix it….and there's no point. There's no point Don." She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. She wondered where the point was, the last possible chance that he had to fix everything that went wrong in their marriage; everything from his philandering to his stubborn silence and guarded secrets.

Don stood up and bridged the gap between them. "You're very upset; I understand. I know it's very painful, but it's going to pass." He reaffirmed what he promised her the night before at the wedding of Roger Sterling's daughter Mona. He needed her to hold on a little longer, put her faith in him once again.

"I don't love you," she responded, her eyes locking with his. She wasn't going to allow his gifted ability with words to placate her any longer.

"Betts don't," Don insisted. "You're distraught," he reasoned, implying that she wasn't thinking clearly, that it was the grief and shock of the last few days that was causing her to reject him.

"It's true," she said silently, biting her lip to keep from crying. "That I don't love you anymore."

"Stop it!" Don ordered in the same way he ordered their children Sally and Bobby to abide by his will.

She closed her eyes. She learned many skills from being married to such an accomplished speaker and persuader over the years, and one of them was the ability to bluff. "I kissed you yesterday," she said, recalling Don's romantic gesture during the wedding dance, "and I didn't feel a thing," she shrugged. She was silent, waiting for him to make his move, wondering if he would believe her.

The silence was deafening, it lasted for seconds, but they felt like hours to her. Don shook his head, stunned by her words. She may as well have slapped him across the face, he was so taken aback. "You'll feel better tomorrow – you'll see," Don said finally, in an attempt to trivialize her feelings.

"You can't even hear me right now," she coolly responded, not knowing whether he believed her white lie or not. He still gets the upper hand she thought in frustration, wanting once to end up on top with him, to be the one in control.

"You're right," Don concluded, giving her a final look before walking away, up the stairs. Betty watched his movements, her eyes beginning to well with tears. It was safe to cry, now that he was away and couldn't see her. She sunk into the couch and buried her head in her hands. She had thought long and hard about what she was going to say to him in the car, she imagined him lashing out at her, leaving the house in fury, giving her the option for divorce. But once again, he played it close to the vest; she didn't know what was fully going on in that mind of his. He wasn't going to tell her how he felt, not now or ever.

Betty let out a soft wail. She wanted him to feel pain, anger, anything; to put him through the emotional hell that he had so blindly put her through over the past few years. Yet she seemed to have lost the battle. Once again, Don came out on top, refusing to acknowledge her feelings. I want him to love me she thought to herself as she curled up on the couch.

Don sat on the edge of the master bed in the room that he shared with Betty. She can't mean it he told himself, resting his head on his hands. She's reacting to the circumstances; in the morning, everything will be okay…it has to be. Don let out a heavy sigh, wondering if he was wrong, if he had lost one of the few people he ever gave his heart to.