Author's Note: This is my first foray into the Mad Men world. I figured, if no one was going to write what I wanted, I'd better write it myself! If anyone was wondering, the title comes from the 1962 song of the same name by The Duprees. I do not own anything, all characters and events belong to Matthew Weiner and AMC.

"It's very important"

Peggy turned her attention away from the little girl and back towards Pete. One look at Pete's face told her that this wasn't a minor matter. He looked dejected and… lost. She nodded at him and removed herself from the embrace of the over ambitious child actor.

She followed him into his office, her blue eyes scanning his body language easily. She couldn't help her feelings of apprehension, especially when she noticed the way his shoulders slumped as he walked ahead of her and held the door open. He shut the door behind them and leaned his full body against it, as if entering the office had sucked out all of his remaining energy. He sighed, looking up at the ceiling and refusing to meet her eyes.

"What's wrong?" she whispered. This was becoming extremely concerning. She hadn't seen Pete act like this in years, at least not in front of her. He declined to answer her, and instead wandered over to the couch and sat down. She followed and sat hesitantly beside him.

"I'm telling you this because…" he hesitated and she held her breath, "I don't know, because no one else will. And you really need to know."

He finally looked up and met her eyes with his own matching blue pair. Peggy sucked in a breath. Her heart was pounding as her head raced to try to come up with all the possibilities. Was this about work? Did something happen to his family? Did something happen to...?

"We're being absorbed by McCann."

She let out a breath of relief, but it only lasted for a moment. This was definitely not good news. Why was he telling her this when it seemed like he just found out himself? This was by far the most intimacy they'd had in years. She steeled herself and quickly reconstructed the wall she often took shelter behind when her emotional side threatened to take over: focusing on her career.

"Are they letting me go?" she asked, staring straight ahead.

"No," he said, his tone disbelieving, as if the mere thought of McCann rejecting her was ridiculous, "They'll need you for a while, maybe forever. All I know is, having a leg up on the rats that are going to fly off this ship is going to help you. I wouldn't want it."

"Oh," she said softly.

She allowed herself to look at him closely. Even though his hair was greatly receding he sill had loose stands hanging down, as he often did when he was too tired or just didn't care anymore. She liked it like that. Sitting here on the couch with him felt so familiar, almost safe, in a way. They had done this same thing almost ten years ago. It was as if they were two kids again, just starting out with all the promises of the future. She wasn't naïve though, she was well aware that they had actually become quite the opposite of that.

"Are you going?" she asked, unsure why his answer mattered so much to her.

"I have to," he said sadly. He paused once more before continuing in a less steady voice.

"I've never worked anywhere else."

Suddenly he wasn't his bitter, calculating self. He wasn't the old cunning, ambitious, cold Pete that she had first met either. This was the Peter she'd only seen a handful of times. The worried, lonely kid who truly didn't know how to act or what to do next. He was giving her this information because he needed counsel, but couldn't outright say it. He never could. But she understood him. Suddenly she felt compelled to offer him comfort in a way that she hadn't felt in years.

"You'll do great," she said softly, turning towards him and reaching out to touch his arm. She couldn't remember the last time they'd had physical contact.

He looked at her and she smiled at him, genuinely but sadly. For a moment she thought he was going to say something else as his watery eyes gazed into hers, but he quickly looked away.

"You should get back to work."

And it seemed his defenses were back up. Just like her, it was always the work that he used as a buffer. He continued to stare at a random spot on the floor until she had no choice but to stand up and make her way to the door. When her back was to him, he finally spoke up again.

"For your ears only."

She turned to look back at him. He was looking at her with such melancholy on his face that she didn't know what to say. Her skill with words seemed to abandon her when he stared at her that way. For all the words she knew, she couldn't find any good enough to put together to say to him. So she simply nodded at him. He nodded back.

He watched her leave and remained on the couch in silence for another twenty minutes. The ghost of her hand on his upper arm remained, like a whisper he could still sense.

Pete didn't know why he felt compelled to tell Peggy the news immediately. He hadn't made a conscious decision to do so, but seeing her with that little girl had triggered something. Of course it had.

He shouldn't be thinking of the ghosts of the past now. There was business to be done and the enormous fact of the agency going under to think about. Yet the thought that kept nagging at the back of his mind was, what about Peggy? Was she going to come with them? As he had said to her, he had never worked anywhere else, and he couldn't imagine being in an office without her presence. Even when they weren't working on the same account, he always considered Peggy on his team. Duck had noticed it, all those years ago. A "special relationship" he'd called it, or something like that.

Pete finally stood up and wandered over to the window. He hated these feelings, but he couldn't help himself. He never could around Peggy. He always tended to say what was really on his mind around her. Whether they were fighting about accounts or ideas or their opinions on other people, Peggy still had the ability to make him feel.

Looking out the window, Pete stared down at the tiny figures on the street, each rushing about their day as if a bombshell hadn't been dropped. This was ridiculous, he should be planning the future of his career but all he could think about was Peggy. Would he still be able to see her everyday, her charming smile, her beautiful eyes, the way that little girl hugged her like it was the most natural thing in the world. The scene he'd witnessed after coming up the stairs kept replaying in his head, interrupting all other thoughts. The little girl even looked the right age, how could he not see that and think about the life not lived? If things had happened differently, if he'd been different, would that little girl be hugging Peggy every night before bed? Actually, he didn't even know if their child was a boy or girl. No. Stop. Don't think like that. Why did he have to call Peggy into his office and talk to her, he should know by now that it usually left him feeling despondent.

In the end he decided that he told Peggy the news because she knew what this meant for him. Because she would understand how he would feel about this. After all, she really knew him.

Peggy had barely worked the rest of the day. She was emotionally drained between finding out the news about McCann, and revealing her past to Stan. Although it was brought up because of a fight, she knew that Stan understood and now accepted her feelings and decision. But now she was alone in her office, it was dark outside and she only had her thoughts and her glass of scotch to comfort her.

Even after everything else that had happened, Peggy kept going back to her conversation with Pete on the couch. The news was bad but talking with him, being alone and having an honest conversation with him, was nice. They had been fighting just a few days before, as they often did when it came to work decisions. He wanted to fire one of her writers, but she refused to back down. They fought right in front of Don, and when she won the argument they marched their separate ways, like two children whose playground fight was settled but just for a moment.

A tiny part of her took pleasure in it. Evoking the indignation, the anger, the emotion. He used to be such a mystery, but now she reveled in the fact that she could evoke such a display of emotion in him. If she were some kind of psychologist, she would probably attribute that to the first couple of years of their relationship. She never knew what he was feeling back then. It wasn't until that fateful evening on the couch, when he confessed his unexpected feelings and she ultimately told him about the pregnancy, that she finally understood why he was the way he was. Now she always knew what he was feeling. It's surprising but it's true. She really knows him. Peggy suddenly sat straight up in her chair, eyes wide. It was as if everything in her brain just clicked, and all the thoughts she'd been trying to understand suddenly became clear. She had somewhere she needed to be.

In a midtown Manhattan apartment building with clean walls and dim lighting, Peggy Olsen marched as quickly and quietly as she could. She was spurred on partially by the alcohol and adrenaline in her veins, but mainly by the eagerness she was feeling due to her revelation. She knocked three times on the door at the end of the hallway.

The door opened and a confused, tired looking Pete Campbell opened the door. His blue eyes opened even wider when he processed who was standing in front of him. Peggy grinned.

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you tonight."

"Really?"

She stepped closer to him, close enough that their bodies were less than an inch away from touching. She looked him square in the eyes.

"I had to see you."

A slow grin finally spreads across Pete's face, and he smiles genuinely at her before taking her hand. He pulls her inside, and she laughs as the door swings shut behind them.