A/N: Spoiler for 318 "The San Lorenzo Job". Again, nothing is mine except the mistakes.

She found him in the balcony, a glass of wine in hand, staring at the dim light of the night out there.

She went on, and stood beside him. "You shouldn't be drinking, Michael, on the night before the election. Not good for your public image."

He turned to face her, and she caught the slight weariness in his eyes.

"Tomorrow is the day." He said, not in the speech tone he carried a lot these days, but low and full of unsureness like the first time she trained him for his speech, "I never thought I could make this far."

"I know." She smiled at him, "But this is amazing, isn't it?"

He matched her smile, "I started this only to be a different voice, you know, among the dictators drug dealers and drug addicted. I never expected to win. But yeah, this is amazing."

"You're the voice of truth, Michael, and the truth will shine, remember?"

He chuckled, "Right, the slogan my grandma never said."

"Michael, you will win tomorrow," She reached over, smoothing his lapel for him, and looked up to him with all the warmth and assurance she had, "We'll make sure you do."

"Rebecca," He hesitated. She noticed his hand was shaking a little and he swallowed. "What if, I want to keep my campaign promise, if I win?"

"Michael, you will win," She tried again (and he didn't argue with her this time), but there was something in his eyes alert her and drew her in at the same time. "Which campaign promise?"

"That we're engaged," He caught her wrist, tentative at first, but then warm and solid. His long finger gently brushed over her pulse point. She could sense the faint smell of liquor in his breath (and that reminded her of Nate) . "That I'm gonna marry you."

That startled her a little. But she was so used to this, man looking at her with sincerity, calling her by the name she didn't belong. And she played along, getting whatever she wanted.

But not this time.

She withdrew her hand sharply, and saw regret and sadness flashing over his face. "We can't Michael, I can't."

"Because of him, Mr Draper?"

She didn't expect this insight of him, but she wasn't really surprised.

"No, Michael, 'cause we coned the people to believe this is true, but I don't want to con you to believe it."

"What if you didn't? What if it-it isn't you?" He slurred his words a bit, but his eyes are bright and confident and determined. No more the man who ran away from the stage. "What if it's me, me wanting you to be my first lady, to stand beside me, to help me?"

It's not in her plan to break a man's heart in the middle of a con, but right now, Sophie or Rebecca, she saw no easy way out. She wished she had a better answer, she really do.

"I can't. I don't belong here. But you do." She took the glass from his hand, then leaned in and touched his cheek briefly, "Now go get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."

And then she walked away.

When she was back to her room, she found Nate waiting for her.

"Where did you go?" His voice was a little drier than usual.

"Just prep Michael for tomorrow." She shrugged.

She could feel his gaze burning on her skin, but she revealed nothing.

He backed off first, but his eyes didn't leave her. "Listen, if things get ugly, turn Vittori loose."

"No." She said in disbelief.

"If things get too hot, they're gonna come after him hard."

"Nate, we can't. For him, for the people."

He stepped closer to her, breath warm on her face. "Would you take a bullet for him, Sophie?"

Looking right into his eyes, she answered, "Maybe."