A/N: Thanks to iloveromance for the wonderful beta support and feedback, and to mitzijem for the faithful reviews that mean so much.

Don looked at the office clock, reading 5:05 on a Friday evening. After a week of uncertainty, a decision was made by the principle men at Sterling Cooper to strike out on their own before being sold off, along Putman Powell and Lowe to McCain Erikson. The thought of working for another agency wasn't appealing either of the Sterling Cooper founders, both of whom were bound to find themselves iced out once the end of their contracts were fulfilled. Rather than work for yet another ad agency, Don had suggested buying Sterling Cooper for themselves, before the sale was final. Once Lane Pryce had fired the principles, they were free to go start their own ad agency, hereby released from any obligation to the British. The name of the new agency was going to be Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce.

Don and Roger had spent most of the day deciding which employees to take with them to the new firm. At Roger's instance, Pete Campbell was selected over Ken Cosgrove as their account man. Don had spent the rest of the day attempting to convince his unofficial protégée Peggy Olson to be one of their head copywriters, but she had turned him down, which wound up damaging his ego once more.

The weekend was going to be spent collecting necessary files and rummaging the offices, enough to make it seem like a break-in to the rest of the staff members the following Monday.

The drive home proved uneventful, with a majority of city civilians either working late or already gone on the road for the evening. Don pulled into the driveway and straightened his hat. He was going to have to tell her what was going on, he couldn't afford, nor did he want to keep any more secrets. All it did was keep them farther apart. But he didn't know what she was going to say when he told her.

Betty had been more silent than usual since the Christmas party. Don had chalked it up to holiday stress. Maybe he had pushed her too hard to forgive him, but they couldn't stay distanced forever; he couldn't. He needed her.

"Welcome home," Betty called out from the kitchen. "Pot roast is just about ready."

"Sounds great," Don mused, walking up the stairs.

Betty watched him go up the stairs.

"Mommy, I want to help with dinner!"

Betty turned to look down at her daughter, lifting a bowl of carrots off the counter. "I want you to count out four carrots for everyone," she instructed, following Don up to the old nursery

Sally's loud counting could be heard from the kitchen as Don removed his shoes and coat.

"Don," Betty called to him from the doorway.

He didn't respond to her as he walked to the mirror.

Betty stepped into the bedroom. "What's wrong?"

Don turned to his wife. "You think something's wrong?"

Betty placed her hand on her hip. "Am I wrong?"

Don shook his head and sat down on the bed, beckoning for her to join him. "How much time do we have before dinner?"

"Sally's counting carrots and other things; I'd say we have ten minutes," Betty said with a smile.

"This would take longer than ten minutes."

"Dinner will keep for a few extra minutes."

Don let out a small laugh. "And here I thought you didn't care about me."

Betty lowered her head ever so slightly.

Don touched the small of her back. "I shouldn't have said that."

Betty raised her head. "We both said things we shouldn't of. That night…the night of Kennedy's funeral, I didn't mean what I said."

"I didn't think you did," Don said gently, flashing his wife a small smile.

"Really?"

"I didn't want to think that," Don clarified.

"I was so frightened….I still am."

Don wrapped one arm around Betty, pulling her closer to him. "You don't have to be alone."

Betty nodded her head, leaning closer to Don's chest. "I thought I was here to cheer you up."

"You have," Don drawled.

Betty's eyes searched Don's for something, anything, a sign from the sky to tell her that he was earnest. "What happened to you today?"

Don rested his forefinger under Betty's chin, rubbing it ever so gently. "You may be getting your chance to fall in love with the poor, uneducated farm boy."

"I don't understand," Betty said softly, her gaze never leaving his.

"Sterling Cooper is being sold off."

"But you're under contract."

"I'm under contract with McCann Erikson and the thought of that didn't appeal to me," Don said slowly.

"What did you do?"

"I am going to be a pioneer – with Roger, Bert, and Lane. We're starting our very own ad agency."

"Can you do that?" Betty asked softly. "Break your contract."

"Lane fired me, I'm a free agent," Don smiled. "Back to nothing."

"How do you feel about that?"

"Confident," Don smiled. "All I need is my beautiful wife to stand with me."

Betty let out a small laugh. "I did promise you for richer or poorer."

"We're not exactly poor," Don corrected her. "But there's no telling how the new agency will fare – we've got quite a lot of competition."

"Then the competition had better look out, because I've heard you're a bit of a legend," Betty said with a smile.

"Am I really?"

Betty nodded her head.

"We'll be okay," Don assured her.

Tears began to well behind Betty's eyes.

"Sweetheart –"

"I would have loved you if you were a pauper."

"Well now I know," Don said gently, wiping a stray tear that rolled down Betty's cheek.

"No more secrets," Betty said, drying her eye.

"No more secrets." Don sealed his promise to her with a kiss on the mouth.

Betty gently pushed at Don's chest. "What about dinner?"

"Are you hungry?"

"I was thinking of the children," Betty gently chided. "Sally must have counted everything in the kitchen by now."

Don stood and helped Betty off the bed. "Then let's eat. And then come back for dessert."

Betty wordlessly agreed, taking Don's arm.

To Bobby and Sally, it was an ordinary dinner, but the grownups saw things differently. Betty was finally able to look at Don, really look at him without her anger and regret. Don was able to gaze upon her, knowing that she did love him, and that hope was not yet lost.

Goodnights were given by both parents after dinner. Betty shyly took Don's arm. "Do you think you'd be willing to come back to the bedroom?"

"I've been waiting for you to ask that for weeks," Don grinned, more than willing to take her up on her offer. "We'll move the crib back to the nursery."

"Would you mind putting Gene to bed? There's something that I need to do."

Don nodded his head, cradling his son in his arms. He could see the new life with baby Gene, the new opportunities that had presented themselves. Walking to the nursery, Don felt a lightness in his heart that he hadn't felt in months.

After ensuring that his youngest was asleep, Don walked down the dim lite hall to the bedroom, pausing at the door. He was unsure of how to proceed with Betty. Don opted for caution, gentling rapping at the door to signal that his presence.

"Come in."

Don opened the door and stood in awe of his wife, dressed in a sheer light pink nightgown.

"Do you like it?" she asked softly. "I bought it several months ago, before I was pregnant with Gene, and I guess I never found an occasion to wear it."

Don said nothing, slipping his shoes off and removing his tie. Don leaned into Betty's mouth. "I love it. It's just a shame that it has to come off."

"If you insist," Betty countered, unbuttoning Don's dress shirt.

Don threw his shirt onto the floor and slipped off his pants, climbing onto the bed and pulling Betty in for a deep kiss. Tonight there were going to be no interruptions.

"I've missed you," Betty sighed between kisses. "Did you miss me?"

"Every day," Don drawled. "We'd be in the same room and yet so far away from each other." Don protectively covered Betty's body with his own. "Your father was right about you."

"You're thinking about my father?" Betty asked dubiously.

"He always said that you were a princess."

"Am I?"

Don answered her with a kiss. "My princess," he declared, coming up for air.

Betty turned off the lamp on the nightstand, turning over. "It feels amazing when you say that."

"Then I'll make sure to say it more often."

Peals of laughter could be heard into the night, marking what seemed to the end of a dark period in the Draper marriage. What neither party could be sure of, was how long it would last.