There was a thud coming from the other room in the office. It clanged loudly at first, and then the soft shuffling of shoes and the occasional closing of a door could be heard. Roger Sterling was half awake on his work sofa, dreaming of a better time, back in the 50's when his company belonged to him and Bert Cooper. The old fuddyduddy did hardly anything anyways. He dreamt fondly of Joan, their passionate affair, the mink coat he bought her, her curls. He dreamt of Mona, the wife of his child. He remembered meeting her at a small bar in a lazy town in upstate New York.

There was another door being slammed somewhere further from Roger's office. The commotion was enough to rouse him from his sleep. "What the hell?" he mumbled looking down to his watch: 5:30 AM. Roger yawned, stretching his arms out and working a kink out from his neck. After standing, he made his way towards the door, and opened it cautiously. The main hall outside his room was absent., as was the creative room, Joan's office, and Don's office. After searching quietly for the culprit of the noise, Pete Campbell walked out of Ken Cosgrove and Mike Falco's office. He looked at Roger quizzically for a moment, and the spoke,

"What are you doing here?"

"I could as you the same thing." Roger moved towards Pete.

"I asked you first."

"Wife kicked me out. What's your story."

"Getting a jump start on Viacynth..." He turned to look behind himself. "Herbert Kingsley is coming in again tomorrow. I'm trying to find something to... woo him."

"Good. Joan didn't go for the date then."

"Clearly not, or I wouldn't be here." Pete said, angrily.

"I thought your charm would have landed the account by now." Roger reached into his pocket, pulling out a Players and lighting it.

"I'm trying." He said huffing under his breath. "Kingsley isn't cooperative at all. He keeps changing his mind. I think he's just here to see our resident redhead."

"Who isn't." Roger smiled, exhaling a plum of smoke in the dim light. He took notice that Pete had a hand behind his back.

"Whatcha got there." Roger pulled the cigarette from his lips and pointed to Pete's hidden hand.

"Just a payroll slip." Pete looked behind Roger. "I should get back to work."

"Payroll doesn't come out until Monday." Roger took a step towards Pete who leaned away slowly.

"It's... it's an old one I forgot to pick up last week."

"Show it to me."

"I hardly think that's necessary Roger..."

The older man was now just a foot in front of him. "Show it to me." He repeated, this time much louder.

Pete suddenly arched his head behind from Roger and contorted his face.

"Don? What are you doing here?"

Roger turned around quickly to spot the second man, but there was none. In the time it took Roger to spin back again, Pete had bolted off towards the secondary hall. He huffed quickly, butting the cigarette into an ashtray and took off to follow Pete.

"You're just making this harder on yourself kid." Already, Roger could feel his heart rate jumping and his palms sweating. Campbell had taken off down the secondary corridor, around the creative room and towards the primary hallway once again. Sterling was gaining on him; clearly Pete had no plan.

"What are you doing Pete?"

The young man plowed through the Xerox room doors and then slammed it closed. Roger reached the door moments later.

"Pete, open the damn door." Roger slammed his fist onto the wood, and tried cranking the handle, but it wouldn't budge. "Pete!" Roger screamed. "Open the door, or I'll have you on the review board and fired in two hours."

"For what Roger? I haven't done anything?"

"Then why are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding." Pete began. "I'm just copying something... to show you."

"Then just let me in so I can see it." Roger replied. Pete didn't respond, so he began bashing against the door.

"I'm almost done!..." Pete said impatiently.

"Too bad." Roger replied. With a swift movement he had grabbed a secretaries chair, and brought it down full swing against the door handle which snapped off like a pin ring. The door naturally swung open, and Roger moved inside. The Xerox machine was running at full swing printing multiples copies of a document. Roger ran over, turning off the machine.

"What the hell are you doing." He picked up a copy to see it was the multiple of a negative. "Reprints?" Roger's face contorted in confusion. He placed the pictures down on the surface of the machine, looking outside.

"The alcohol." He muttered, reaching down to open the machine's ethyl alcohol tray. Among the watery substance was a lengthy rectangular piece of paper. Roger reached in, and removed it. It was a blank cheque.

"Forgeries hey?" Roger smiled. "That's a new game for you."

"Advances." Pete sighed. "Just advances."

"When people come in Monday, you're fired." Roger turned from the room and walked down the hall towards his own.

"You can't prove anything. The cheque is blank."

Sterling froze, and turned towards Pete.

"I'm sure everyone at the office would like to know about your cheque advances."

"Fine." Pete muttered. "What do you want." He sputtered reluctantly.

"Your partnership. Monday, resign as partner, and take your old job as head of accounts."

"Ridiculous!" Pete shouted. "Besides, Kenny Cosgrove already has that job."

"Good for Ken. His years of loyalty paid off. We'll make him partner tomorrow."

"This is inhumane Roger! All I did was forward money to myself that I earned!"

"Illegally," Roger trumped. "Without approaching the board. The sad things is, we probably would have given you the advances you needed."

Pete sighed. "Alright. Head of Accounts. I want a contract written up tomorrow. Ten years."

Roger raised his hand and spread his fingers, clicking his tongue. "Five years, non-Compete."

"Non-compete." Pete Campbell nodded in defeat.

"Done." Roger smiled. Pete's face held a look of disbelief and sadness. The sly dog had been beaten.

Suddenly Roger's head began pouding as he looked at Pete.

"What are you looking at old man? You've won." Pete said sarcastically. The pouding continued in Roger's head and began moving down his arm, as he could feel a tingling sensation in his left fingertips.

"I'm... not.." He mumbled.

"What are you on about? Forgot to take your medication?" Pete smirked.

Roger clutched his chest. The pouding ran to his heart and he could feel the world sliping away from him. Tunnel vision flashed in his eyes.

"Call... the hospital." He managed, before collapsing against the desk.

Pete back away from the crumpled man, and looked down in fear.

"Call... the damn... hospital." Roger huffed.

Pete reached for the telephone dialing 911, and summoning an ambulance. He hung up the receiver and looked down to Roger.

"It's a heart attack, haven't you ever seen someone go through a heart attack?" Roger grimaced in pain.

"No." Pete blurted.

"Well..." he inhaled once deeply. "Now you ha..." Before Roger could finish his sentence, the tunnel vision consumed his whole view and he descended into darkness."


Peggy Olson had gathered her things as she returned home with her boy that Friday afternoon. She enjoyed meeting with her son, regretted not a moment of it, but now needed to head home. She already felt the withdrawal from the big city to the smaller town. She said her goodbyes to her son the following morning, calling him her brother, and kissed her mother goodbye as the cab pulled up.

"Please call, let me know things." She looked to her mother pleadingly.

"Alright."

Robin waved excitedly to the taxi as it pulled out onto the roadway.

The trip back was a breeze to Peggy. Relief washed over her as she felt the sense of rectification. Her son would know her, even as a sister. He would know who she was, and what she was like. Peggy would not go the rest of her life wondering what the story regarding her son was.

"We're here ma'am." the taxi driver said.

"Sorry?" Peggy came back to earth. "That was an hour?"

"And fifteen minutes. Traffic was terrible on the highway in to the city."

"Oh, alright." She took a twenty from her purse and gave it to the driver. "Keep the change."

"Thank you ma'am." The small man smiled at Peggy as she stepped out onto the curb. The little taxi sped away, leaving her in front of the Met Life building at 6:00am.

"Shit." She muttered. "I must have said work, instead of home." She scolded herself.

Peggy took the elevator to the SCDP floor and walked into the egress. Lights are on here... she thought. "Hello?" Peggy said, entering the creative room. There was silence, yet most of the main lighting was up.

"Hello?" She said, louder. Peggy walked down the hall towards her office, twisting the handle and opening it. Before she could walk in, she saw a distant object lying on the floor. it startled her at first, and then she slowly made her way over. Lying collapsed and white as a sheet way Roger Sterling.

"Oh god..." she covered her mouth. Leaning over she felt his forehead, he was cool.

"Oh god..." Tears began welling in her eyes. "He's dead... Roger's dead. I have to call Don. I have to call Don." She turned around, nearly throwing up into her hands, and made her way to Megan's desk, where she dialed Don's home phone; the number she grabbed from a small piece of paper. The phone line began ringing and as it rang, a group of men in white shirts, whom she assumed were paramedics rushed through the office.

"Hello!" One of the men screamed. "We're from the NYP." Another voice shouted.


The sun had not yet made it's daily appearance on the fringes of the horizon in chilly Ossining when the hallway phone began ringing in Don Draper's house. it rang out twice before Don was roused from sleep by the disturbance. He reached his hand out, feeling the warmth of his ex-wife's naked body beside his.

"Phone, Don.." She muttered, rolling over onto her chest. Don leaned over, kissing her neck; Betty smiled. Don pulled himself from bed, and slipped on underwear. He opened the door, cautiously; the phone was still ringing. He moved quietly to the phone and picked up the receiver.

"Hello." He said.

"Don? It's Peggy."

"The sun isn't even up. Why are you calling me?"

"It's Roger... he's..."

"He's what." Don could feel the worry rising and adrenaline begin pumping.

"He's dead, I think he's dead... I found him this morning."

"Where?" Don shouted. "When did you find him?"

"Two minutes ago." Peggy's voice was shaken; it rattled in her throat. "He's pale as a ghost, lying on the ground at work."

"Have you called the ambulance?"

"They just walked in, I pointed them to Roger..."

"What else Peggy? What happened?" Don could see a head popping out from Sally's door and her face was contorted in confused sleep.

"Nothing, I don't know Don. I just got here. He must have called the ambulance before he passed out, or died, I don't know!" She shouted.

"Alright, calm down."

Sally had now walked out from her room and towards Don.

"Who's on the phone?" Sally asked, wiping sleep from her eyes.

"Work. Go back to bed." Don pointed to her room.

"At six o'clock on Saturday?" Sally muttered.

Don moved the receiver away from his mouth. "Urgent work, now go back to sleep."

"Are you there Don?" Peggy said.

"Yes, I'll meet you at the hospital. I'll be there in 45 minutes."

"Alright." Peggy hung up the phone.

"Who's in the hospital?" Sally asked.

"Go back to bed." Don said more sternly. "A work friend. He's sick."

"Alright." Sally waddled back to her room slowly and shut the door. Don replaced the receiver and walked back to his room, rummaging through his clothes to find a shirt and tie. Betty rolled over in bed.

"Where are you going?" She mumbled into then pillow.

"The hospital, Roger's in trouble."

"How much trouble?" Betty lifted her body and faced Don.

"Peggy said he was dead." Betty jumped from bed.

"He's dead?!"

"I don't know Betts, that's why I'm going to the hospital."

"Alright," she paused. "I'm coming with you." she went to grab her undergarments and and clothes. Don stopped and watched her slip her clothes on. "What?" she said.

"Well, you don't have to come."

"Roger was a dear friend of mine when we were married. If he's ill, I'm not going to let him leave without saying goodbye."

Don turned and faced the mirror doing up his tie.

"Henry won't be upset?"

"I think it's a little late for that. He's probably still at work anyway." Betty's mouth contorted as she attempted to zip a side skirt. "Help me, will you?"

"You're lucky I kept your clothes."

"You'd never get rid of them." She said. "What will we tell the kids?"

"It's six. They won't be up for a while, we will be back before breakfast."

"Alright." She pursed her lips, rolling on a rose lipstick. She smacked her lips and turned to Don. "You drive."

She threw him the keys and walked out of the room. Don smiled.