January, 1964

"Betty." Don huffed into the receiver. "She's here."

"Oh thank God." She said. There was a brief silence. "How long ago did she arrive?"

"Ten minutes."

"Thank goodness. I can't believe she just left."

"What were you doing?" Don asked.

"W-what do you mean?"

"I mean how did she get out of your sight long enough to ride the train from Ossining?"

"I don't know. I was busy. I'm sorry."

On the other end of the line, Henry Francis was asking to take the receiver from Betty. She swatted his hand away.

"I wasn't paying attention, it won't happen again."

"Do I need to get a sitter for the kids, Birdie?"

"No." She shouted. "It was a lapse in judgement, it won't happen again. Stop making me feel poorly about it." Henry reached over, and pulled the receiver from her hand.

"It was an accident. We were preparing for the morning, she was asleep in her room."

"When my daughter comes crying to me at work, saying her mother doesn't want her at home anymore, I start to wonder what's going on." Don said, angrily.

Henry looked over to Betty with some confusion, he reached into his memory briefly.

"You know kids. They exaggerate things all the time. Betty would never say that."

"How often does Sally run away from home?"

"Never…"

"I don't want you, or Betty, discussing your personal lives in front of my children."

"I don't think you really have any say in what my wife and I discuss in front of the children." Henry snapped back.

"My children." Don said. There was a silence on the line. Betty came back on.

"Stop. This is useless. Henry and I will come to your office to pick her up. You're at the Pierre, right?"

He hesitated. "Room 465."

"We will be there in a bit. Tell Joan to occupy her until then, or something."

"Goodbye." Don placed the receiver back into the chuck.


"You know, you're pretty cool." Sally smiled. "I wish you were my sister, rather than Bobby. Bobby smells weird. And he always touches sticky things and annoys me."

"Most brothers do." Kaye replied, licking the ice cream from her cone.

"Do you have any brothers?"

Sally and Kaye were walking back into the elevator, and ascending to the 4th floor of the Pierre.

"I had one, he was much older than me. My parents had me late in life. He died when I was very young."

"I'm sorry. I bet he was really cool." Sally smiled.

"I think he was." Kaye starred blankly at the wall.

"Do you have any other family?" Sally looked up to Kaye.

"My sister, Elena. She lives in Connecticut."

"Do you see her very often?"

"No. I left home a while ago."

"Oh. Okay." Sally paused. "You ran away like me."

Kaye said nothing.

The elevator door dinged and slid open. They walked into the egress and then down the corridor to Room 465. Kaye opened the door. Joan looked up briefly and then back down to her work. Kaye continued licking the ice cream and looked at Pete Campbell who's lower lip quivered. There were loud shouts coming from the bedroom down the hall.

"Who's here?" Kaye asked Joan.

"Mr. and Mrs. Francis. Sally's mother."

"What's she like?" Kaye looked away from Joan to the door. Joan turned slowly.

"Exactly the person you expect."

There was a momentary silence. Kaye grabbed Sally by the hand, their ice creams in the other, and they strolled to the bedroom. Kaye swung the door open and they entered, mid-stream.

"… And why would she say that?" Don snapped at Betty. She was standing in front of his desk. Henry was near the drinks cart. Gazing out the window. He was handsome, Kaye thought. In some older, experienced man type of way. She assumed this was why Betty had chose him.

"It was an accident…"

"No, it wasn't." Sally said, definitively. Betty turned to face the voice of her daughter. Betty pursed her lips tighter, noticing Sally holding the young woman's hand. "Henry said, 'I wish she was gone' and you said 'I wish that too'. So there. Your wish was my command."

"You have quite the cheek for someone who's in an incredible heap of trouble, young lady." Henry boasted.

"Betty can discipline our daughter perfectly fine."

"I'm just pointing it out." He replied, looking back into the abyss of the city. Sally let go of Kaye's hand.

"You can tell your secretary to leave, Don." Betty was staring at her daughter, unwaveringly. Kaye turned beet red.

Don motioned for the door.

"I'm the Assistant Director." Kaye looked at Betty.

"Does that really matter at this point?" Betty scolded the young woman. Kaye flushed, turned, and shut the door. She stood momentarily in the hall, unmoving, calculating her next move. Speeding over towards Joan, she spoke quietly.

"Did Mrs. Francis leave her bag out here?"

"Yes, it's hanging by the coat rack." Joan didn't bother looking up from her Rolodex.

"Oh good. She needs something." Kaye grabbed the bag, moved down the hall, and her ice cream beginning to melt in her left hand. She entered the Media bedroom. Harry was busy typing away.

"Can I help?" Harry asked as she closed the door. She said nothing, but placed the bag down in front of him.

"Don't say anything."

"Uh…. Okay." A perplexed look crossed his face and he continued typing.

Kaye opened up Betty's bag to find a host of items. Her billfold, cheques, lipstick, a silver cigarette case, two gold lighters, some papers, and her licenses. She opened the billfold, and pulled out all the cash. $240 in total. She kept $200 of the sum and replaced the remaining $40.

"Harry, pass me that bottle of whiskey, please."

He reached over to the drinks cart, handing Kaye the large glass bottle. She uncorked the neck, and drank too full swigs of whiskey. She then dumped large dollops of whiskey into Betty's bag. Some hit the paperwork, some her cash, and much of it soiled her cheques. Harry's eyes widened as the madness unfolded in front of him.

"What in God's name are you doing?"

"Teaching someone a lesson." She corked the whiskey once again, handing it back to him. He took it, staring blankly at her.

"Some people learn really quickly with me." She smiled. "Some take time."

After exiting the media room, placing the bag back beside the rack, she went and sat down in her cubicle, tilting the chair. She reached into her clutch and pulled out her flask, downing the entire canister.

"I don't know who to believe." Don said, reclining in his chair. Kaye had just closed the door while leaving.

"You think I would tell our daughter that I didn't want her?"

"I heard you say it. I heard you talking to Henry. You said you wished I was gone, and Henry said it too." Sally stammered in anger.

"I didn't say that." She said to Don, and then repeated it to Sally. "You must have misheard."

"No, you were both speaking really quietly. You were telling secrets. Breathing loudly. You were talking about me so I couldn't hear."

Betty's face flushed bright red. Henry looked quickly to Don who had now stood up.

"While your child is sick upstairs. Really?" Don's voice was calm but a bead of sweat appeared on his temple. His face was red.

"What?" Sally questioned. The silence in the room was deafening.

"Sally, go outside and see Joan for a minute."

"But Dad…"

"Just go, sweetie."

The young girl marched with her head down out the door, and sulked over to Joan's small desk down the hall.

"Don, that was totally uncalled for." Henry spoke up.

"Get out." Don said, pointing to the door.

Henry stood still, his expression perplexed.

"My daughter's sick, you lose her because you're too busy groping each other in my house that I'm paying for, and you have the nerve to speak?"

Henry stood silently. He said nothing, and then walked towards the door.

"I'll see you outside." He murmured to Betty. She nodded to him.

Don walked around the desk, standing in front of Betty. He looked down into her deep blue doe eyes. She was lost and confused, as she had always been.

"Don't ever let this happen again."

She looked down at Don's shoes, frightened in retreat.

"I won't." She muttered.

"And get out of Bullet Park Road. I'm going to sell the house. I'll have the cheque sent once it's sold."

"We don't want anything." Betty looked up to him. "Henry and I have enough to get by without it. We don't need the money."

Don moved once step closer to her, their bodies nearly touching. Betty froze, saying nothing. He broke, moving around her and then slightly opened the door to his office.

"Do you hate me?" Betty asked, turning to face him.

"No." Don said, placidly.

Betty stared into Don's empty eyes. She tilted her head slightly, and then walked out of the open door.

Betty took the bag from the rack, smiling to Joan and taking her daughter's hand. Sally was looking over at Kaye, who was tilting back in her chair, staring at the ceiling silently.

"Come on." Betty prompted Sally to continue moving. She moved along and eventually was swept out of the door with both Henry and Betty. Kaye sat for a long moment in silence.

"Peggy, what are you doing tonight?"

Peggy didn't have time to respond before Kaye replied.

"Nothing. Good. We're no closer to having everything done than we did yesterday. Tonight, we're going out."

"Where?" Peggy said.

"Anywhere. Where's a good place in this town?"

"There's Mulburys." Roger replied from behind his cubicle wall. He stood up, tipping around the corner to see them. "Jane was there the other night. Says it's a quiet little place with good character."

"How far is it?" Kaye asked.

"Worth the drive I'm sure. Am I driving?"

"You're coming too?" Peggy asked.

"And so is Joan." Roger said. "And Don. And Pete. And Lane." Roger said

"I'm very busy, Roger." Joan replied.

"Work mandated outing. Tell Don. And Lane. He'll be out for the afternoon I think. We'll leave at 5:00."


The car ride home was silent, mostly. Sally was in the back seat of Henry's car. She was staring out the window, watching the trees go by. Her thoughts drifted in and out of the afternoon's adventure. She thought of Kaye, and how interesting she was. She smiled, thinking of the ice cream she ate, and then frowned wondering about what punishment awaited her once she got home.

Betty was fuming. The embarrassment was enough to choke her, but the insult of Don's rebuke in front of Henry was far worse.

"How dare you." Betty began from the blue. Henry looked over to her. She stared straight forward. "You made a mockery of me, and your stepfather."

"I didn't mean to." She replied contritely.

"Well you did anyway." She paused. "I don't know what was going through your head."

"You wished I wasn't there, so I granted your wish."

"I did not say that." Betty stammered.

"Yes, you did." Sally asserted. "I heard you whispering downstairs."

"Listening in on our personal conversations is worse, Sally."

A long silence ensued.

"Don't talk so loud when you whisper." Sally interjected.

Betty blurted, "Sally Draper. You are grounded. You aren't leaving the house unless it's for school. You aren't going out with friends, you're not even going to the library."

"Mom!" Sally shouted. "I was just pointing out facts."

"One day, you'll learn when to point out facts and when to keep them to yourself." Betty huffed. Sally moved from the backseat between the two front seats.

"Henry, you have to see how silly this is." Sally scoffed.

"Listen to your mother. She's right." Henry stared at the road ahead.

Sally immediately lashed out, jumping into the front seat. She stared at her mother with an intense look of distaste. Henry thought she was about to attack Betty. He reached over and grabbed Sally's coat back, drawing her towards himself. Sally swung her arms around in fear. She hit Henry's hand, knocking him off of the steering wheel. Henry dropped Sally, and tried to grab the wheel once again. The car had swerved into the oncoming lane, narrowly missing a large truck. The horn blast scared Sally and she screamed. Henry swung the car back into the other lane but he over-corrected and the front wheel skidded on ice over the yellow line.

The car hit the edge of the road and flipped once, twice, three times into the ditch. Sally, Betty and Henry were all thrown from their seats with no control. Time had slowed down for Sally as she saw her mother and stepfather reaching for the seat backs as they flew through the interior. Sally's back hit the roof with a thud, and then she was thrown violently into the floor, cracking her jaw against the seat molding on her way down.

The car came to rest at the edge of a field, laying through an old wooden fence. It was on it roof, steam rising from the engine compartment. Sally shook her head in a daze. Her back hurt, her jaw too. She felt her face and noticed quickly that her hand was covered in hot thick blood. Her heart pounded in her ears and she could hear a high pitched ringing.

"Mom." She said quietly at first, and then repeated it loudly. Betty's body was laying beside her, her face badly bleeding and bruises forming on her neck and face. Henry was not inside the car. "Mom." She repeated, shaking the limp woman beside her. A wave of unabashed terror washed over Sally as the realization of the events came to her.

Betty shook her head lightly, looking at her daughter.

"Where's… Henry…" She managed lightly.

"I don't know… I don't know." Sally repeated. She looked outside the car and could not see anyone. Suddenly thumping footsteps rang out around the car.

"Hello!" the croaky voice was that of an old man. "Is everyone okay in there?"

Sally pulled herself over towards the window which had bent and the glass exploded, due to the pressure. She peered out to see a tall man, in his mid-60s, leaning down to see inside the car. He caught sight of Sally and gasped loudly.

"Oh, Lord." He managed. "Are you alright dear?"

"No." She managed.

"I think your face is broken. Don't talk." The man sputtered. All the blood had drained from his face and he was white as a linen sheet. "Where is your mother? Point."

Sally pointed inside the car.

"Can you climb out of the car? My cars sitting on the shoulder, go lay down in the back seat. I'll pull your mother from the car. Is your father in there too?"

Sally shook her head.

"Oh, Lordy." He leaned down, trying to pull the rear door open. The metal had crushed itself together, and he was unable to pry it away. "I think I saw him a little ways back."

The older man helped Sally from the wreck, and pointed her towards his Plymouth sedan. Sally trudged through the snow, holding her chest which was now covered in blood, and grasping her arm which was weak. She looked down the ditch as she reached the old mans car. She could see a man, lying lifeless in the ditch near the shoulder. She stood for a moment, watching, waiting.


Mulbury's Bar, 51st Street,

Manhattan, New York

The staff of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce had left the quaint offices at the Pierre to lavish good luck upon themselves early in the evening. Don, Roger and Lane drove the ladies; Peggy with Don, Joan with Roger, and Kaye with Lane. Lane was being showy with his Pontiac, roaring through Manhattan. The big six engine screamed into fifty five hundred RPM and Lane downshifted, smiling to himself. Kaye had her mirror out from her clutch and she could hardly finish her lipstick the way Lane was driving.

Once they had arrived at Mulbury's, Roger opened a bottomless tab and doled out the alcohol liberally. There were quite a few other patron's who benefited from loose lips and a coy smile or two towards the gentlemen. Even Peggy had lightened up enough to enjoy herself, and was chatting loudly with a liberal hippy near the end of the bar. Kaye was sitting beside Don in a booth, with him on one side, and Joan on the other. She was three gin and tonics deep when she looked over to Joan, whose demeanour had gone from pleasant and joyful to cold and distant.

"What's wrong?" Kaye leaned over to Joan. Roger and Don were distracted by Pete and a young blonde who were chatting at the edge of the table.

"It's nothing." Joan said, sipping her drink.

"It's not nothing." Kaye finished her fourth gin tonic.

Joan sat in silence for a long moment.

"My husband is here."

"Where?" Kaye said with anticipation.

"Well don't look straight at him. Then he'll know we're talking about him." Joan looked around. "He's at the end of the room near the jukebox."

Standing off beside a small group of gentlemen was Greg Harris. His hair; neatly quaffed, his face; clean shaven. Some of his war cronies were laughing and drinking. He was holding a large schooner of beer.

"Oh he's handsome." Kaye said, her eyes wandering around him.

"Don't let the looks fool you." Joan said, raising her glass slowly.

Greg had obviously noticed them. He was looking Kaye up and down, and then staring at Joan. He noticed Roger, Pete and Don were at or near the table. A work outing, he surmised. He had too much to drink.

"There's a rage inside that man." Joan said, quietly enough to fly under Don's radar, who sat near Kaye. "I think I should go."

"You're leaving now? So soon?" Lane asked. His voice was slightly slurred. He had overheard their conversation and was looming over Joan, standing just outside the table edges.

"Yes, I can see it's time to go." Joan stood up, brushing Lane over. She looked to Greg, and then cycled back to Kaye. There was a moment of great hesitation. "Goodbye."

Don, Roger and Pete were so enraptured with the blonde and her friends they failed to notice Joan leaving.

Kaye had left her Nash at her apartment and was banking on Roger or Lane giving her a ride. She thought of the cold nights spent in the back of her father's saloon car. She was glad things were changing. Even if the guise was thinly veiled.

Suddenly Greg broke off from his cronies. He put the large mug down on the bar, along with a few dollars change. He headed directly for the door. It swung open quickly and came back with a thud. Kaye stood with hesitation and followed Greg out the door. The streets were dark now, dimly lit by passing cars and street lamps. She glanced up and down the packed street, seeing Joan a great leap away and Greg in close pursuit. Kaye began running. Her feet were off balance from the alcohol but the cold wasn't biting her. Within a few steps, Greg had caught up to Joan.

He put his arms underneath hers, and jerked her towards himself. Joan looked up quickly, her eyes darting around. Kaye could see Greg leaning over and whispering something in her ear. Joan slowed her walk and allowed her arm to rest in Greg's. They looked peaceful for a moment.

Kaye rushed across the intersection and was catching up to them now that Greg and Joan were walking very slowly. Greg ushered Joan towards his Chevy sedan.

"Having a night out with the girls and boys, huh?" Greg asked.

"None of your business."

"I was too. I could see you cozied up there next to old Don and Roger. The hounds are still together, are they?"

Joan said nothing but walked in step with Greg as they approached the door to his car.

"We have some things to deal with. Get in."

Joan hesitated.

"Get in." Greg stared at her. Joan grabbed the door handle slowly, looking at him. He ducked inside the car, and rolled the engine over. The car grumbled as it started, misfiring a few times. Joan pulled the door open and sunk into the bench seat beside him.

"Where are we going?" She asked.

"Home."

She said nothing. Kaye was now upon them, standing just out of clear view. Joan looked out the window and noticed her. They locked eyes for a long moment; neither said a word or made a movement. Greg pulled away from the curb, and Kaye slipped out of view.

"I've been trying to get a hold of you." Greg said after a few minutes of driving in silence. "You don't answer the phone at home"

"I've been busy Greg."

"Really? Sales at Bonwit going crazy?

"I don't work at Bonwit anymore." Joan said.

"Oh."

"Shows how much you've been paying attention."

There was a long ensuing silence as they drove towards their apartment. They rolled up outside not long after, and Greg shut out the engine. He opened the door and walked around to Joan's door, opening it for her. She sat for a moment, and then exited. Greg ushered her with a gesture to enter the building.

"I don't know why we had to do this now." Joan questioned.

"You were leaving anyway, why do you care?" Greg slurred some of his words and alcohol reeked from his mouth and clothing.

"Because, I would prefer to deal with this later."

"Just get inside." He swung the door open and waltzed in behind her. "So you cheatin' on me?"

Joan turned slowly.

"What?"

"I said, are you cheating on me? You seem awfully cozy with dear old Don Draper there."

"I'm not his type." She said.

"Not pretty enough?"

"Too familiar."

Joan had placed her purse on the table, and went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

"Nonsense. I see the way everyone looks at you." A brazen smile crossed his face. "All the men get just so hot and bothered by my Joannie." He moved towards the kitchen and began massaging her shoulder and rubbing up and down her arms.

"Not now, Greg. Not while you're drunk. Cool off." Joan drank the rest of the glass, refilled it, and avoided another embrace by moving towards the living room.

"Aw come on Joannie. We've both had a good night, you looked like it. I had some beers with the boys, we both deserve a little compensation for our night, don't you think."

"Greg, I said cool off." Joan sat down on the sofa, kicking off her heels.

"Well, what if I don't want to cool off. What if I want to heat up?" He sat down beside her, running his hand up and down her leg.

"I'm not going to say it again." She took another sip.

Greg rushed his hands up Joan's dress and made a jump towards her womanhood. She immediately took the glass of water and splashed it into his face. He jerked back in a moment of rage and grabbed her arm holding the glass.

"You like playing stupid games?" Greg forced himself on top of her. He grabbed her other arm. "You want to play games like this, huh?" He began shouting.

"Get off of me. Now!" Joan yelled. She began kicking but Greg's legs were much stronger than hers, and he was using them to pin her into the sofa. She began jerking her arms around, attempting to get free. Greg leaned in trying to kiss her vigorously but Joan tilted her head, avoiding his mouth. "Greg, let go, you idiot."

He had relented enough on one of her arms that she took the glass and slammed it into Greg's head. In a daze he recoiled back, clutching the spot where the tumbler had contacted his head and he yelped. The glass fell to the ground near Joan.

"Alright. Now you're gonna get it."

Greg slapped Joan across the cheek quickly, and dragged her body off of the sofa. She screamed briefly as her body hit the rug, and then Greg flipped her over onto her stomach.

"This is what you like, isn't it?" He said. "Always being the damsel in distress?"

"Please stop." She whimpered.

"This is what all the guys at work like, isn't it?" his voice raised again.

Greg tore open the back of her dress, revealing her undershirt, bra and underwear. He began ripping through each of them following.

"Greg, stop it." She said, clutching her cheek.

He continued. Joan yelled for help a few times, but her screams were instantly muffled by Greg grabbing a pillow and shoving her face into it. She screamed even more with no use.

But suddenly, it ended. As fast as it had begun.

A loud snap cracked through the dry air of the Harris' apartment. Greg's carnal rage withdrew, and he slumped on top of Joan. He had loosened his grip on the pillow, and collapsed.

Joan threw the pillow from her face and gasped loudly. She drew in air looking around, and finally stared down at her husband. He was laying motionless, and blood covered his back.

"Oh God…" Joan said, looking around.

Kaye was standing near the doorway. An old Colt pistol was in her hand.