When Don woke up Saturday morning, he wasn't surprised to find some strange brunette in his bed. Lindsay. Her name was Lindsay. He had gone to a bar to sort out his head, although he wasn't sure what he was clearing out. He just knew that he felt some disquiet rumbling deep within him, and usually a few drinks managed to buy him some time before he had to feel it again. What usually quashed it for the entire evening was taking some beautiful young woman home.

This evening was different, however. The chase, the conversation, the build up to taking her home was as titillating as always, but once he started to undress her everything had felt so bland and mundane. Like getting dressed in the morning. He had finished as quickly as he could, and then acted out of obligation when Lindsay had complained that she hadn't gotten hers, but for some reason it wasn't as gratifying as it usually was. She had fallen asleep and he had stared at the ceiling, debating internally about whether to kick her out right then or wait for the morning. However, Don knew it would be cruel to send her home at 3am, so he had simply ruminated until he managed to drift off.

He gently shook Lindsay's shoulder until she woke up. She turned her sleepy head towards him, and smiled. "Hey sexy."

"Hey." Don replied. "I don't want to rush you, but I have to go into the office today." Lindsay nodded, and stretched out in the bed, flexing her toes and hands.

"Want one more go before you head in?" She asked. Don shook his head.

"Sorry sweetheart, I'm already running late."

Don wasn't really going to the office. He needed a break. The entire creative team needed one, really, but Peggy would call him if the they needed something signed off on before Monday. No, Don reflected as he shaved. Going to the movies would clear his head.

Peggy sighed as she heard another knock at her office door.

"Come in." She said irritably, and was relieved to see Pete Campbell poke his balding head in. "Oh, thank God." She moaned. Pete raised an eyebrow.

"Don't mind the crazy cat lady in the corner." Stan replied affably. "She's had a hard week, apparently."

"Well then, I'm sure you're excited for next weekend to come up." He said with a pointed look at Peggy. She shot him a blank look. "Remember? We're flying to Ohio to pitch for Ciba? You, me, Don, Harry, Stan? This Thursday we are flying out? Presenting on Friday? Returning on Saturday?"

"Oh Jesus Christ." Peggy moaned, collapsing on her desk. "I had forgotten about that."

"Really?" Pete asked. "We're pitching to our first drug company, and it just slipped your mind? I hope the creative part didn't happen to fall through that sieve as well."

"Pete, why are you here on a weekend? You're never here on a weekend." Peggy snapped.

"I'm playing golf with Nabisco." Peter said smugly. "I just needed to stop by and grab the paperwork for them to sign."

"Then go get it!" She shouted. "Aren't you going to be late?"

"If the boards aren't approved by Don by the end of Monday, I am going to have the entire creative team fired." Pete snapped back.

"Go hit some wildlife with your golf balls Pete." He shot a death glare at Peggy, and slammed the door as he left.

"Whoa." Stan wheeled his chair until he was on the other side of Peggy's desk. "You are on edge today Peg. Why didn't you tell him it had all been signed off on and it was ready to go?"

"I'm just sick of this place." She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "We really need more people to be hired on creative. We've signed over seven million dollars in new business in the last month, and we're going after Ciba, and yet our team isn't getting any bigger."

"I'm just glad they don't have Harry's computer taking over creative." Stan responded.

"Well Harry's machine can only work 24 hours in a day, so they're stuck with us until they combine our offices to make space for a new one."

"Peggy, relax." Stan said. He went back to his desk and pulled out a joint. "Here, I think all the extra work is getting to you." Peggy snatched the joint from his fingers and pulled out a lighter.

"Is Pete gone?" She asked. Stan shrugged.

"Like that clown knows what grass smells like anyway." Peggy finally smiled and put the joint between her lips.

Don left 'Love Story' feeling a sort of melancholy. Although he would never admit it to anyone, he loved romance movies, probably for how shitty they made him feel afterwards. He always felt like a peeping tom, watching people strip down and lay out the most intimate, heartbreaking parts of themselves. An outsider looking into the world of people who knew how to love. There were very few moments he had genuinely connected with someone else, and never with anyone he had made love to. He had thought that sharing about his past, his secret shame, would bring out some sort of healing in him, but the more he talked about it the more empty and cheap his words felt. He seemed to be back at square one, except that now Anna was gone and no one else truly knew him. He could talk about Dick Whitman all he wanted, but as he had learned, talking about events had not built intimacy. As fond as he was of Roger, the man lacked the emotional intelligence to build any foundation only person he really felt any sort of connection with these days was Peggy. If Rachel hadn't died, he imagined that she would have truly known him. And yet, that scared him. He had had the time to create a relationship with her. But her probing questions, her icy intuition, scared him, and he had felt naked and vulnerable, and he had let the chance slip away. His relationship with Peggy was sometimes sharp, but always had a genteelness about it. It was never demanded more of him than he could give, and yet it always had room for him to grow.

The Hugo Boss campaign. He should check in on that. It had to be ready by Monday. Without thinking, he crossed his apartment to the phone, and called the office.

"Peggy Olson's office." He smiled, and he wasn't sure why.

"Hello Peggy." He cradled the receiver between his head and shoulder, reaching for a glass and some rye. There was a moment of silence.

"Hello Don. Why are you calling me on a Saturday? Shouldn't you be spending time with your kids or something?"

"No. Betty and Henry took them for a weekend holiday." He replied, pouring his drink. "I knew you'd be at the office."

"Yes, well, someone had to work on this over the weekend."

"How is it going?"

"Surprisingly well. I have a couple of ideas that I think will be good. Stan is really churning out the storyboards. I think he's going to get carpal tunnel syndrome."

"Think?" Don asked. "Good?" Peggy sighed on the other end of the line.

"I'm really not sure exactly what is a great idea and what is a horrible idea anymore. Some moments I look at something and I think 'This is the idea that will get me a Clio.' Then I look at it after a drink and a cigarette, and I think 'Toilet paper. The agency is going to cut costs by using this shit as toilet paper.'" Don smiled again.

"We've had this conversation before. The best idea always wins. That's why you have creative teams. The best floats to the top." Peggy laughed.

"I guess your job is to fish it out of the bowl then?" Don took a sip.

"That is why they pay me the big dollars."

"I think this conversation just killed my appetite."

"Good. By cutting out dinner you can get it all done and have Sunday off." Peggy sighed, and Don felt her disapproval. If he had learned nothing else, he knew not to undervalue Peggy's work ethic and creativity. "Why don't you take Tuesday off? We'll throw a couple of pitches to Hugo on Monday, and when you return to work on Wednesday we'll run through the Cibo pitch before heading out on Thursday."

"That would work." Peggy said simply.

"Do you want me to come in and look at your ideas?"

"No. We have quite a few, we'll be able to pitch the great ones when you review them on Monday."

"OK." He waited until he heard the click of Peggy hanging up her receiver before hanging up his own.