Author's Note: Hey everyone! Thank you so much for your reviews and follows! I am glad that there are people out there enjoying this. In anticipation of the series final tomorrow, I thought I would post this now. I'm currently working on chapter 8, and this is a surprisingly easy story to write for me. So, because I am a shameless attention whore who needs the validation of others, I am implementing a new policy: every time I got a review, I will post a chapter. Terms and conditions: chapters will be posted no earlier than 3 days apart from each other, and the policy will be null and void if you guys catch up to me and I have nothing written. If no one reviews, I will post a chapter, on average, about once a week. Thank you all for your support, and I'll see you after the final episode!

Don was napping on his couch when the buzzer rang.

"Mr. Draper, Mr. Chaough to see you." He rose with a groan and ran a hand over his hair.

"Send him in." Ted opened the door and looked around before stepping in the office.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything." Don shook his head and reached for his cigarettes

"What can I help you with?"

"To be honest, this is a personal matter." Ted replied, closing the door. Don raised an eyebrow.

"I see. Well, have a seat." Ted sat in the chair by the door and looked at the creative director for a moment.

"What?" Don asked, irritated.

"Look, I know you have experience in these types of situations, and I wanted to get your opinion. I... I'm divorcing my wife. Well, the feeling is mutual, really. And the problem isn't really that. It's Peggy." Don raised both eyebrows as he took a drag, and waited for the red head to continue. "I just... I want to make things right with her, and I'm not sure how. I thought that you might know how to best approach her. I mean, you guys have worked together forever." Don exhaled his cigarette smoke, and fixed Ted with a sympathetic yet hard stare.

"What do you mean 'make it right'? Is this a work issue, or is this a romantic one?"

"I don't know." Ted ran a hand through his hair. "I keep thinking that I just want to be able to work with her, but I don't think that is all of it."

"Well, I don't know exactly what your history is..." Don trailed off, staring out the window as he continued to smoke. "But professionally, Peggy will work with you. She won't let the company fail for petty vengeance. Personally... well, one time she dumped her boyfriend over the phone for inviting her mother to her birthday dinner. She did this while her boyfriend and mother were in the restaurant. She is not particularly the forgiving type."

"What's wrong with that?" Ted asked, bewildered. "Women love their mothers."

"Only on their own terms." Don replied.

"Huh." Ted looked at Don thoughtfully, running his finger along the edge of his moustache. "So what should I do?"

"I don't know what you should do. But I know what you shouldn't do. Don't push her. The more you corner her, the worse she bites."

"It's Your Night, It's Your Life." Peggy said, handing Don the advert and stepping back to join John and Stan. Don furrowed his brow as he looked at it. On one side there was a man, dressed in a navy suit with a shot glass in his hand, smiling to a beautiful woman who was obviously entranced by him. On the other side, the same man was dressed in a light grey suit, a knowing smile on his face as he stood in front of a group of executives with the skyline of some generic but scenic buildings behind him.

"And the thought behind this?" Don asked, tapping the ash of his cigarette into his ashtray.

"John, Stan, this was before you were here, but at one time we were creating an ad for Playtex. On one side, we had Marilyn Monroe, and on the other side, Jackie Kennedy. The idea was that every woman was one or the other. However, it was actually the same model for both. I think men are actually much better suited for this idea. Men can have an exciting romantic life, being with as many women as they want, run home to their wives and children, and still be respected at the office. Women can't do this, because they get labelled as either a whore or a selfish, baron matron who has no femininity at all and is trying to do a man's work. This idea shows that Hugo Boss will garner respect when you're out at dinner with a date, or at the office making a presentation. Hugo Boss lets you have it all, and even better than that, you are in control of it. It's your night, and it's your life." Peggy stared her director down, daring him to criticize it. Don gave her a lingering look, and then glanced back at the story boards, taking another drag as he thought.

"So we're plagiarizing ourselves?" He asked idly. She glared.

"That ad never went to print." Don continued gazing at the board.

"Good work." He finally said, and Peggy smiled smugly.

"We were going to have him smoking in the board room, but since you have that entire anti-tabacco thing floating around your head, we decided not to." John added helpfully. Don glanced up.

"You can go." All three turned to leave. Don jutted his chin towards his copy chief. "Peggy, a moment." She returned to her previous spot as Stan and John filed out the door, closing it behind them.

"Yes?" She asked. Don took one last drag and stubbed out his cigarette.

"I don't usually get involved in the workplace dynamics, but it has come to my attention that Ted wants back in your good graces." He said, staring seriously at her. Peggy swallowed hard, and silence hung in the air.

"What about it?" She finally asked. Don stood up and went to his bar and grabbed the neck of his Canadian Club, and turned back around to face her.

"Make him work for it." He held the bottle out to her. "And always have a drink in your hand when you talk to him." She frowned and took the bottle.

"Why?"

"It loosens you up, makes you more confidant. He's sweating bullets trying to make you like him, and you couldn't care less. You're having a nice, leisurely drink. If monkeys didn't have shit to throw at each other, they'd drink to establish dominance." Peggy smiled and looked at the label.

"Don't you have any scotch?" She asked. Don raised an eyebrow, and poured from another bottle of Canadian Club.

"If I thought you would appreciate it, I'd give it to you." She frowned.

"Hey, I know my scotches! I've been working here long enough." Don dropped a few ice cubes in his whiskey and stared at her while taking a drink.

"I'm going to test you on that. If you pass, my personal 21 year old bottle is yours." Peggy rolled her eyes and shook her head, but also noticed that Don was right. Drinking WAS a dominance symbol. Or maybe it was just the way Don drank. Or did anything, really.

"I'll see you at the Hugo Boss meeting." She said evenly as she walked out.

Peggy looked out the window as the plane left the ground in New York. She loved flying, especially the take-off and landing. Stan was next to her, still working on storyboards for other campaigns.

"Peggy." He interrupted. "What do you think of this?" Peggy looked at his drawing of Pete, with an exaggeratedly failing hairline, jerking off the CEO of Nabisco as the man ejaculated cookies.

"Mature, Stan." She tried to sound disgusted, but her smile gave her away. Stan grinned and flipped the page, starting on another creation.

In the row ahead of them, Pete was excitedly talking to Don, his hands movingly wildly. Don was surprised. Pete seemed to be more excited about this pitch than anyone else, and he sensed that there was an underlying history that he didn't know.

"This is a fantastic opportunity." Pete exclaimed, face shining. "Not just for the company, Don, but we could be revolutionizing lives. Think of how many people could benefit from this drug. Most people don't even know that they have a problem! They think that life is terrible and that is just the way it is, but no! They have the chance to be happy, and all it takes is one pill a day. Who would think that you could trick the mind into being happy?" Don nodded, eyeing the younger man as if he was trying to solve a puzzle.

"It is going to be a hard sell. It needs a very delicate hand."

"And who better for that then you and Peggy?" Pete continued. "I mean, all of these other treatments for depression are barbaric! Electroshock therapy, lobotomies? We are in a new era of medicine! And we as an advertising agency can be at the forefront of it! We can destigmatize it! Hell, maybe we can get everyone and their dog taking these drugs! I'd like to be happy all the time."

"We'll have to see. If we get to do the advertising for this drug, it could either be a great success and lead us into doing the advertising for their other products, or it could flop and we brand the company as a leader in taking the money of neurotic housewives." Pete nodded, and for a moment there was silence.

"Have you ever seen someone before and after they've gone through electroshock therapy?" He asked suddenly. Don shook his head. Pete looked at him carefully for a moment, his eyes searching Don for some long lost memory. "The difference is incredible, and horrifying. They're much happier, but they don't remember you. Months and months of history is erased, and when they look at you, there is no recognition. They don't see the times that you were together, the memories that you made. They only see a stranger. And it isn't their fault – part of their mind has been fried. And they'll never get that time, those memories, back. The entire thing is inhuman." Don didn't quite know what to say, but was saved by the stewardess coming with the aisle with the drink cart. Don was just putting his whiskey on the tray in front of him, when he spied something out of the corner of his eye.

"Is Harry harassing the girl next to him?" He murmured, looking at the row adjacent. Pete twisted his head back and wrinkled his nose as he saw Harry repeatedly touching a girl who's body language was telling him to fuck off.

"Of course he is. God, when did he get to be such an ass?"

The five of them sat around a table at the hotel in Ohio, but Peggy felt sick to her stomach and couldn't do more than push her food around on her plate.

"This is going to be difficult to advertise." Harry said between bites of steak. "I mean, we don't really have data on what depressed people watch, for starters. Second, we have to be wary of the networks themselves. This is a difficult topic guys. Do they want their viewers watching 'The Brady Bunch' and suddenly have this depressing commercial come up, telling people that the Bradies don't exist and they're all secretly miserable inside?"

"But the commercial isn't going to be depressing." Pete shot back. "It is going to end happily, and everyone will go back to 'The Brady Bunch' with butterflies in their heart for how happy they are."

"Or should we advertise it during darker shows?" Harry continued like Pete hadn't even spoken. "Advertise during coverage of Vietnam, during documentaries about World War II and mustard gas?"

"You're supposed to have this figured out." Pete replied. "What happened to your media plan?"

"Oh, I have it. It's just that we're forging new ground here. No one has tried to advertise this on television before. We can make some educated guesses, but the best time and place to put the ads is still essentially a mystery."

"That gives us a chance to make history." Pete smiled at his own cleverness and took a drink.

"Are you OK Peggy?" Harry asked suddenly. She looked up from her lap and blinked.

"Sorry?"

"You just look really pale, like someone shot your dog." Peggy smiled and shook her head.

"No, I'm fine. Just tired."

"Peggy," Pete looked straight at her. "You wowed them at Burger Chef. I know that you can do it again. Don't doubt yourself. We wouldn't have you pitching this if we thought Don could do it better."

"I know." She smiled again and looked around the table unconvincingly. She couldn't help it – she felt like that lost, confused secretary that had started with Sterling Cooper all those years ago. She knew why Don had assigned her to this team. She knew. And in some ways, she was very excited for this. In other ways, she was terrified.

She noticed a family a few feet away, a mom and dad with a boy who looked to be about ten. She felt her heart squeeze. She knew Don was looking at her, but she couldn't bring herself to look back.