Author's Note: Great news! I finally figured out how this story will end! Horray! I'm not sure how many chapters it will wind up having, but I'm thinking at least 20. Thank you for your reviews! And Letostag, you are so right. Don can be a super dick sometimes.

Don Draper walked into the movie theatre just as the film started, and immediately took a seat near the back. He needed to get out of the office. He had sat at his desk, fuming for half an hour, until Pete had come in and muttered something about papers for Ciba and shot him a dirty look on his way out. Don's feelings had become tinged with a hint of regret, so he had poured half a glass of whiskey and drank it all in one swing before heading out to his salvation. He settled into the seat, slouching as Airport opened.

A few minutes in, he noticed the distinct scent of marijuana, and looked at the kid a couple of rows ahead of him. He shook his head, amused, until he noticed a woman turn her head and motion him to come over. He thought he might be mistaken at first, but as the light blue sky of the screen illuminated the theatre, he saw he was right. It was Peggy.

The kid with the grass hopped over the row and took his place, and offered Peggy a drag. She took a hit and passed it back to him. Don watched her carefully, and felt his eyes narrow and his teeth clench of their own accord. They passed the joint back and forth a few times, occasionally exchanging words, and then he noticed the outline of Peggy's shoulder as she reached her arm out into his seat. He heard the faint sound of a zipper being undone, and then a sigh as the man slouched further in his seat. Peggy's arm remained extended. Suddenly, Don couldn't see the movie screen any more. He was intently focused on the small motions that Peggy made, and his vision was tinted with red.

Peggy couldn't really remember what went on in the movie when the credits started rolling. However, she felt good. Relaxed. Maybe she'd go out and get a new book to read after the movie. Or go out shopping. She should call Joan. Joan was great at shopping.

She was snapped out of her reverie when she felt a crushing grip on her wrist. Confused, she looked up into the murderous face of Don Draper. His face was red, and on both temples she saw the veins bulging. She felt herself go pale. She had never seen him this angry, and it was frightening.

"Get up." He barked, and the blond sitting next to her looked at both of them, dazed.

"Don, what are-"

"Get up, Peggy." He commanded, and roughly yanked her wrist. She clumsily stumbled over the cup holder as Don kept pulling her, marching down the theatre aisle.

"What is wrong with you?" She cried as she tottled after him. Don hadn't lessened his iron grip, and she was afraid she'd lose her hand if she didn't keep up.

"Don't talk." He dragged her out of the theatre and onto the street, and opened the door of a waiting cab. "Get in." He unceremoniously threw her into the back seat, and immediately sat next to her as she collected her limbs and sat up straight. He barked his address at the cab driver, and they sped off.

"What the fuck, Don?" She whined, holding her wrist and glaring at her creative director. Don didn't look at her.

"Do you really want to get into this right now, right here?" He spat, and Peggy stared at the cab floor. An uneasy silence took them to his apartment, and he immediately grabbed her other wrist and began to drag her out of the car.

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" She snarled. Don gave her a vicious look, and gripped her wrist even harder.

"What, are you going to go back to the theatre and start blowing every man there?" With another yank Peggy stumbled out of the cab, her ankle twisting on her high heels, and once again she was hobbling after Don she he stormed through his apartment building.

"Hello Mr. Draper." The doorman greeted. Don completely ignored him and angrily stabbed the 'up' button for the elevator.

"I'm not going up there." She tried again, and once again Don fixed her with a soul-crushing glare.

"We can take the stairs if you insist on being difficult." Weakly, Peggy tried to rotate her wrist, but his grip was too tight, and she wound up following him into the elevator, and into his apartment. He threw her through the door and finally let her go, quickly locking the door behind him. Peggy stumbled again, but caught herself before she fell. She kept her eyes on Don as she sat down on his couch, setting down her purse and rubbing her left wrist. Without looking at her, Don went into the kitchen and poured himself a drink. She waited silently, listening to the ice cubes clink against the glass and his erratic pouring.

"What the fuck was that?" He demanded, coming out of the kitchen, frowning as he waved his glass around. "What, you have a side job giving hand jobs in the theatre? We give you license to come and go as you please, and you spend your spare time whoring yourself out? No wonder you were throwing yourself at John, it seems to be your nature. What, do you go and have lunch meetings with Duck that wind up with you bent over his desk? Come back and have some creative time with Ted that involves reinventing the Kama Sutra?" Some of his drink spilt out over his glass and onto his carpet, but Don didn't seem to notice or care. He just fixed his spiteful gaze on Peggy as he continued ranting. "Maybe we should just have you at client meetings just to sit and giggle and put your hands on the client's crotch. We could pay you hourly, with an allowance for hotel rooms. Jesus Peggy, you are one of the youngest copy chiefs in the country, and a woman to boot, and you just have to keep fucking it up by sleeping with anything in a 50 mile radius that has a cock." His words stopped, but his hateful glare continued. Peggy felt incredible rage and helplessness, but most of all she just felt exhausted. Her mind raced, but she couldn't think of any words to defend herself, and she felt a pressure building under Don's intense stare. She didn't want to, but suddenly she couldn't help it, and she started to bawl.

"Don." She cried. "We can't keep going on like this." She tried to force out the rest of her words, but her tears were coming too quickly and her body was racked with sobs. Don felt his anger recede, her tears cooling his wrath, and panic rose as he gazed at the crying woman on his couch.

"Peggy..." he said pleadingly, and put down his drink and slowly walked towards her. She continued sobbing as he sat down, and he was unsure of what to do.

"I just..." Peggy hiccuped and wiped her nose on the back of her hand angrily. "I can't do this. I can't have you calling me a whore at the office, getting jealous every time I have a meeting with a man. We're not even together, Don. I have done nothing to earn your scorn. I owe you nothing." She shook her head and hiccuped again. Don's face looked pained, but she didn't even notice. "I'm going to have to leave the agency, or find a place with McCann. God, I might have to move out of the state. It's a small world in advertising, and I can't have you ruining my career because of your insane jealousy."

"Wait, wait." Don held out his hands. "Peggy, you're too good to work at that sausage factory."

"Well, I'm too good to be working for you, and it seems like all the agencies in New York wind up being eaten by them anyway." She finally looked at him, and Don's expression went from a look of panic to a crestfallen hopelessness. He leaned back on the couch and put his hand to his forehead, staring at the ceiling.

"I'm sorry." He said softly. "I didn't want it to end up like this. I didn't want to end up like this." Peggy looked at him and sniffled, and waited. "I just... I didn't realize what we had. And now that I see us clearly... see you clearly... it's all I can think about. I see you every time I close my eyes, and you dance across all my dreams. And then I come to work, and I watch you when you walk, when you talk to Joan in the hallway, that look of concentration when you're thinking about an ad. And then I see you talking with Ted, smiling at other men, and I see them looking at you the same way I do, thinking the same thoughts that I do, all I can focus on is that I don't want anyone else to have you. I don't want anyone else to see all these things that I do, I don't want them to have the same relationship that we do. I know it's not fair, but I can't help myself. I want you. And the only thing worse than seeing clients flirt with you in a meeting is not seeing you at all. I can't have you leave the agency, Peggy." A silence hung between them, and Peggy rubbed her wrist.

"I can't keep working here if you keep treating me like this." She said slowly.

"I know." He sat up and looked at Peggy, pleadingly. "I just need to know what we're doing. We keep winding up together, and then you act like nothing happened while I keep wanting more. And I keep thinking that you must want me if you keep sleeping with me, but then you keep telling me 'no', and I don't know what to think." Peggy shifted in her seat, feeling the power dynamic change as Don looked for her approval, for her desire. Despite their troubled history, she had never enjoyed this when it happened. She had a feeling that when he gave her this power that he was looking to her to hold him together, that if she misspoke he would fly into a million pieces and that while he would always come back together, there would always be a chip in the bone china.

"I don't know Don. Ever since we first slept together in your office, I've had these... fantasies. Sometimes I imagine us together, coming home together and bouncing creative off of each other, laughing at the office antics. I see us meeting with clients for dinner, bombarding them with ideas until they break down and agree. Sometimes, I see us on the beach in some tropical paradise, making love until dawn. Everything seems perfect. And then it's gone. And I just see your failed marriages, my failed relationships, your drinking and possessiveness. I see everyone at the office whispering behind our backs, clients saying 'That's Peggy Olson, who fucked her way up the ladder'. And I think 'How could this ever work between us?' And I wonder if either of us is really capable of having a good relationship, and I wonder if we'd just be more miserable than when we started." Don's eyes were sad and vulnerable, and it tore at Peggy's heart. He took her hand and pressed her palm to his lips, and then ran his nose lightly along her fingers.

"I'm just scared. I don't have anything to offer you, Peggy. You don't need my money or connections. You don't need my approval at the office anymore. You aren't taken in by the charm I use on women at bars. You know who I am, the good and the bad. And you know it's mostly bad. I don't know how to have a real relationship, I haven't been faithful in any of them. You know me, and you don't want me, and there is nothing I can do. I'm completely at your whim, and it's a frightening place to be." Peggy looked at him with a heart-breaking sympathy.

"Don, I..." she swallowed hard, tripping on the words that had always been a subtext, but that she'd never envisioned actually saying to him. "I love you. I really do. You took me from being a quiet secretary to a copy chief. You've shaped me, and every time you've pushed me, it's given me the opportunity to be better, or to learn how to push back. I just don't know which to do in this situation." Don sighed against her palm and kissed it again. She felt tears welling in her eyes again, and despite Don's insistence that she had the upper hand, she was just as sad and confused as he was. "I don't want us to be like this, Don." He shook his head.

"I don't either." They sat in their silence, keenly aware of each other, and yet incredibly far away at the same time. Finally, Don took her hand in his and stood up, and Peggy followed him hesitantly. He gathered her towards him, holding their entangled hands at shoulder level and putting his other hand on her waist. He began swaying gently, and Peggy stiffened, frightened of this sudden intimacy and ashamed of how badly she wanted it.

"It's OK Peggy." He whispered into her ear. She felt her hesitancy break, and she leaned into him, enjoying how solid and reliable he felt against her small frame.

"We don't have any music." She said quietly. Don started humming the tune to 'My Way', and Peggy giggled, listening to his timber in his chest. They stood, swaying on their feet for a few minutes, and for a short time, everything felt perfect.

"Do you remember the last time we danced?" Don asked. Peggy nodded. "I just remember looking down at the top of your head, smelling your shampoo, and thinking 'I'm not alone.' Despite all the problems we've had, despite all our arguments and disagreements, you're always there, we always work it out. And I remember thinking that that is how it was meant to be. We were always meant to find each other, to be together. Because it isn't always pretty, but we always get exactly what we need." Peggy simply buried her head into his chest, and squeezed his hand.

Finally, Peggy broke the embrace, holding Don's hand as she stepped away. "I should go. I am supposed to be going out to dinner tonight." Don nodded sadly and squeezed her hand gently in return.

"If the night doesn't turn out, give me a call." He said. Peggy smiled and nodded, and grabbed her purse off the couch.

"Have a good evening, Don." She unlocked the door and left.