Author's Note: Sorry I haven't updated in a while! I was on vacation. But now I am back on the wagon! Letostag, I don't think ANYONE has to worry about their girlfriend leaving them for Ferg. He's quite the scumbag :)

Don noticed that he was putting on a bit of weight around his mid-section, and it made him grouchy. His pants were slightly too tight, and his belly bulged against his usually form-fitting jackets. Apparently taking Peggy out for dinner and drinks every night was not good for his waistline.

"Honey," he sighed on the phone. "We need to have more... vigorous sex."

"What?" Peggy laughed. "What makes you say that? And what does 'vigorous sex' even mean?"

"Eating dinner every night is not doing me any favours."

"So what, before I went to McCann, you never ate dinner?" She asked incredulously.

"Rarely. It always seemed like such a hassle."

"Well, what if you cut back on drinking?" She asked innocently.

"What, and start losing drinking competitions with Roger? There is a pecking order at this office I need to maintain." He said, watching his ice cubes float in his whiskey.

"Well, what if you ordered salads instead of steaks the size of Manhattan?" Don made a face.

"Rabbit food, that's the answer you have for me. I thought women were supposed to be experts at weight loss."

"If we were, we wouldn't need the Relaxiciser." Don suddenly broke into a grin, remembering one of Peggy's first campaigns.

"Do you ever still use it?" He asked slyly. He could almost hear the sound of her eyeballs rolling on the other end of the line.

"I think that you keep the area occupied enough that there simply isn't time."

"I am very thorough." Don observed. "I have a partner's meeting five minutes ago. Bourbon for two at my apartment tonight?" Peggy laughed.

"Alright Don. I will be bringing over some salads though. No one ever has to know you ate one."

"We'll see how that goes. Goodbye, sweetheart."

"Goodbye Don. I love you." She hung up, and Don did as well as he smiled.

"We need to discuss Peggy's absence." Pete snapped, tapping a finger on the storyboards in front of him.

"We've discussed her workload a dozen times, why doesn't the creative department seem to have a handle on this?" Cutler asked, giving a pointed glance at Don.

"She's come in every weekend since she went to McCann, I don't know what more we can ask from her." Don snapped, throwing up his arms helplessly. Of course, much of the weekend had been spent making love on his office couch, but it didn't seem prudent to bring that up.

"It's been a month, and creative is already going to shit." Pete grabbed his storyboards and held them up.

"This is the latest Tampax ad from creative. Peggy has been working on Ciba the entire time she's been here, so we've had to go to our freelancers. Tampax hates it, and demands that she be back on the account. They're threatening to pull their contract once it ends." The picture was of a woman dressed in a swimsuit, looking over her shoulder secretively, with the tagline 'No one has to know'.

"I don't get it." Roger complained. "What's wrong with it? Isn't that the entire idea behind those... things?"

"I don't know what's wrong with it either." Pete admitted. "The only woman freelancer we have right now is Marge, who is 60, and she had no opinions to offer."

"I'm sorry." Ted apologised. "I had no idea that it was going to be such a big deal. I thought it was good."

"It's too shameful." Don interjected. "'This product is the only thing that keeps you from being a pariah at social gatherings'? I wouldn't buy it either, it's crap."

"Well maybe you should take the account." Ted replied. "I could swap for one of yours."

"Fine." Don stubbed out his cigarette frustratedly. "Any other complaints from the peanut gallery?"

"Chevalier Blanc doesn't like their promotion for the upcoming Christmas season." Pete continued. "They loved the one for Noir, and if you remember, there are supposed to be two separate ad campaigns placed strategically in the same area. Nothing we've pitched has ignited their interest. We have the ad space in TV and magazines, but we have nothing to fill it."

"Jesus." Don sighed and let his head fall to one shoulder. "Ted, what have you been doing in that office?" Ted bit his lip and tapped his pencil against his notepad.

"I don't like doing this anymore." He said quietly. "I don't want to be the guy making decisions, shitting on the bad ideas. I hate the responsibility, the politics."

"So what are you saying?" Roger demanded. "This really isn't the time to be jumping ship, Chaough." Ted nodded, still looking down at his notepad.

"I'll stay on as a creative director until Peggy comes back." He decided. "After that, I'm leaving SCP." He finally looked up and looked sweepingly at the partners. He then rose, and started to collect his things.

"Ted, I don't think this is the time to be making rash decisions." Joan implored. Ted looked at her.

"No Joan. This is exactly what I need. You can figure out the buyout, I'll sign whatever papers come my way." He grabbed his notepad and strolled out the door.

"Well, fuck it." Pete sighed, sitting back in his chair. "This is great."

"There are thousands of creative directors out there, we can replace him." Don said. Nevertheless, he still took out another cigarette and gave a long, hard drag.

"That may be so, but how many of them can balance you out?" Joan asked pointedly. Don frowned.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Jim leaned forward on his elbows, giving Don a hard stare. "That you are impulsive, brash, moody, hard to work with, and not a team player. We need to find someone not as bullheaded as you are."

"Suit yourself." Don replied shortly. "Sheep are a dime a dozen."

"So are lone wolves." Cutler replied. Don narrowed his eyes and sneered back.

"Fine. Let me know what else Ted screwed up on and send the list to my office." Don got up stormed out of the meeting room.

"And that is our third pitch." Peggy wrapped up her presentation to Jim Hobart and Ferg, with the rest of the team standing behind her, holding up the storyboards. Jim nodded his approval.

"Very nice work, Ms. Olson. I had heard rumours of your light touch, and I'm pleased to say that you have exceeded my expectations." Hobart's praise simultaneously made her flush with pride and feel queasy, like someone had fed her half a cup of cod liver oil. There was something incredibly ingenuine about everything he did and said, and sometimes she was left wondering if there was truly a man underneath that skin, or if he was a cardboard cutout of Satan.

"Now, I have an exciting prospect for all of you." Jim said, leaning on his desk as he made eye contact with everyone on the Tiffany's team. "Tiffany & Co have invited you all out to spend 5 days at their mines in South Africa." There was a momentary silence from the room, and Peggy felt her heart flutter. South Africa.

"With the political situation as it is, they want us to go and spend five days there? I could just go down to Harlem and get the shit kicked out of me and avoid the flight." Jeremy spoke.

"I've been assured that you will be with bodyguards the entire time, including your time in the mines and when you are put up in Johannesburg." He replied. "You're not obliged to go, but I would strongly encourage all of you to take this opportunity. Let me know by the end of the week, as Tiffany's will have to make the arrangements on their end. The trip will be in two weeks, and we'll pitch to Tiffany's two weeks after." Jim got up from his desk ledge, and went to seat himself around on the other side. "That will be all." The team slowly shuffled out the door, Jeremy taking the storyboards under his arm. Peggy felt like she was floating. An international trip!

"My husband would never let me go." Elizabeth started up immediately as they left the room. "I mean, he doesn't like me working as it is, and going to South Africa would be out of the question. You never hear about good times coming out of that country. The entire place is barbaric." She continued to prattle on and Peggy tuned her out as they all stepped on the elevator going down.

Peggy Olson, international adventurer.

Peggy Olson, international woman of mystery.

Peggy Olson: Digging in the Mines.

She was broken out of her reverie when she heard Ferg's annoying voice cut through Elizabeth's incessant talking.

"If I can handle the blacks here in America, I can handle them anywhere." He boasted confidently. The rest of the team got off on the 10th floor, and Ferg quickly jabbed the 'close door' button. Peggy frowned.

"Ferg, that's your floor."

"I know sweetie. I just wanted to have a private conversation with you." Mentally, Peggy sighed. "Are you going on the trip?"

"I don't see why not. I've always wanted to travel." He nodded.

"When you're with me, you won't have to worry about anything. I'll keep you safe." He smirked. "Women love a hero."

"I have a boyfriend." She reminded him harshly for the umpteenth time.

"Sure, but he's not going to be there when some darkie comes up to you and tries to grab you, or breaks into your hotel room to rape you." Ferg replied.

"Well, I appreciate your concern, but I think I'll be alright." Peggy said through gritted teeth, and was relieved them they arrived in the basement. She walked out, not looking back, and hoping that Ferg would take the hint not to follow.

Don had his eyes closed, one arm around Peggy as the other hand held his drink. There had never been a time where things felt so right in his life, and despite the fact that SCP was falling apart at the seems didn't seem to bother him as much as it should have. He needed Peggy, and soon SCP would have her back as well. Then everything would be right.

"Pegs." He asked suddenly.

"Mmmm?" She asked, stroking his chest hair lightly as she looked up at him.

"What is your secret for Playtex?" He asked. "How do you take such a... sensitive product, and make it advertisable to the masses?" She frowned for a moment, and thought.

"I think that for women, you have to make it something like a private club. A sneaky ad that men may not quite understand, but you do, because you're a woman. You want something where a woman and her husband are both looking at the same thing, but she smiles at it, and he's just confused. A sort of sisterhood bond, I suppose." Don sighed deeply, and she looked up at him. "Why? Having problems with Playtex?" He snorted, and brushed the errant strands of hair away from her face.

"I don't even want to talk about that." Peggy looked at him curiously, but didn't press the issue.

"Well, something exciting happened at work today, believe or not." She said.

"Oh?"

"Well," Peggy crawled on top of him and folded her arms on his chest, resting her chin as she smiled brightly. "Tiffany's is taking the creative team to the mines of South Africa." Don looked at her incredulously.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes! Think of it – me, in South Africa! I think we're going to fly into Johannesburg and go out from there. All expenses paid. I think they're flying out a few other agencies as well, which is pretty incredible, but apparently they want us to be inspired by the process." Don continued to stare.

"Peggy, you're not going to South Africa. That is ridiculous." Peggy frowned.

"And now you're in the position of telling me what to do?"

"I'm not telling you to do anything. It's insane what is going on in that country."

"We'll have bodyguards." She insisted. Don snorted.

"That'll help when they detonate a nuclear bomb. Have you been reading the papers?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I'll be safe." Don shook his head, but didn't say anything further. He just laid his head back and stared at the ceiling. Peggy knew it was silly, but somehow she needed his permission to go. Suddenly, Don's opinion had become an important factor in her life once again, and while part of her hated it, another part of her just really needed him to be happy for her. "I'll bring you back a souvenir..." He sighed.

"I know I can't tell you not to go, because when have you ever listened? Just be safe out there. Don't get away from the bodyguards, and don't talk to the locals. Also, don't join any shady underground movements." Peggy smiled half-heartedly.

"I'll be fine. I'll just have a better tan."