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So the "emergency" in the episode title is the Cuban Missile Crisis, which is just coming to a head and colors the actions of most everyone in the episode with themes of confession, absolution, and doing things they'd never otherwise do. Father Gill tells Peggy that she needs to unburden herself and reconcile with God if she doesn't want to go to Hell, and while she's initially unimpressed with his potential-apocalypse-fueled fire-and-brimstone talk, after Pete gets drunk and confesses to Peggy that he wishes he was with her and that he loves her, she in turn reveals that she had his baby, although she leaves out some important details when she tells him she gave it away.
Don returns and goes back to work, where there's emergency accounting happening in preparation for the merger, and the junior execs of SC are wondering what's going on. Pete comes in to confess the Clearasil disaster to Duck, who tells him about the merger and offers to make him his replacement as Head of Accounts in the new SC order. Pete gets unexpected kudos from Don, which is the impetus for him to prove his ultimate loyalties by ratting Duck and his plan to be the new President out to Don. Don holds his cards back and gives Duck enough rope to hang himself before announcing that he won't be a part of an agency run by Duck. Duck and his blood-alcohol level flip out in front of the buyers, in stark contrast to Don's cool self-assuredness, so it's not clear whose future holds what.
Finally, Betty learns that she's pregnant, and given her current situation, it's not surprising that she's none too thrilled, but it's kind of a shock when she investigates the possibility of having an abortion. She gets the name of a guy from Francine, but Francine also counsels her against the idea, so Betty tries to do things the old-fashioned way by bouncing on a horse in an effort to induce a miscarriage. Speaking of surprises, Don returns to Betty and finally admits to having the affair, but tells her in no uncertain terms that he wants to be with her. She puts him off, and then gets drunk in a bar and finally has sex with someone else, although I certainly can't blame her, considering her choice of partner is Captain Awesome from Chuck. However, Betty gets a heartfelt letter of apology from Don telling her how much he loves and needs her, and she takes him back. On top of that, she reveals her pregnancy, and with the prospect of birth signifying the rebirth of their relationship, we end the season.
Want more? The full recap starts right below!Couple bits and pieces before I get started: Two episodes ago, the Pembroke I linked to was the wrong one -- it should have been the (now-defunct) sister school of Brown, which makes a lot more sense geographically. And last episode, I was so focused on the hair of the mother in the artwork that I completely overlooked the obvious, which is that it was completely imitative of certain iconic Catholic imagery (either Christ or the Virgin Mary, depending on who you ask). That's ten times funnier and makes a hundred times more sense, given both the pitch and Peggy's storyline this season, so I am sorry for overlooking that. This show is so great, and although I'm probably in the minority I enjoyed this season even more than last, but man, from a recapping standpoint I am glad to have a break. Or I will be, as soon as I get through the intricacies of this week's offering. Here goes:
We open on a closeup of a framed needlepoint of a doe and her fawn, and the baleful eye that Betty is casting its way will add up very soon but for the moment makes it seem like she's the only person in the world who didn't cry when Bambi lost his mother. Betty's in an examining room in someone's house, that someone being a friendly older gentleman who seems to be her gynecologist, who enters and informs her that the spotting she had the week before was not caused by her horseback riding -- she's pregnant. Betty greets this news with a level of enthusiasm that could be used as inspiration by anyone whose life's dream is to resemble a block of wood. The doctor starts to run down the changes she'll have to make to her life, including stopping riding, and suggests she simply take it easy: "That's what husbands are for." Without informing him that that's precisely the problem here, Betty tells him she can not have a baby at the moment. That declaration hangs there for a long moment before the doctor says that if they're talking about what he thinks they're talking about, there are "alternatives," but given that she's a wealthy married woman, he can't believe she'd even consider such a drastic measure. "That is an option for young girls, who have no other options." Well, it's progress from The Cider House Rules, at least. Betty merely sits in silence, so the doctor takes her hand and assures her that as soon as she tells her husband and friends, she'll stop worrying. He steps out for a moment, and instead of undressing for her examination, as he requested, she leaves, grabbing her coat on the way. I'm glad it was hanging on a hook, because seeing her handle a coat hanger at this particular moment would have been more than a little uncomfortable.
At SC, Ken hands Harry a folder: "With love, from Ken Cosgrove and Pete Campbell." Not a pair I would have put together, but I hope those crazy kids make it work! No, it's some paperwork from Accounts, as Bertram asked for the ad-revenue projections early. Harry notes with some annoyance that Clearasil is missing, inducing an unnoticed guilty look from Peggy, before telling Ken he doesn't know what's up with the unusual request. Paul wonders if it could have something to do with Don's continued absence, but Harry thinks Don's just out landing a big aerospace account. Ken looks inquisitively at Peggy, who says she hasn't heard anything, and Paul speculates that Don might be opening his own shop before Harry suggests he might be finding a location for "Sterling Cooper West." Harry's looking in entirely the wrong direction, which is all too common among the junior execs on this show. He notes that whatever is going on, they're being evaluated, and expresses his fear that Kennedy's speech that night might go overtime, which would cut into his department's ad revenue. "I'll take it in the shorts." It's kind of jarring when Sal isn't around to pop an eyebrow at lines like this, so we have to settle for Paul asking, "Why am I sick to my stomach?" Also, Harry, I know your wear pretty thick glasses, but being concerned about your department's performance at a time like this seems myopic even for you.
Peggy comes in to see Pete, who says he's waiting on a call from North American Aviation. "It's ten there. They should just be getting in to work." Peggy nervously asks if Pete mentioned anything about Clearasil to anyone, and upon hearing a negative, tells him about all the emergency accounting. Pete, without a trace of pretension or anger, says he just doesn't know what to say to Duck, so Peggy advises him to tell the truth and not worry about the outcome. "People respect that." Of course, Duck might respectfully fire him, but that advice is still sound, especially since it's not like he has a choice anyway. Pete thanks her, and Peggy leaves with a smile: "I don't want you blaming Creative." Pete's face: "Wait, you think that might work?"
Betty's riding, which seems like a really passive-aggressive way to abort a child, but she soon has her attention drawn to the fact that Don is waiting for her, hat literally in hand, when she dismounts. She takes a moment before approaching him and asking where he's been, and he in turn takes a deep breath before saying he needed some time to think things over. She counters, "Must be nice. Needing time and just taking it, all on your own terms." She's obviously ready to go toe to toe with him, but he's finally there to be real, as he says he's sorry for what happened. She gets what's going on: "What happened?" He tells her that he wasn't respectful to her, with that statement simultaneously apologizing for everything -- the infidelity, the lying, the taking her for granted, the treating her like a child. She claims victory in their long battle of wills: "Well, now I know I'm not crazy. That helps." Don urgently tells her he can't walk away from what they have together, and he wants to be together with her again. So I guess last week's baptism wasn't so much literally losing the Don Draper identity as getting rid of the parts of that identity that served to isolate him -- going back to when he was excited about having a family, and when he didn't believe he was alone. She's noncommittal, saying things haven't been that different without him, which looks cutting on the page but was actually delivered more with a tone of scientific observation than anything else. He still looks wounded, but changes the subject to the kids, saying he needs to see them. For obvious reasons, however, their offspring are not a subject about which she's feeling chatty at the moment, so she says she can't deal with the situation right now, but will call and make arrangements. She strides off, and Don looks disappointed that that didn't go a little better. On the plus side, his camel overcoat looks dashing.
Pete comes in to see Duck, who's now drinking openly, to Pete's mild discomfort, and confesses the news about the Clearasil fiasco. Duck, after opining that the situation with the father-in-law is a "sticky wicket," tells Pete he's counting on his discretion. That seems a bit like counting on Bai Ling to dress sanely, but Pete's confused and panicked response of "Okay?" is enough to silence any criticism. Duck tells Pete about the merger, and adds that Clearasil would have been in conflict with Lever Brothers (presumably a PPL client) anyway, so Pete actually did the company a favor by refusing to give in to his wife's deepest desire. Well, he doesn't quite put it that way, but given Duck's messy divorce it's probably not too much of a stretch to think he would. Duck praises Pete's "loyalty and enthusiasm" during the American Airlines period, and says he'd like Pete to replace him as Head of Accounts when he moves on to be President of the new SC. Pete's mind is blown that his longtime dream is so close, and Duck cautions him not to say anything to anyone just yet. Pete then asks if Don is on board with his promotion, which makes sense, because if there's anything or anyone that Pete thinks about more than moving up in the SC world, it's Don. Duck scoffs that it doesn't matter, as he's the President, and if Don ever returns, he'll either fall in line or find another profession. "That's why God put non-compete clauses in contracts." But while Roger may sometimes think of himself as God, especially now that he's bagged a piece of ass like Jane at his age, Duck is still going to learn that that they're not quite the same. And he's going to learn that lesson both expensively and hilariously. Pete thanks Duck, but as he leaves, he looks surprisingly conflicted. Maybe he's wondering whether to trust the word of a man whose breath makes a gin mill seem odorless by comparison.
JFK is starting his speech about the Cuban Missile Crisis as Don watches in concern. He picks up the phone to make a call, but thinks better of it and simply listens...
...and then he's arriving at SC the morning as JFK's speech continues on the audio. Joan happily greets him, which is a really nice moment, and when he smilingly asks how she is, she confesses she's "like everyone else today. Very distracted." Peggy emerges from her office (still calling him by his given name, by the way; I'm glad she made that stick) and asking how California was. He looks at her office (she's got a pink door instead of the standard blue; baby steps) and asks if he works for her now. Hey, it's getting closer to the truth. Peggy smiles and explains that Roger gave her permission, and that she landed the Popsicle account. Don turns back to Joan: "Other than her office and haircut, is there anything new I need to know about?" Heh, but how awesome is it that Don actually noticed exactly what was different about Peggy's appearance? Joan's like, honey, please, and follows him into his office...
...wherein she points out a big pile on his desk that she says is only half his correspondence and tells him both Roger and Duck are anxious to speak with him. Don asks Joan to have the copywriters and Sal in to get him up to speed, and to set up a meeting with Roger in an hour. "And Mr. Phillips... maybe I'll run into him in the men's room." I think it's fair to say the chances of that happening have improved greatly of late. After some brief talk about paychecks and Betty, Joan starts to leave, but turns back to tell Don that they have a safety protocol for civil defense. "I don't want to start a panic, but I think people have the right to know." Don blithely says he doesn't think there will be a point to taking to the stairs or diving under a desk, words he probably regrets when Pete enters and is like "So! You're back!" like a lover ready for a spat. Joan looks at Pete, looks at Don, and leaves without a word, shutting the door as she goes, which is why she is the smartest person that's ever lived. Pete demands to know what happened, as he ended up "tap dancing for General Dynamics," and Don amusedly responds, "Sorry I missed that." Who isn't? Pete adds that he can't drive, so it's amazing he made any meetings at all, but Don asks if it never occurred to Pete that he left him there because he thought he could handle it. From the look on Pete's face, it certainly did not occur to him, and while I can only speak for myself I can certainly say that he's not the only one. Don asks how it went, and Pete brightens as he says he's very close to getting North American Aviation. Don praises Pete for handling the situation, and then goes on: "I know you want everything the minute you want it. Sometimes it's better to wait until you're ready." Pete, almost not daring to believe it, asks if that means Don thinks he's ready, (he can only be referring to the Head of Accounts issue), and Don replies that he does. "You proved it." And Don's speech cuts to the heart of Pete's character development this season -- he's no longer a believer in entitlement. The easy acceptance of loss of his inheritance, the seeing his family as a bunch of aristocratic layabouts, the casting off of his nepotistic father-in-law -- they all show his need to be his own man, and Don, the most self-made man there ever was, is the logical choice to see and appreciate that. Don, not unkindly, then says he needs to do some catch-up work, so Pete leaves him to it after welcoming him back. Pete closes the door, so you can't see it, but if you turn the volume up you can hear him skipping down the hallway. Don, however, turns not to the pile on his desk but to the window, as if to contemplate the state of the world...
...as Roger, reading a New York Times banner headline on the crisis, is also doing. Don enters and asks if Roger wanted to see him. Roger: "About three weeks ago." I swear, John Slattery and Vincent Kartheiser should take their show on the road if this series ever ends, because every other thing out of their mouths makes me crack up like there's no tomorrow, if you'll pardon the expression. ("Did we get Miracle Whip?" could be my favorite line of the season.) Don easily says he'll stack his absences up against Roger's any day, an assertion that reduces Roger to complaining impotently: "You can't just do that." Don offers that it was important, and then Roger breaks the news about the merger, saying that the PPL people are coming in Friday to discuss the new order, and by the way, Don is clearing half a million bucks on the deal. Don's eyes literally just go as wide as they can, and it's such a delightfully atypical acting choice from Jon Hamm to just be like, "BOING!" about the whole thing. Like, you just found out the dollar figure it takes for Don to completely lose his cool. Roger injects the news that Duck put the whole thing together, which of course surprises Don, who then asks if there are any conflicts, and Roger tells him very few: "Coop and Alice jumped on it. I wasn't gonna make trouble." Heh. Don's not so dazzled not to smell the bullshit there, though, and at his "Come on" side-eye, Roger tells him he can go back to his office and figure out how much he made on the deal. Don laughs, and they shake hands, but before he can leave, Roger muses that Kennedy is daring the Soviets to bomb them "right when I get a second chance." Don opines that they don't have any idea of what's really going on. "You know that."
Church. Father Gill is sermonizing about how it's easy to be angry given the country's situation at the moment, but even Jesus on the cross forgave his transgressors. "Let us take charge of our own souls. Especially you, Peggy Olson -- pipe up about that kid before a missile sends you straight to Hell." Whoops, got a couple scenes ahead of myself. Anita and Peggy bow their heads as Father Gill prays, saying they're all sinners, but asking for the courage and common sense to admit, confess, and repair.
At the beauty parlor, Betty's got her hair in curlers, and Francine (where have you been, girl?) is chattering away about the nuclear situation, to the dismay of another woman, who's sitting there with her young daughter. Hey, if she's old enough to pay salon prices, she's old enough to hear about nuclear war. Francine gets fed up with the woman's complaining, and snarks to Betty, "I wish we had a shelter, so I could slam the door in her face." Nice. Betty, however, has other things on her mind, and spills the beans about her pregnancy. Francine partially gets it: "Congratulations?" Betty smiles at the welcome inflection, but Francine obviously doesn't know about Don, so she tells Betty that her daughter Jessica was an accident, but she's very happy to have her now. Betty takes a couple tries to make her meaning plain, but when she reiterates that it's "not a good time," Francine cottons on and says there's a doctor in Albany. However, she suggests that the best thing might be to sit tight for the time being. Betty doesn't look convinced, but the hairdresser calls her over at that moment, so Francine gives her a hug and Betty tells her she's probably right. When Francine's gone, though, the look on Betty's face is like, "I wonder if Helen Bishop might be up for a road trip?"
Ken, Paul, and Sal are trying to get Harry's TV to work when he walks in and acts pissed off. He tries to fix it, but only ends up cutting the power completely, prompting Sal to snark, "I hope the Soviets got a guy like you to build those missiles." Heh. After Ken makes a joke about Paul having Castro's beard, Harry picks up a memo and announces that the partners want a list of everyone by department. "They're counting all the money. They're counting all the people." He says someone must know what's going on...
...and we cut to Ken pulling Lois out of the switchboard office. He brings her over to Paul, Harry, and Sal, who ask her if she's heard anything about SC opening a West Coast office. Lois protests that she's not allowed to talk about what she hears in there, as if she wasn't telling anyone last year who would listen about Sal's phone calls to his mother. They're all basically like, "Come oooooon," which is all it should or does take, and she tells them about the merger. "From what we could put together, they want a New York office, and they want it filled with us. But... there's definitely going to be some... redundancies." Paul looks the most chagrined at this news, which makes sense as he's the most redundant person on the show, in more ways than one. (Michael Gladis is great, by the way, but Paul is just so hopelessly derivative in every way.) The boys start to leave, but Lois begs them to take her off the switchboard, should any of them survive. They don't completely "whatever" her, which is more than I would have expected, and she smiles hopefully. Oh, Lois, I wouldn't get your hopes up. Although now that he's not going to be leaving the office for not-so-secret trysts anymore, it might be a good time to give being Don's secretary another go.
Speaking of Don, he opens the door of his room at the Roosevelt and happily greets his kids, who have come to stay the night with him. Don says they can go get Chinese food, and asks Betty if she'd like to join them. Sally pipes up that Betty doesn't like to eat, but before Don can be like, "Thanks for the help, Salamander," Betty says she has plans anyway, and instructs him to drop the kids off with Carla in the morning. "I'll be going riding." Oof. Don, defeated, accedes to her wishes, and she and the children bid each other good night before she leaves. When she's gone, Sally brightly asks, "Can we order room service?" Kid, your dad just took home a cool half a million bucks, and he's feeling vulnerable about his place in the family. Now's the time to ask for a pony along with your hamburger.
It's night, and Betty stops in front of a store window in which a male and a female mannequin are dressed up in courtly finery. Could it be we were once so young? And fabulous?
Betty then enters a bar after having been shopping, and I've certainly lugged a bag of three into my favorite watering hole after spending far too much money on clothes. You have to do something to forget about the buyer's remorse. She takes a seat and orders a glass of water, like she's trying to be good, but when the bartender asks if she'd like anything else, she seems to reconsider, and takes a gimlet. When the bartender returns with it, he tells her it's on the gentleman a few seats down. She accepts it and asks the bartender to thank him, who says he will, but it means the guy is going to come talk to her. Betty: "We'll see about that." Betty may think she's playing it cool here, but when the guy does in fact join her, we see it's Ryan McPartlin, who plays my and possibly everyone else's favorite character on Chuck, Captain Awesome. And it's not an insult to the other characters -- he's just that awesome. He tells her he walked through Times Square, and it was empty. "Doesn't seem real, does it?" Betty concedes that that's true, but says she's trying not to think about it. Captain Retro Awesome toasts to that idea, but when he asks her name, she thanks him for the drink but says she'd like to enjoy it in peace. He takes this with as much grace a possible, and why? Awesome.
Don and the kids are having a grand old time chowing down on room service, and when Bobby asks for a milkshake, Don warns him it'll take forty-five minutes. Geez, in that time, I bet Betty could knock back three or four more gimlets. And also, I bet she will. Sally then tells a knock-knock joke that's cute when she does it but is still probably best not transcribed, and then Bobby asks if they can watch TV. It's probably a little late for that even without the threat of nuclear updates.
Betty asks the bartender to watch her bags as she heads to the bathroom, casting a brief but suggestive look CRA's way as she goes. After entering the unoccupied hallway, she tries to open the rest room door, but it's locked, so she slumps against the wall. She doesn't have to wait long, though, as CRA appears behind her, and very soon and without much fanfare, he's leaning in for the kiss and she's totally going for it. I think this makes sense -- Betty's been resentful of Don almost the whole season, going back to his infidelities in Season One, and it seemed like she was toying with the idea of evening the score at some point. Add to that the attractive anonymity of the situation against the we-might-die-tomorrow backdrop, and here we are. After some making out, they break for a moment, and she looks dreamily and drunkenly into his eyes. He takes a quick look around and opens the door to that of the ladies' room, and she kittenishly slinks in, telling him she's married as she goes. Inside (it's an office of some sort, maybe the manager's) they start up again, and she's as active as he is, undoing his pants and leading him to the couch, and soon, without the removal of any clothes, they are Doing It. You can say what you want about the scene, but what's going through his mind? "Awesome."
The kids are in bed watching Leave It To Beaver as Don lies back with some stationery and starts writing. I hope he's not recapping that show, because that would be more repetitive than doing Law And Order.
Betty and CRA are done doing it, and he asks her name again, but she's saved from having to come up with her own personal Anastasia Beaverhausen by the bartender trying to open the door. When she emerges, he asks what she was doing in there. She just fixes him with a look, like, dude, and then CRA pushes hastily past him. Settling the checks is going to be a little awkward, but if he's any bartender worth his salt this isn't the first time he's seen this.
Peggy shows up at the church kitchen and greets Father Gill as she drops off some baked goods from her mother. Father Gill tells Peggy that he knows she believes in God -- he saw it from the moment he met her. Peggy doesn't know what to say to that, so Father Gill steps forward and tells her he sometimes thinks God called him to this parish to reach her specifically, because Hell is a serious business, and she needs to unburden herself to find peace and avoid it. Peggy tries to put him off, saying he's upsetting her, but he won't be dissuaded, saying it's her guilt that's discomfiting her, and all God wants is for her to reconcile with him. "Don't you understand that this could be the end of the world, and you could go to Hell?" It's interesting, if logical, that Father Gill is taking a more traditional approach than we've come to expect from him in light of the crisis. Peggy looks lost and afraid: "I can't believe that's the way God is." She bids him good night and leaves, and he looks after her like "There goes another one to Our Lady Episcopal."
Betty gets home, goes to the refrigerator, and chomps on a chicken leg. Apparently Mommy likes to do a lot of things you don't know about, Sally.
Trudy's packing, and Pete notes that she's taking the silver. She thinks there could be looting, to which Pete responds, "A mob is going to come to the fourteenth floor of this apartment building?" If you keep dropping chicken on them, they might. Trudy says she wishes he'd come with her in case something happens, but Pete tells her she doesn't understand the potential magnitude of destruction: "Your parents' deck chairs will be on Fifth Avenue." Heh. She gives him a few hundred dollars in cash in case the train doesn't work and he needs to hire a driver, but he tells her if he's going to die, he wants it to be in Manhattan. You'll notice, though, that he took the money, so apparently he'd rather die in Manhattan in a limo with hookers and champagne. He somewhat smugly adds that she wants to be with her parents and he wants to be there, but she won't let that go easily, saying her parents love her. "Do you? If you did, you'd want to be with me." Pete says she's right, and she kisses him and looks deep into his eyes before he says he'll help her pack the car. What a weird scene -- are they breaking up? Is he conceding that he'll come down at some point? What's going on? I normally like the minimalist dialogue and heavy reliance on subtext, but I'm in the high weeds on this one. I suppose it will be clear in NINE MONTHS or so.
At SC, the boys are listening to a missile-oriented radio broadcast when Harry rushes up and tells them there's bad news -- the conference room is signed out all day. "And I checked the fridge --- there's canapés. Really good ones." Heh. Pete then appears and expresses calm over the whole merger thing, as he might given what Duck said to him, so Harry tells the rest of them that he talked to his father-in-law about it, and "regime change is always tricky. You want to stay neutral -- the loyalists are always hung, and you don't want to get caught in the fallout." Paul's understandably disgusted by this attitude, probably particularly with the incredibly tin-eared use of the word "fallout" here, but Harry says PPL doesn't care about them, and will draw a line and fire everyone below it. Paul sounds like he's going to cry as he says he likes SC the way it is (which is a nice counter to what Sheila said a few episodes ago), and this seems to have an effect on Pete, who goes marching purposefully away...
...and enters Don's office asking for a minute of his time. Don, reading the paper: "From the look of this, that might be all I have." Witty to the last. Pete closes the door, sits, and rats Duck out for his plan to be President. I just have to admire the symmetry of Pete's journey -- last season, Pete cost him that same position. I'd be tempted to describe that as "awesome" if I hadn't way used up my quota of that word for this recap. Don asks why Duck would have told Pete that, and Pete pointedly replies, "Picking sides, I guess," driving home the obvious fact that Pete is throwing his lot in with Don here. Don, however, has to ask Pete why he's telling him, and Pete replies that if he were Don, he would want to know. Don thanks Pete with no sarcasm, and Pete gets up to go, but turns back: "You know, they stopped a ship this morning. I bet the Russians are reconsidering now that we made a stand." It sounds to me like Pete is giving Don a call to action, casting PPL as the Soviets in their situation. But this is Mr. Sheffield we're talking about! He's not a Communist -- just a bad theater producer!
Betty gets home from riding and finds an envelope waiting for her, which Carla tells her is from Don. She opens it: "Dear Betty: I'm sitting in the Roosevelt, looking at the backs of Bobby and Sally's heads as they watch TV. I'm not letting them change the channel, because watching the news makes me sick, and they can see it. I think about you, and how I behaved, and my regret. I know it's my fault you are not here right now. I understand why you feel it's better to go on without me, and I know that you won't be alone for very long. But without you, I'll be alone forever. I love you. Don." The threat of the end of days bringing on confession and the hope of absolution -- Father Gill may have brought it up to Peggy, but she's not the only one who heard it. Betty's face looks like it's being pulled in several directions at once...
...as we cross-fade to the meeting between the SC and PPL brass. Powell: "Now that we've done haggling over the dowry, it's time to slip into the tent and spend a night with the bride." Everyone giggles like that wasn't a suggestion that they immediately have an orgy on the conference table, and then Bertram asks what the new management structure is going to look like. Powell announces that, given their past working relationship and his familiarity with both companies, Duck will be President of SC. Now, I don't really blame Duck for making this happen for himself -- he put the deal together, at risk to himself, and there is a certain logic to what Powell said on top of that. The problem? You're just about to find out, because Powell asks Duck for his vision for the company, and I'm not sure clear vision was his strength even before he started hitting the sauce again. Duck overplays the idea that he's "unprepared" before saying that he'd like to bring the company into financial maturity, and looks Don's way as he says that while good Creative is important, it can't be running the show. He goes on that their business is about buying time and space, and that means television -- "the bigger we are, the cheaper we can get it." Bertram, frankly appalled, notes that he didn't hear the word "client" once, but Duck digs himself deeper by condescendingly replying that when the economy's good, people buy things, and when it's not, they don't. "There's no reason for us to be tied to Creative's fantasies of persuasion." This speech is a little confusing, frankly -- it almost sounds like he's saying advertising doesn't work. But he can't really be saying that, right? I mean, it's fine to think they can put more focus on what Harry does -- strategically consulting with companies and selling them time that both sides feel will best accomplish the company's goals -- but without pushing the clients on a strong Creative team to design those ads, wouldn't they go somewhere they can get everything done at once? In other words, where's the value added by SC? Is it merely on competitive pricing? Obviously, he still intends to have a Creative team, but it sounds like it's going to be so deemphasized that I wonder if it would be any kind of selling point for the clients. That's not a criticism of the writing, by the way -- I like that Duck comes off through this whole scene as cloudy-thinking at best and petulant and vindictive at worst, because it makes his longtime battle to stay sober much more poignant, and the loss of that battle tragic. It's easy to overlook Duck in this spectacular season, but I think Mark Moses has done some terrific work and I'll be sorry to see him go, if, as seems likely, Duck trades Sterling Cooper in for Skid Row season. (Actually, even in the worst-case scenario I'd bet he gets to keep his finder's fee, close enough to a hundred grand, so I can't feel too sorry for him. That's a lot of Tanqueray.)
Anyway, Bertram, desperate for some help, asks Don for an opinion, and Don, preternaturally calm, says it sounds like a great agency, and Duck is the man to run it. "I just don't think I'll be a part of it." The Foley guys are too disciplined for this, so you'll have to imagine a needle scratch yourself. Powell is confused, and Duck wastes no time bitching about Don's "artistic temperament," while Roger mildly asks if this position is really necessary. Duck can't let an actual discussion happen, though, ironically, given how much of a blowhard he's being, crowing that Don doesn't know how to be a team player. "You can either honor your contract, or you can walk out that door and start selling insurance." Don: "I don't have a contract." Okay, now we really need the needle scratch. I might actually go out and buy some vinyl and a turntable just to enhance my enjoyment of this moment. Duck looks like he just did a Freddy Rumsen as he looks at Roger in terror, and Roger offers that he and Don are close. "We didn't think we needed one." Duck literally slumps back in defeat, because whatever his plan is for SC, it doesn't include the legendary Don Draper in competition with them, and Don stands for his victory speech: "I sell products, not advertising. I can't see as far into the future as Duck, but if the world is still here on Monday, we can talk." Great words, but since he brings it up, don't you think the British contingent would have hopped the first plane back to Merry Olde England once JFK's speech hit the airwaves? I'm sure flights are hard to come by, but they've clearly got some money to play with, and it's not like they're in a bidding war for SC. Anyway, Don leaves, and Duck spits that he won't be hard to replace. "It'll take a second to find some kid who can write a prose poem to a potato chip!" He goes on, snarling and barely in control, and when he bangs the conference table for emphasis, there is a positively delicious moment where Bertram starts to rise out of his chair, like, "I may be old and a practitioner of Eastern philosophy, but I will still kick your ass, bitch." Powell, however, blessed with the infinite equanimity of the British upper class, merely asks Duck to step out so they can have a word, and Duck obliges. Powell takes a deep "Well, that was awkward" breath, and Roger, eyes on the prize, asks if this affects the merger. Powell says no: "He never could hold his liquor." Looks like Duck's going to have a while to contemplate how he managed to lose an election in which he was the only candidate.
Don returns to his office, but Joan stands and urgently tells him that Betty called, and she'd like him to come home. Don tells her she should do the same, but Joan replies that she can't even think right now, as she's worried about Greg because his hospital is on alert. Oh, Joan. She hands Don his coat and hat, but in reference to his bag, he tells her, "I don't need it." Hmm -- does he think he's not coming back? Or is it merely that it's time to leave work aside in this crisis and focus on the important thing -- his family? In any case, he bids her a somber good night.
Peggy's on her way out when she runs into a half-in-the-bag Pete, who positively beams at her. It's unbelievably endearing, especially when he tells her he's doing so because she's still there. He invites her to have a drink with him, and she accepts, coming into this office and sitting on the couch. Meeeeemories! She asks why he's still there, as Trudy must be worried, but he's got his eyes on other things: "You never let me talk about what I want to talk about." She doesn't shut him down, inviting him to go on, so he tells her what she said about telling the truth got him thinking, and he wants to do so with her. After a little verbal dancing, he reveals that he's been thinking about the current dangerous situation, and he wondered who would care if he were gone. He adds that Trudy would care, but she doesn't know him -- but Peggy does, and he knows her. "And I think you're perfect." Just to say this up front, this is one of the best-acted scenes ever on this show, and it starts here, as all joy drains from Peggy's face before she tells Pete she's not perfect. He demurs, and tells her he loves her and wants to be with her.
He's staring at her intensely to give his words the maximum possible gravity, and she's just as deliberately intermittently looking away, but she finally makes up her mind what to do, smiling mirthlessly as she tells him she could have had him forever. "I could have shamed you into being with me. But I didn't want to." Pete's smile fades as he says he doesn't understand, so she closes her eyes and steels herself before telling him about having his baby, and giving it away. He's stunned, so she repeats herself, and tells him, with an almost dreamy recollection, that she wanted other things. He repeats that he doesn't understand, but the answer is sitting right before him -- Peggy's new haircut, the pearls she's wearing, the expensive suit -- they're all symbols of the independence and self-reliance she craved, which are things she could never have had with Pete, and certainly not with him and their child. (Now they might be able to make a relationship work, but that's a different story.) Peggy attempts to put it into words, though: "One day you're there, and then all of a sudden, there's less of you. And you wonder where that part went, if it's living somewhere outside of you, and you keep thinking maybe you'll get it back. And then you realize it's just gone." I think she's talking about herself, not him, in attempting to explain that the part of her that could have been with him is gone, sacrificed on the altar of moving up in the world, but it could of course dually refer to his hot-and-cold behavior toward her back in Season One. (It also eerily applies to Don, and is almost a paraphrase of what he told Anna last episode, which again reflects how similar the two of them are.) Pete heartbreakingly asks why she would tell him this, and she looks regretful as she apologizes, putting a caring hand on his shoulder before leaving. Confession, absolution, and doing things you'd never otherwise do. It's a little long to be a mantra, but that's what's going on. I'm just surprised that Sal didn't try to jump Kurt's bones somewhere in here.
Don arrives home, to the delight of the kids, and sits down with Betty in the living room. They exchange a wordless look before...
...we cross-fade into Pete, still in his office, holding the shotgun he bought last year, something he associated most with Peggy...
...and then to Peggy, lying in bed and making the symbol of the cross, finally having made her peace with God and feeling like a true Catholic for the first time in ages...
...and then to the Draper kitchen, where JFK is talking on the radio and Betty's cleaning up when Don enters. Referring to the development in the Cuban conflict that Pete alluded to earlier, Don intones, "They finally went down." Betty fixes him with a long look and tells him she needs to talk to him, so he shuts off the radio and sits with her, wearing an expectant, almost anxious look. She says she has something to tell him, and starts, "I..." implying from the grammar alone that she's about to reveal her indiscretion. But after thinking it over, she changes course: "I'm pregnant." Don looks completely overcome, as this birth could actually be a rebirth for the two of them, and after taking a moment, he silently holds his hand out to her. Betty takes it, but she's not joyful like he is -- she didn't confess, so she can't share in his newfound peace. What will happen? Will Betty be able to undergo the same self-examination it took Don years to be able to execute? Or will their roles somehow reverse? Whatever happens, I hope we're all around to see it. I want to thank everyone involved in the show -- it really gets the maximum out of every aspect of this medium of storytelling. Thanks for reading and I hope we're still together in Season Three!
John Ramos is a writer and producer living in Los Angeles. You can reach him at couchbaron@gmail.com.
If you want more Mad Men, check out our look at the staff of Sterling Cooper to see if you could stand working there.