OK, this is the last chapter of "Aftermath." Hope you enjoyed it. I have started work on a sequel called "Em and Aaron," but since its relation to 24 is a bit more tenuous than "Aftermath," I'm not sure whether to post it. Let me know what you think.

At a loss, Barbara hesitated for a moment; then she caught a twinkle in Kryukov's eye and smiled. "Of course. Please, come in."

Hastening down the hall, she saw Aaron standing distractedly in the kitchen. "Aaron! There's somebody here to see you. He says he knows you from Moscow. His name's Ivan… something."

"Kryukov?"

"I think so. He says he has a wedding present for you and he came from Washington."

Grabbing his sister's arm, Aaron headed for the front door. His face split into a grin as he saw Kryukov standing patiently in the hall. "Ivan Kryukov! How are you?" As they shook hands, he added, "What brings you here, and how did you find me?"

"It is good to see you, Aaron. I am here to deliver a present from President and Mrs. Suvarov. I asked if I could bring it to you personally, but I did not intend to interrupt you on your wedding day… which, I gather, I did," he added, eyeing Barbara, whose pale yellow chiffon dress clearly telegraphed bridesmaid. "As to how I found you, I considered it a challenge, although your Service was able to give me some useful directions."

Aaron chuckled. "You haven't interrupted anything. The wedding isn't for another two hours. Come in, have some coffee – let me get Martha, she'll be very happy to see you. Barb, take him to the kitchen and we'll be right there," he added.

A few minutes later a bewildered Martha hurried into the kitchen. "Agent Kryukov!" she beamed, holding out her hands. "It's wonderful that you're here! Aaron tells me you came all this way to bring us a present?"

"At the request of President and Mrs. Suvarov, yes." Kryukov gestured to a large box wrapped in white tissue paper. "Open it."

The box held an antique samovar made of copper with a beautifully enameled design. "Mrs. Suvarov chose it herself," Kryukov explained. "She hopes you will enjoy it."

"It's beautiful." Martha carefully set the samovar in a shaft of sunlight, admiring the gleaming metal. "It will have a place of honor in our home, I can promise you." Glancing at her watch, she added, "I have to finish getting ready, but please do come to the wedding. It's very small, just the family and a few friends, but we would love it if you could be there with us."

"Absolutely!" Aaron agreed. "You'll be very welcome, Ivan. After the ceremony we'll come back here for a meal." He pulled out a chair from the table. "Sit down, tell me what you've been doing lately."

Martha shot him a look. "You will be there on time, won't you?"

Kryukov chuckled. "Have no fear. He will be there on time."

True to his word, Kryukov shepherded Aaron and Bill into the church a good thirty minutes before the ceremony, remaining near the back for a moment to eye the street for suspicious characters. Jon introduced him to the Service agents posted at the back of the church and was glad to see that Kryukov remembered Agent Mitchell. Meanwhile at the front of the sanctuary Bill and Aaron conferred briefly with the minister, while Nathan tried to straighten his bow tie for the fourth or fifth time. Finally Kryukov took him aside and adjusted the tie so that it sat evenly: "It's part of my job," he smiled. "I wear black tie quite often in the course of my work."

Upstairs Barbara, Ann and Jennifer were making the final adjustments to Martha's dress. Ann stood behind her, fastening her buttons while Jennifer held the veil ready.

"Here, Martha. This is for your hair." Barbara carefully pulled a few strands of Martha's hair back from each side of her face, fastening them with a small blue hair clip. "Now the veil goes over this. This is your 'something borrowed and something blue.'"

"The dress is new, right? What's old?" Jennifer inquired.

"My earrings. They're my favorites." Martha adjusted them carefully. They had been an anniversary gift from Charles many years before, and it felt right to her to wear a memento from her past as she began a new life.

Angie bustled into the dressing room. "The minister is giving us the go sign. Everything ready?"

"We're ready." Martha flashed her a grin and took a final look in the mirror. "Jen, you do great work. This is fantastic." She hugged each of them, took a deep breath and said, "All right, ladies, let's go downstairs."

Because of the small size of the wedding party, Martha and Aaron had chosen to hold the ceremony in the church's ancillary chapel. They both liked the intimate feel of the smaller space. There was no grand procession: Aaron, standing near the altar, felt slightly conspicuous until the doors at the back were pulled open and Ann walked quietly down the aisle. Barbara, the matron of honor, followed her and then Martha stood at the back of the chapel with the afternoon sunshine lighting her hair. Aaron, staring at her, forgot everything else. She's radiant, he thought.

Martha had elected to walk down the aisle without an escort. "I don't think I need anyone to give me away, do you?" she'd asked Aaron. "Besides, who would do it? Mike?" Aaron had laughed and agreed. In the few moments it took for her to reach him, he knew she had been right; she needed no one's help. Remembering the challenges she had faced and conquered in the past year, he felt proud and amazed that she had agreed to marry him. As Martha reached his side, they looked at one another for a moment, linked hands and turned to face the minister.

"These pictures are taking longer than it did for us to get married," Aaron muttered.

"I know, sweetheart, but it'll be worth it when we see them. He's almost done." Martha patted his shoulder. A few minutes later the photographer released them and with sighs of relief the wedding party headed out of the church. "What's this?" Aaron wondered, coming to a halt at the curb: A white vintage convertible was awaiting them, driven by a young man wearing a Stetson, a tuxedo and a huge grin. Nathan whooped, ran over and pounded the driver on the back. "Dad, you remember Frank Emerson, don't you?" he demanded. "We borrowed the car from his dad. I didn't want to tell you in case Mr. Emerson wouldn't let us take it."

"You're kidding! Nathan, this is fantastic." Aaron hugged his son and shook Frank's hand. "His dad collects vintage cars," he explained to Martha. "Frank, be sure to tell your dad I said thank you." Opening the rear door, he ushered Martha in and then joined her in the back seat. Frank tooted the horn in celebration as they pulled away from the church, waved back at the rest of the wedding party and headed for the ranch.

"Don't change yet. You have to have your first dance in your wedding clothes." Gertrude intercepted Aaron and Bill as they were headed upstairs.

The brothers glanced at each other. "Ah, Mom. This monkey suit is driving me nuts," Bill objected.

"It's just one dance. You boys look so nice in your suits. Please?"

Aaron grinned and clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Mom's right, Bill. Martha and Ann spent a lot of time getting ready. I think they'd love a dance in their good clothes. Let's go make our wives happy."

As Aaron led Martha to the dance floor, the band struck up a slow tune. Martha had wondered what sort of first dance a country-western band would have in its repertoire, but suddenly she recognized the words:

Come with me, my love

To the sea

The sea of love…

She closed her eyes and held him tightly as they made the circuit of the patio to the applause of the family. Then Bill and Ann joined them, as did Jane and Mike.

Barbara stood alone watching the couples on the dance floor. Although both Aaron and Martha had asked her to invite someone to the wedding, she had refused, insisting that she would be fine on her own. She felt desolate for a moment, until she felt a light tap on her shoulder.

"Shall we dance?" Kryukov asked her.

The barbecue was a huge success. Everyone was in a mood to celebrate, there was plenty to eat and the casual feel of the reception was something everyone appreciated. Barbara was clearly having a wonderful time, as she danced with Kryukov, Mike and even Nathan. Mike took Martha for a spin around the dance floor, which gave her a chance to speak with him.

"You look happy, Mike."

"I am, Martha," he smiled. "Life is good. I'm really enjoying myself for the first time in a long time."

"Jane looks happy, too."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "I believe she is. I certainly hope she is. She's made me very happy."

Martha smiled. "She says the two of you are having a wonderful time. She told me you spoil her rotten."

"Well, she deserves it. You know that just as well as I do. I'm trying to slow down a bit, I don't want to spend all that much time at work these days. I don't want to neglect her."

Martha hugged him. "Mike, I'm so happy for both of you. I think you're really good for each other."

"I think we are too," Mike nodded. "I don't want to rush things, but I think we're both in this for the long term. I promised myself I'm not going to disappoint Jane again – she's been through that too many times."

She kissed his cheek affectionately. "Terrific. Just invite us to the wedding, okay?"

"Martha!" He laughed. "Give me a chance to propose, would you?"

All too soon it was time for them to leave. Martha had packed the night before, and their suitcases were standing ready at the front door when she and Aaron took a last farewell of the family and prepared to head for the El Paso airport, chauffeured in style in the Emerson's convertible. "She rides great, Mrs. Pierce. I think you'll be really comfortable," Frank smiled, gesturing to the car. Martha blinked for a second, adjusting to her new married name with an inner thrill. "I'm sure we will be. Thank you so much for doing this. And thank you, Nathan," she added, giving her new stepson a hug. "This was so thoughtful of you." Nathan grinned and kissed her cheek. "Anything for you, Em. You're the best thing that ever happened to Dad," he whispered.

A few hours later Aaron and Martha found themselves in Mexico en route to their hotel. As they walked into the lobby, Martha realized that she was feeling slightly self-conscious. I'm grinning like an idiot, she thought. We must look like typical honeymooners. She shrugged off her embarrassment after a moment, feeling a deep contentment at being nothing more than part of an average honeymoon couple. She stood to one side, smiling at her husband, as the management checked them in; then Aaron took her hand and led her across the patio, following the bellboy with their luggage. Martha felt her heart beginning to pound with anticipation as they as they approached the door to their room – but suddenly their path was blocked by none other than Jon Cardona. "Sorry, Aaron, you know the rules," he apologized with a grin. He took the room key from the staffer, waved Martha and Aaron to one side and walked into the suite, accompanied by a very uncomfortable looking Agent Mitchell. He began looking behind curtains, under the bed and inspecting the picture frames in a leisurely manner. "Mitchell, check the bathroom, would you?" he added. After about three minutes Martha began to look impatient; in five she was tapping her foot and glaring at Aaron, who was beginning to look slightly annoyed himself.

"Jon, is this absolutely necessary?" she snapped.

"Yes, ma'am. Tabloids." Cardona's reply was terse.

"Tabloids?" Martha squeaked.

"I can think of a lot of papers that would pay good money for a picture of you on your honeymoon." Martha looked stricken. Jon relented and added, "I admit part of this was me giving Aaron a hard time, but we can't be too careful." As Mitchell exited the bathroom he glanced between the two of them and asked, "Sure you don't want me to stick around? Get up a game of cribbage or something?"

"Do you know where this suitcase is going to be in thirty seconds if you don't leave?" Martha responded icily.

"I'll take that as a no." Cardona laughed. "Call me in the morning or if you need anything."

"I can't believe this. How are we supposed to enjoy our honeymoon without any privacy at all?" Having shut the door behind Jon, Martha was visibly upset.

"Martha." Aaron walked across the room to hug her. "I don't enjoy having company on my honeymoon any more than you do, but after what happened, you know we didn't have a choice. President Gardner had to convince Congress to agree to your exemption for the next six months – you were supposed to be disqualified for Secret Service protection as soon as you married again. I'm grateful that he did that."

Martha sighed. "I am too, Aaron. It was nice of him, and you're right, we didn't have a choice. But I am not going to have Agent Mitchell trailing around after me like a lost dog for the next five days. I'll push him into the pool if he tries it."

Aaron laughed at the idea. "As long as we stay in here," he suggested, "they won't bother us. Maybe we could just order room service."

"But listen to that surf," his bride countered. "We've got to do some ocean swimming." They were silent for a moment, listening to the distant thunder of waves on the beach. Martha beckoned Aaron out onto the balcony, which was lit by the rising moon. The night air was full of the smell of flowers; Aaron put his arms around Martha and they stood quietly enjoying the peaceful view.

"This is incredible," Martha murmured. "I don't think I've ever seen a more beautiful place."

"Neither have I." He looked into her eyes, feeling his heart skip a beat as she smiled back at him. "Do – do you want dinner or anything?"

"No. I'm still full from the barbecue."

"Then I think we should go inside."

"And unpack?" she teased.

"No, and have some fun. We can unpack tomorrow."

Martha leaned into him, slid a finger under his collar and kissed his neck. Moving her lips up toward his ear, she whispered, "That sounds like a good idea," and slid her hands down past his waist. A few seconds later she had wrapped herself around him as much as it was possible to do while they were still fully clothed.

Aaron closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the pleasure he felt from her every movement. On the one hand he wanted to stay on the balcony and keep kissing her; on the other, the urge to go back to the bedroom was growing stronger by the second. Suddenly he had an idea. "Don't move," he muttered, leaning over.

Martha gasped and giggled as he picked her up, dashed inside and laid her in the middle of the bed. He quickly headed back to close the door to the balcony, but she was already half undressed when he returned seconds later. "Hurry up," she commanded, taking his hand and tugging him down beside her. "I've been waiting to get you alone all day."

The following morning Aaron opened his eyes just enough to register that it was daylight and then immediately closed them again. Reaching out to confirm that his wife was next to him, he turned onto his side, put his arms around her and relaxed back into sleep – or so he thought.

"I'm hungry."

"Huh."

She kissed his forehead. "I'm starving."

"Order something," he mumbled.

"I'll have you, on toast."

This made him laugh. "You can have the toast with me on the side for later."

"Did I wear you out?"

"You did for a fact. And I don't regret a second of it." This was true. Her lovemaking the night before had been full of joy, not the desperation he had sensed in her for the past two months, and he had spent the entire night thanking God for her recovery. Aaron knew neither of them would ever forget their wedding night; to describe it as "active" would have been an understatement. He had delighted in doing everything she liked best. He suddenly realized that he was hungry, too.

"We burned a lot of calories last night, and we didn't have dinner. Do you want room service?"

"I thought about that, but I'd really like to get a look at the hotel. We didn't get to see much of it last night. Why don't we go downstairs?"

"Good idea. Let's get dressed. I'll call Jon first and let him know we're going to the dining room." Martha groaned; he added, "They aren't going to have the buffet line staked out or anything. I just need to let him know. Go shower." He patted her behind and reached for the phone.

Watching the happy couple devour an enormous breakfast shortly afterward, Jon smiled to himself and drew his own conclusions. I'm glad somebody had fun last night, he thought philosophically (his wife's flight from Texas back to Washington had left about the same time he had accompanied the former First Lady to Mexico). Benevolently, he followed them around the hotel compound and out to the pool.

"Jon, can we swim?"

"Of course you can. It's completely up to you – it's your vacation, after all. Just give me a call and let us know what you want to do. Five minute's notice is all we need."

She beamed at him. "Thank you, Jon."

The next few days settled the Pierces into a peaceful routine of eating, swimming and reading. Knowing they had only five days for a honeymoon made them eager to savor every moment of their time together. One afternoon, after sitting on the balcony staring at the ocean while Aaron read, Martha suddenly got up, headed inside and reappeared with a pad of paper and a pen. She began scribbling notes, stared into space tapping the pen on the arm of her chair, then began writing again. Aaron watched her for a moment.

"You working on a speech?"

She hesitated for a moment. "No, I'm thinking about writing a book."

"A book? You mean like a memoir?"

"Sort of. I don't want to just reiterate what happened to me. I want to explain what I learned from it all. What's really important in life, like being with someone you love and doing work that you love, and not to confuse money with happiness – oh, does that sound too clichéd?"

"No, it's the truth. Martha, what you're talking about is something everybody has to learn for themselves, but it's not an easy thing to learn. If you want to tell your story, I think it's a wonderful idea. People will listen to what you have to say. They know you've been through some tough times, they know you're not perfect. You've earned their respect."

The pen and paper went flying as Martha slid out of her chair and threw her arms around him. "I love you," she whispered, close to tears. "You are the most incredible person. How did I get lucky enough to be married to you?"

"I've been asking myself the same thing for days about you. Martha, I'm just – I'm ordinary. Sometimes I still can't believe that we're together, that I'm not boring you to death."

"Trust me, you are not ordinary. You're brave, romantic, gorgeous, trustworthy…" she smiled at his flush. "And modest. But definitely not ordinary. And there is no way that you will ever bore me."

Aaron found himself remembering her words several days later as they pulled into the White House guest entrance. He would sooner have been dragged through Washington by a pack of wild horses than attend the Gardners' reception, but he had reminded himself that Martha deserved her moment in the sun and that he had, after all, married one of the most remarkable women in the world. The occasional public event was just the price he would have to pay for doing so. He braced himself and took Martha's arm as she stepped from the limousine.

She eyed him for a moment. "You look like you're about to be burned at the stake."

"I thought I was smiling."

Martha reached up and tickled his cheek gently. "Now you're smiling. Did I mention you look great with a tan, Mr. Pierce?"

"So do you, Mrs. Pierce. Now let's go in and get this thing over with."

The reception turned out to be more enjoyable than Aaron had expected, though the Gardners clearly weren't sure how to deal with him on a social basis; he found it easier to talk to the Suvarovs, who were delighted to see him. Martha moved from group to group, introducing him to various friends of hers. Every once in a while Aaron would move away to the side of the room on the pretext of revisiting the buffet line and spend a few minutes chatting with Cardona or Kryukov, who had accompanied the Suvarovs to the reception. Eventually he found himself waved back to the party by Martha. Toward the end of the afternoon he found himself standing with a small group of men huddled around a BlackBerry checking football scores. "My wife will kill me if she catches me doing this," the BlackBerry owner muttered.

"So will mine." Aaron smiled. After a few moments' chat about football, his new acquaintance introduced himself as a publisher with a New York firm.

"Really? A publisher? My wife is thinking about writing a book."

"Tell me more." The publisher perked up instantly, pocketing his BlackBerry. "I'd be very interested to speak with your wife about a contract."

"Come with me. I'll introduce you. Martha?" Martha turned inquiringly. "This is Mr. James Grant. He's a publisher and he's interested in talking to you about your book."

Martha's face lit up. "How do you do?" she asked shaking Grant's hand. "I'm Em Pierce."

THE END