Disclaimer – I do not own these characters – they are the property of NBC, John Wells and the fabulous Aaron Sorkin. I do own Emma Lyman and any other characters I invent, but please feel free to borrow them. Just let me know what you're doing with them!
Rating – PG-13
Spoilers – this is a sequel to That Which Time Cannot Erase
Pairings – Sam/Donna, Josh/Ellie
Summary – Sam and Donna's wedding goes off without a hitch – yeah right, come on, how much fun would THAT be????
A/N – Thanks so much to Bartlegg for proofing this chapter and offering some wonderful suggestions!
Sam took a deep breath as he walked back toward the West Wing with Josh – and their entourage of ten Secret Service agents. He was only half- listening to his best friend's rant, his mind focused on seeing Donna.
"What the hell does she think?" Josh griped, his hands flailing wildly as he spoke. "Does she think this is fun for me? Does she think I enjoy sending my wife and child away while I'm stuck here?"
"I think it has nothing to do with her not liking being underground," Sam explained, "I think it has more to do with you still being above ground."
"Yeah," Josh sighed as they arrived at his office door. Donna's feet were propped up on his desk and she held a can of soda in her hand. Strewn over the desk were half a dozen chocolate cupcake wrappers. "What is this?" he asked curiously, a grin forming on his lips.
"I'm depressed," she answered with a pout, sliding into Sam's strong arms as he pulled her out of the chair.
"And you couldn't eat yourself into oblivion in your own office?" Josh asked, finding himself slightly jealous that Sam had the woman he loved in his arms, while Ellie and Emma were currently en route to a top secret location.
"You have a T.V," she explained with a shrug.
"So what do we need to do?" Sam asked, his tone still apologetic.
She tore a sheet of paper in two. "You call everybody on your list, I'll call everybody on mine."
"You're taking this well," Josh commented.
She shot him her best evil look and shifted her weight to her other foot. "Somehow Lyman, this is your fault."
"My fault?" he howled, poking himself in the chest. "How on earth could this possibly be my fault?"
"Everything's your fault," she explained, breezing past him to retrieve her desk phone.
"She's mad," Sam sighed.
"Why is it my fault?" Josh demanded.
"She just needs someone to take it out on," Sam said with a shrug. "You're the closest target." He examined his list and then tore it in half, handing one portion to Josh. "Get busy," he said.
"Why do I have to make calls?"
Sam grinned. "You heard the woman – it's your fault."
"No Mrs. Kellogg," Donna said, wiping a tear flowing down her cheek, "I still want the dresses, I just don't know when we're actually going to use them."
"This must be difficult for you, dear," Mrs. Kellogg replied, sighing with empathy for Donna. "You know I'll do whatever I can."
"Mrs. Kellogg, you have absolutely been the best, I just want you to know that," Donna replied.
"It's been my pleasure," she laughed. "You've been one of my most delightful brides."
Donna laughed as well. "Can I tell Ellie you said that?"
"Of course," Mrs. Kellogg replied. "But, you'll have to tell her she was one of the delightful ones too."
Donna replaced the phone in the cradle and sighed, crossing "Call Bridal Shop" off her list of to-dos. Sam sauntered up beside her desk and leaned on the edge. She gazed up at him with sad eyes.
"I called everyone on my list," he said, handing her the marked up sheet of paper. "Josh is still arguing with the tuxedo shop."
"Why are they arguing?" Donna asked curiously.
Sam shrugged. "Everything's probably totally fine, Josh is just pissed."
"I know the feeling," she scoffed.
Sam knelt down beside her and took her hand in his. "I know this sucks," he said quietly.
"Terrorists suck," she interjected, eliciting a smile from Sam.
"That might be the understatement of the century, my dear," he laughed weakly.
"Sam," she said softly, stroking his hand with her thumb, "calling this off is going to cost a lot of money."
"It's okay," he said with a wave of his hand. "We didn't go nuts in planning it in the first place, so it's okay."
"We'll have to start from scratch when this is all over," she replied, leaning back in her chair. "New date, new location, new everything – except the dresses."
"Unless Ellie decides to have the baby early," Sam mused.
"That's not even remotely funny, Sam," Donna warned.
"She's only six weeks away as it is," he continued, receiving a soft swat on the arm.
"Who's only six weeks away?" Josh asked curiously, striding up to the desk with his sheet of paper.
"Your wife, Josh," Donna explained.
"My wife? Six weeks from what?" Josh was oblivious to the obviousness of the answer.
"From having your second child." Donna spoke flatly.
"God," Josh answered, his eyes wide. "It's really only six weeks?"
"Yep," Donna replied.
"Man," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We've done nothing. The nursery's not even done. Emma's nursery was done, like, five months early."
"They say that happens with the second child," Donna shrugged.
"Yeah," he answered, his tone far-off while he made a mental list. His cell phone rang at his hip and he snatched it off. "Josh Lyman," he answered. He listened for a minute; then flipped the phone shut. "I gotta go," he said, "Security briefing."
Josh sauntered into the Oval Office, watching as his father-in-law paced the floor – his hands shoved into his pants pockets and an angry expression set firmly on his face. Josh sat down on the sofa beside Leo. "What's wrong with him?" he asked quietly.
"What's wrong with me?" President Bartlet bellowed, glaring at Josh, who hadn't anticipated that the older man might actually hear him. "Embassies are being blown up, people are dying, my wife, children and grandchildren are in an underground bunker somewhere and you have the audacity to ask what's wrong with me?"
Josh rolled his eyes. "Not to mention the threat to D.C., Mr. President."
The President stopped his pacing and pointed at his Deputy. "One of these days, Lyman, my patience with you is going to run out and those agents really will shoot you," he threatened.
The door to the Oval Office swung open again and Admiral Fitzwallace and Nancy McNally entered with the Directors of the CIA and NSA. "Mr. President," Fitzwallace began, "we have news."
The President motioned for them to sit and took his place in the wing chair positioned at the head of the small circle the couches and chairs formed. The Admiral nodded at the Director of the NSA. "Mr. President," Adam Minor began slowly, "a small, and until now, minor splinter group of the Bahi organization has claimed responsibility for the bombing of the Syrian embassy. They say that if the United States doesn't pull all troops out of the Middle East, the bombings will continue."
"The entire Middle East?" Josh asked, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me."
"So far that's what the message says," Minor shook his head, "the entire Middle East. They want the United States completely out of Muslim holy lands."
"That's insane," Josh commented.
"And they've proven their sanity up to this point how?" Bartlet countered sarcastically. He turned to Minor and nodded. "What else?"
"We've intercepted radio traffic indicating that the threat to D.C. is specific to the White House, Sir," Minor continued. "How and when, we're still working on that."
"I see," the President sighed heavily.
"We have begun the evacuation of all personnel from the Syrian embassy and the evacuation of all non-essential personnel from all other embassies in the Middle East," Nancy said. "Ambassador Davenport refuses to leave Syria, though, not with Jenny in the hospital."
"What's going on there, Josh?" the President asked his son-in-law.
Josh quickly checked his watch before reporting. "Donna spoke with a nurse at the hospital about two hours ago, who told her that Jenny Davenport was going into surgery and advised Donna to call back later. I told her to check every two hours, so we should be getting an update soon."
"What about the White House?" Leo asked Nancy.
"I recommend the same plan – send all non-essential personnel home. Keep everyone else under close guard," she said with a light shrug.
The President nodded authoritatively. "Let's do that, then."
Leo stood, and everyone else followed suit. "Thanks everybody," he said, ushering everyone except Josh out. He turned back to the younger man and sighed. "Alright, get on it."
"Yes, Sir," Josh said with a nod, swinging around to face the President. "Can I say something as your son-in-law, Mr. President?"
Bartlet glanced up at him with tired and sad eyes and shifted in his chair. "Sure," he said weakly.
Josh sat on the couch and leaned on his knees. "The girls are fine. They are stronger and tougher than you and I ever thought about being. And more importantly, they're safe. I'll worry about everything else with you, but just realize that the women we love are safe."
Jed leaned forward and patted Josh on the knee. "Thanks," he said quietly.
"You got it," Josh replied with a slight grin. "I'm gonna go get rid of everybody now."
Leo pointed at Josh. "You can keep Donna if you want, but everybody else except Senior Staff and Charlie goes."
"Okay," Josh answered, throwing open the door to the Oval Office and stepping outside.
Leo sat down on the couch and stared at the President. Jed looked up at him and sighed again. "The wedding," he said under his breath.
Leo shook his head. "Sam and Donna are taking care of it. Nothing's ever for certain when you work in the White House, and they know that," he said with a small grin.
"Yeah, but this is just..."
Leo nodded. "Yeah." He stood from the couch and clapped his hand onto Jed's shoulder. "I'm gonna go try and get rid of Margaret now."
"Try?" the President asked with a slightly bemused tone.
"You know Margaret," Leo replied with a grin, "She's the queen of 'I work until you stop working'."
"Good luck with that," the President answered, standing and crossing over to his desk.
"Thanks," Leo said, finally making his way back into his office.
TBC...