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 to everyone who has reviewed this story.

A/N - Bartlegg, you're a bloody genius, you know that?

"Mrs. Kellogg!" C.J. bellowed as she threw open the door of the bridal shop, "I'm here, I'm here," she said in a sing-song, rap-style voice.

"For goodness sakes, Claudia," Mrs. Kellogg answered, brushing her hands over the apron covering her dress, sending multi-colored threads sailing over the pink carpet. "I think I heard you coming a mile away! In fact you were singing...I swear you were singing. What were you singing, Claudia?"

"Oh, just a little something I'm practicing for the wedding" CJ smirked.

"Well, you have a voice as beautiful as your eyes"

"Thank you!" C.J. answered, a wide, toothy smile spreading across her face. "This is going to be the coolest wedding ever!"

"Yes, well," Mrs. Kellogg muttered, waving for C.J. to follow her. Donna's wedding gown and bridesmaids' dresses were hung on a hook near the alteration room door. Mrs. Kellogg reached for the hangers; then turned to C.J. "Be a dear," she said to the much taller woman.

C.J. grabbed the hangers and slung the dresses over her shoulder, following Mrs. Kellogg back to the main register. "So, when's the big event?" she asked, scribbling notes on a sheet of paper.

"Tomorrow afternoon," C.J. said proudly, "at four o'clock. We'd love for you to be there. In fact," she said, digging through her pockets, "I have an invitation here for you."

Mrs. Kellogg examined the invitation. "It must be good to be the President," she mused with a smile.

"It helps that there's a print shop in the White House," C.J. laughed.

"I'd love to be there," Mrs. Kellogg replied, handing C.J. the paper she'd been writing on. "These are the instructions for steaming the dresses," she explained. "Just because this wedding is last minute doesn't mean I want my sweet Donna wrinkled."

C.J. examined the sheet carefully. "Got it," she answered, pocketing the sheet. "Will this be your first time at the White House?"

"No," Mrs. Kellogg replied, "Dr. Bartlet had me over for tea one afternoon before Eleanor's wedding."

"Wow, and all these years, I've never had tea with the First Lady," C.J. teased.

"Get out of my store, Claudia," Mrs. Kellogg replied with a smirk. "I'm sure you have a million things to do."

"Nine hundred, ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine now," she smarted back, leaning over to kiss the older woman's cheek. "You're the best, Mrs. K."

"Just remember that when you get married," she called after C.J.'s retreating form.

C.J. whipped around and raised an eyebrow, putting on her best dramatic face. "Perish the thought," she said with a grin, making her way out of the store.

Toby rounded the corner of his office quietly, actually on his tip-toes in an effort to prevent Sam from hearing him. "Toby!" Ginger exclaimed, rising from her desk with phone messages in hand; then staring at Toby in wide-eyed amazement when he attempted to silence her by waving his arms around.

"Toby?" Sam questioned from the doorway of his office.

Toby ran his wildly flailing hands through his hair and spun around to face him. "Hello, Sam."

Sam laughed. "Hello, Sam? That's all I get? No, sorry I've left you in a lurch all afternoon, writing your little heart out?"

Toby shifted his weight repeatedly from one foot to the other and concentrated on a spot somewhere above Sam's head. "I'm sorry I left you in a lurch all afternoon, writing your little heart out," he repeated half-heartedly; turning to his office door. "How is the speech coming, by the way?"

"It's done," Sam answered angrily.

"Can I see it?" Toby requested, attempting to ignore Sam's tone.

"No, you may not," Sam replied, stalking back to his own office. "I apparently didn't need your help to write it, so I don't need to your help to review it."

Toby snickered irritably. "Has anyone other than you looked at it?"

"Yes," Sam answered, "Donna looked at it, and she says it's brilliant."

"She's a little BIASED!" Toby bellowed, holding out his hand, "where's the speech?"

"No," Sam said with a shake of his head. "You're being punished." He sat down in his chair with a huff while Toby seethed in the doorway. "And for that matter, where in the hell have you been?"

"What are you, my mother? Or are you just channeling Donna there?" Toby tried a smile, but was met with a cold glare from Sam. "I was out," Toby replied, concentrating on a new spot above Sam's head.

"Out?" Sam repeated incredulously.

"Out," Toby said again, shrugging.

"Out where?"

"Starbucks," he answered quickly.

Sam shook his head in exasperation. "You went back to Starbucks? What, being stuck there for eighteen hours wasn't enough?"

"I forgot something," Toby lied, accepting the stack of phone messages from Ginger and pretending to read them.

"You forgot something," Sam repeated.

"Am I stuttering or do you need hearing aids?" Toby replied irritably.

"You're lying," Sam said, peering at Toby with narrowed eyes.

"No," Toby scoffed. "I told you, I forgot something."

"And it took you five hours to retrieve it?" Sam demanded.

"They were busy!" Toby yelled out of frustration. "And I want that speech on my desk in five minutes!"

"If you want it, you'll find it," Sam tossed out, breezing past Toby and out of the Communications bullpen.

"And so my fellow Americans," Bartlet said into the television monitors in the Oval Office, reading the speech Sam had written from the teleprompter, "it is with a tempered heart that I tell you Jenny Davenport is out of surgery tonight, recovering from the injuries she suffered in the brutal attack on our Embassy in Syria..."

"This is good," Josh nodded from his position against the wall, "really good."

"Thanks," Sam said, beaming with pride. "Did Toby ever read it?"

"Yeah, I think he got a copy from Margaret," Josh answered. "I don't think he had time to change anything."

"Good," Sam replied, causing Josh's head to whip around with a startled expression. "He's being punished."

"For going back to Starbucks and leaving you all alone?" Josh teased.

"Is a phone call too much to ask?"

Josh swallowed a laugh and slapped Sam on the shoulder. "Spoken like a true metrosexual husband."

Sam turned to glare at his best friend. "Somehow, that was a thinly veiled insult."

"No, not at all. There's no telling what I could get Ellie to do if I acted more like you," Josh explained.

"Maybe you should try it sometime," Sam replied. "A little common courtesy never hurt anyone."

"Shhh, he's finishing up," Josh shot back with a grin.

"Isn't there someone else who's not the Deputy Chief of Staff who could do this?" Josh griped as he and Toby carried yet another heavy table over to the spot where Abbey had just dictated it should be. The White House stewards still hadn't returned to work, so the team was on their own and Josh knew it.

"What's the matter Josh?" Jed teased in his best "you're being a real baby" voice, "Is this work beneath you?" he asked, moving a much smaller and lighter table with Leo.

"It's not beneath me," Josh argued, walking backward to move the set the table in pace. "It's just heavy," he whined.

"Aw, poor Joshie," the President teased with a pout.

Josh and Toby nearly dropped the table and Josh glared at his father-in-law. "You come over here and move this table for the nine-hundredth time, and we'll see how long it takes me to say 'Aw, poor Jed'."

"You called me Jed," he answered, returning the glare, "we're not alone, Mr. Deputy Chief of Staff. You will address me as Mr. President."

"No offense, Mr. President, but bite me," Josh answered with a grin.

"Bite me? Bite...not even a sir...Bite me! That's it!" Jed bellowed, waving his hand at the door. "Ron, get in here!" He waited for the head of the Secret Service detail to enter before continuing. He waved his hand again - this time at his widely grinning son-in-law. "He just insulted the President, Ron. Isn't there something you do about that?"

"Unfortunately, Mr. President, he's protected by that little thing called 'Free Speech'," Ron replied with a tight-lipped smile. "But if he actually comes at you, I'm all over it."

"The night's still young," Josh teased.

"Does it matter if I provoke him or not?" the President asked seriously.

"No, Sir," Ron laughed, "not at all."

"Fabulous!" Jed replied, clapping his hands together.

"Are you boys done with your little horse-play?" Abbey demanded, waving her hand dramatically between them. "This table still isn't right. Josh, Toby, get your asses over here and move it."

"Why are we doing this again?" Toby asked as they lifted the table once more.

"Apparently, we actually like Sam when we're not moving 200 lbs. tables for his for wedding reception" Josh replied.

As they put the table in its place, Toby added a positive note, "You know, I think I'm starting to get the hang of this."

As they lugged another table, Josh agreed, "You know what? Me too."

"There's not that many left."

"We'll be done in no time"

"No problem" Toby agreed.

"No problem at- AHH MY FOOT!"

Toby apologized as Josh writhed in pain. "Oh, sorry there, table must of slipped..."

Ellie arrived at Josh's side in an instant, helping him to stand upright and move over to the chairs. "Wimp," Abbey chided from the sidelines. Charlie stuck his head in the door, took one look around and shut the door again. "Not so fast!" she yelled, grabbing the door, and dragging Charlie inside. "Josh just smashed his foot, and you're the only other son-in-law I can order around."

"Technically, Mrs. Bartlet, Doug is your other son-in-law," Charlie reminded her.

"Yes, but I don't like him as much as I like you," she answered with a toothy grin.

Charlie rolled his eyes and stripped his tie off, tossing onto a chair beside Josh. "Thanks, man."

"No problem," Josh replied with a salute.

Toby planted his hands on his hips, nearly growling at Josh, "There is no way that you're hurt that bad. In fact, you probably made me drop the table on purpose."

Josh's eyes widened. "On purpose! I wanted this?"

Toby smirked. "Yeah, to get you out of all this hard labor, a little 'oopsy can't work I'm-a-hurtin' in me toes' injury."

Josh had the urge to punch the communications director right there. "So your blaming ME for YOUR dropping of the table? No wonder you're the communications director."

Toby's face turned red. "Why you-"

"Boys, really!" Abbey chided. "We have a lot of work to do and very little time to do it. Josh, work through the pain and help Leo and Jed. Charlie and Toby will have to deal with the big tables."

C.J. and Zoey wandered in through a side door to the ballroom, covered in freshly pressed light taupe tablecloths. "Mrs. Bartlet, where do you want these?" C.J. asked.

"She won't need them until she decides where in the hell she wants these damned tables!" Toby muttered under his breath.

"I heard that Ziegler!" the First Lady exclaimed, whipping around to glower at him. "The damned table, as you so eloquently put it, is fine right there."

"Thank you, Mrs. Bartlet," Toby replied, his tone feigning the apology she knew he didn't feel.

"Only three more to go," she smirked. Toby dropped his head on the table and smacked it lightly twice.

A wail emitted from the baby monitor Ellie had attached to her hip. Josh grinned and grabbed the monitor. "I'll be back in a little while, my kid's calling." He made a break for the door, but Ellie grabbed the hem of his t-shirt. "Not without me you don't."

"Traitors!" Toby and Charlie yelled in unison.

They worked in near silence for another two hours, Abbey dictating where she wanted tables, Ellie and Zoey draping the tablecloths and setting the vases for the florists to fill tomorrow morning. The men controlled their griping, being reminded by the women every so often why there were all gathered together. At four-thirty in the morning, the group stood together near the entrance to the ballroom, surveying the work they'd done.

"It's beautiful," Abbey echoed everyone else's sentiment.

"We should go into business after this whole President thing is over," Ellie replied.

"NO!" the men bellowed together - a united front against the idea of moving tables for the rest of their lives.

"Okay, okay," Ellie threw her hands up in surrender; then yawned. "I'm going to the Residence to get some sleep."

"Set the alarm for the seven, will you?" Josh asked, already following her out the door.

"You got it," she replied, wrapping her arm around his waist.

"You do good work, honey," Jed said, taking Abbey's hand.

"And the florists haven't even worked their magic yet," she beamed.

"I can't wait to see it all pulled together," he said, kissing her temple gently.

TBC...