"Happy anniversary," Charlie said softly, reaching out across the table to brush a strand of Zoey's hair back.

"It's not our anniversary," Zoey replied. "Our anniversary isn't for months."

"Not our wedding anniversary," Charlie told her. "A different one."

"First kiss? First date? First date without the Secret Service?" she guessed, smiling at him, candlelight dancing across her face. She'd wondered at the romantic setting she'd come home to find, but she'd learned not to question until Charlie was ready to tell her.

"Nope," Charlie answered, pouring out some more wine for both of them.

"Then what?" she demanded impatiently. "Or do I have to start treating you like a hostile witness?"

"Today's the anniversary of the day I bought your engagement ring," he told her, reaching into his pocket and setting a velvet box on the table.

Zoey laughed. "I think you were just looking for the opportunity to open a bottle of good wine and ogle me in the candlelight." She stopped as she saw the jewellery box.

"I picked it out last week, but I bought it today," Charlie told her. "I was going to wait for our anniversary to give it to you, but I couldn't wait."

"The Democratic convention was two weeks ago," Zoey noted. "That means you bought the ring two weeks after…"

"After your dad caught in outside your bedroom in the Residence?" Charlie finished. "Yeah. And after I told him we'd been sleeping together for a while and accidentally asked him for permission to marry you."

"How…"

"Let's just say that it wasn't a conversation I wanted to have, and especially not in the Oval Office."

-------------------------------------------------------------

"The day we picked to hold our press conference would have to be the first rainy day in a month," Toby grumbled. "And we couldn't have scheduled it indoors. Oh, no, we had to put it on the Capital steps. Imagery obscured by precipitation."

"Patrick and I are California boys," Sam teased, draping a brotherly arm around Patrick's shoulders. "We shouldn't have to deal with this kind of thing; it's why we grudgingly consent to keep you New Englanders around."

Patrick smiled shyly, glad to have been accepted into the tight-knit group of former Bartlet staffers. Although Toby was still complaining about the student's lack of verb tenses, he'd praised his proper grasp of punctuation a few times. Even though he knew Toby was just trying to annoy Sam, he hadn't been able to stop himself from flushing with embarrassment as his eyes flashed with pleasure.

This was judgment day. CJ was imparting wisdom to an extremely nervous Jeff, giving him tips for briefing a group of people that had been his fellow political reporters until he'd been transferred off politics only a few weeks ago. She knew it was impossible to tell him everything in the few minutes they had left before it all began, but she was doing her best to reassure him; there wasn't time for anything else. Besides, briefing the press was something that he was just going to have to learn on his own.

People were gathered in excited clusters, nervously playing with their closed umbrellas. Alex's parents had just called to let her know they were walking over from their car. Fellow Congressmen were stopping by to wish Alex well and give her their support. And the people who were most involved were exchanging triumphant looks with one another. They knew how hard it had been to just get this far. And despite how much there was still to come, they knew it was a victory just to have made it this far.

Jack had disappeared somewhere to deal with a few last minute logistical difficulties, leaving Alex alone to wrestle all three kids into their proper outerwear. Although the six-year-old twins usually loved dressing up in their matching crimson jackets, today they were much more impressed with the full skirts of their blue dresses, and Nick had decided that he was 'never ever going to wear his sailor jacket ever again.'

Even with Sarah and Donna helping Alex, they weren't making much progress. "Becky," Sarah pleaded, "if you don't put your jacket on, you're going to get your pretty dress all wet."

"That won't happen," Becky declared seriously. "Uncle Sam said that he was going to share his umbrella with us." She twirled around happily, watching as her skirt billowed out around her. "He said that the umbrella would keep all of the rain off."

Sarah glared across the room at Sam, where he stood with Patrick and James McNamara, two of the newest additions to the team. "Well, then Uncle Sam should be the one to help you on with your jacket," she suggested irritably.

"But we don't need help with our jackets," Abby told Sarah. "We just don't want to wear them." And she skipped off, leaving Donna standing behind her, red jacket in hand.

Becky squirmed her own way out of Sarah's reach and scurried away to join her sister hiding beneath a desk. Giggles from the two girls rose from beneath the polished wood as they listened to their four-year-old brother argue with their increasingly frustrated mother.

"Nikolai Ivanovich," she said firmly, "if you don't put this jacket on right now, you're going to have to stay here all alone while the rest of us go outside to see all of the nice people out here."

"Fine," Nick replied, crossing his arms. "I don't wanna go outside anyway."

Alex threw her hands up in the air, completely frustrated with her attempts to get her children to co-operate. "I give up," she declared.

"Mind if I try?" Patrick asked. "I've got a couple of little brothers back home."

Alex willingly surrendered the jacket. "Go ahead," she told him. "I hope you have better luck than I've had." Giving up on Nick completely, she sighed and started toward the desk the twins were sheltering under, hoping to have slightly better luck with the girls.

To her surprise, James McNamara had already lured them out with promises that he would take them out for ice cream sundaes after the press conference if they behaved themselves. He shrugged at Alex as he helped first one girl and then the other into their coats. "My ex-wife and I have two little girls," he explained. "The youngest is twelve now, but she still can be bribed with ice cream."

"I guess you never get too old for that," Alex agreed, smiling half-heartedly. With the kids finally taken care of, she had time to start worrying about the press conference itself. Fighting with the kids had at least provided her with some distraction. Now she had nothing.

Donna, seeing that Alex was free, crossed the room to press a copy of the speech into her hands. "Between Patrick, Sam, and Toby, they made some more changes. I think they just tightened up the language this time, figuring that it would be a bad idea to have someone drown in a puddle."

Alex nodded, swallowing hard. "This is the final draft then?" she asked.

Donna shrugged. "Unless they decide to change it again in the time we've got left. Which I wouldn't necessarily put past them," she joked.

"I guess that I'd better read this then," she said, opening the black folder to reveal the neatly printed white pages. She turned away from the rest of the people and started to quietly mouth the words. She didn't want to stumble over unfamiliar phrases while she was behind the podium and out in front of the press.

"Um, guys," she called out after a moment, "when you say 'the funding feathers' you mean 'the founding fathers,' right?"

"We'll fix that," Sam replied. "And don't bother reading the fourth paragraph on the second page yet, Toby's still working on that one."

"Are you aware that we've got less than ten minutes left before I have to go out, in front of the press, and give this speech?" Alex demanded, her voice rising in volume as she continued. "This speech that you're still writing!"

"We'll have it for you in a couple of minutes," Sam reassured her. "Just as soon as we find a place to print it."