A/N: Hey, guys. This is the final chapter. At least, for now, anyway. g> I want to thank all of you guys for reading, and reviewing. This story gave me the most amount of reviews I've ever had. And hey!--if this isn't up to your expectations, I sincerely apologize. I began this in the evening and finished it at the dead of night. I wanted all the details perfect. I'm posting this unbetaed, though, so all mistakes are mine. And I do not, copy, do not own West Wing. Or Ainsley or Sam. Other than that, enjoy. And it's been fun.


The sunset was beautiful. The red and orange of the fading sun streamed through the stained glass windows, casting jagged, asymmetrical shapes onto the floor in different colors. The air was cool, and the doors to the cathedral were thrust open, allowing entrance for guests. Sam knew instinctively that no more people would be coming, but he was grateful for the opening. The cool air washed over him, like a tide, and it cooled his nervous sweat. You're going to get married. You're going to get married. And suddenly, Sam Seaborn felt very, very queasy.


Ainsley Hayes was sitting in a room in the back, where the air wasn't circulating, feeling very, very heated, and in a bad way. She was swathed in white tulle and the heat was beginning to seep into her pores. Can heat do that? And she remembered thinking that the steam pipe trunk distribution venue would be cooler than this venerable hell. Was that five minutes ago? Donna and CJ were fanning themselves with…paper of some kind.

"Are you ready?" She gazed at her dressed form in the mirror. Brushing tiny, wispy platinum strands from her face, she smiled…and nodded.

Donna and CJ grinned, and took their places, dressed stylishly in dark violet satin. They grasped their bouquets, and headed to the door leading to the aisle. CJ turned quickly. "Are you ready?" Ainsley released a breath and smiled, before nodding. And then the large mahogany doors opened, and Ainsley felt…royal. The bridal party began to proceed down the carpet. Ainsley watched as each of her bridesmaids, and her maid-of-honor, proceeded down the aisle with grace, even in their heels. She hoped she wouldn't slip and fall on her face. And would it kill them to keep muffins in the bridal room? Just because they were women didn't mean they didn't eat. She linked her arm with her father, who smiled at her. Her right foot, bequeathed in a white strappy sandal, was set on the red carpet. The organ began to play. And she felt young again.

She slowly made her way down the aisle, feeling like she was gliding, and her eyes never left the eyes of the man standing at the end of the line. She grinned even larger.


Sam watched as Ainsley proceeded down the aisle. Her face was lit up with a wonderful glow, and her bright smile made him want to smile. He would have if not for the sheer fact that he was horrendously nervous. He almost forgot to take Ainsley's arm at the last second, and he was sure that if it wasn't socially inappropriate, Josh would have hit him over the head. Or Ainsley. He paid no attention to the man who was mumbling some words that were probably very, very important. He just couldn't seem to tear his eyes from the woman who stood next to him.

And at the end, when he was granted permission to kiss the newly commissioned Mrs. Seaborn, he could have exploded from his nervous tension. He chose to lean in and kiss her thoroughly and deeply. After he had pulled away, a faint tinge of pink lingered on Ainsley's cheeks.

They rushed out of the cathedral to greet the newly changed leaves of autumn, and to feel the cool air brush against them. Rice was flung at them, as was the custom, and Sam laughed.

At the reception, Ainsley and Sam shared a sweet dance. They danced, her head nestled against his shoulder. She tipped her head up the slightest degree and whispered in his ear. "Doesn't this just remind you of very classic Hollywood?" He chuckled softly, with hints of things to come, and it sent shivers down her spine. He kissed the soft flesh of her neck tenderly, and she emitted a soft sigh.

He leaned his mouth down to her ear, and discreetly planted a light kiss on the shell of her ear. "I know this is supposed to be all about us and everything, but what say we escape to a hallway or storage closet of some kind?" She giggled softly, and kissed him gently.

"I love you, Sam." He smiled.

"Good to know." He paused. "Does that mean you'll help me think up plots for the Pilgrim action-adventure series?" She sighed. "You know, I'm thinking of expanding to the Puritans."

Ainsley crinkled her nose. "You know, if I talk to Toby, I'm sure he has a remedy for this."

Sam nodded. "It's called abusing me." She hit his head playfully. "Hey! What was that for?"

"You said he abused you."

"Well, I meant verbally!"

"You should have specified."

"Hey, I could sue you."

She stuck her tongue out at him, with an air of impishness. "I'm White House counsel, buddy. Don't even try anything. You so much as reach for a form, I'll know about it." He kissed her. She sighed again. Her entire body was atingle, from her head down to her toes. She was quite positive that if her hair strands had nerve endings, she'd positively be in nirvana. "When are we moving in all of our stuff?" He shrugged. "It's a big house."

She smirked. "I didn't realize." And suddenly, they were two lovesick fools again, dancing and kissing, and enjoying each other's company. They almost forgot about the presence of the others.

After the reception, they decided to go visit the White House. Sam was allowed entrance to the Residence, and he felt almost as if he was intruding. He sat down at the desk, and admired its shininess. Ainsley fished around for a piece of paper, before setting a medium scrap before him on the desk. "Sign it," she whispered. It felt sacrilegious to be standing in there with white tulle. He found a pen, and quickly scrawled his name.

"That feels…official."

She crinkled her nose. "What? The pen or the signing?"

There was a pregnant pause. "Both, I guess." She laughed again, and headed to the bathroom to change. Ainsley didn't remember another time when she had laughed so much. She wasn't used to so much happiness. She quickly changed. Well, as quickly as she could manage with a dress the size of North Dakota. Gazing at her hair, she sighed. Taking it apart would take forever. Almost begrudgingly, she raised her arm and began gently plucking the bobby pins from her stiff hair. She changed into a rose colored negligee, a gift from her bridesmaids, and slipped out of the bathroom.

Sam was standing by the main window in the Residence, and he was staring out at the city. The lights of the metropolis joined with the twinkling stars, and he was utterly amazed by it. He felt a light touch on his shoulder, and he turned around, to face her, scantily clad in a negligee, with her hair lying limply against her shoulders. Even though she might have felt insecure about herself, he found she was absolutely amazing, and between the window and her, he was astounded that someone would allow so much beauty in his life. And with a light whisper, she led him into the rest of his life.