A/N: I said "Chaos" was the end and I mean it. No more stories. But… this is not a story. It's not even real chapters, more a collection of vignettes. I really intended to the end to be THE END—but Sandy kept tapping my shoulder: "Did I tell you about…?" and bugging me with little scenes that kept popping up and it seemed rude not to share them. So call this a post-script to a letter, if you will… (The titles are still stolen from Linda's button collection. For any other comments, see the prior stories.) Hopefully the chapters will post in chronological order—but, with Sandy, you never know when she'll bring up an "oh, my god, listen to this" snippet.

If you haven't read "Chaos" you will probably be a little lost. Won't hurt to read "TGIF," "OHIM and "Life," too, if you have the time.

Disclaimer: All NCIS characters are the property of Bellisarius Productions, Paramount, CBS and the appropriate copyright holders within those companies. All other characters for this story (barring real persons mentioned in passing) are my original creation and property.

Rating: T (for the occasional cuss word, most likely)

My Life Would Run Much More Smoothly If I Had A Copy Of The Script

We Have Engaged The Borg. Wedding 4PM Sunday, Reception 6PM.

December 8. 2:00 p.m.

It took some wrangling, a little arguing ("September is blech, October has Halloween, November has Thanksgiving." "Well, December has Christmas, plus it snows in the winter—if you haven't noticed." "Okay—next year? Spring?" "And have Mother think either or both of us have gotten cold feet?" "I still say we should run away. Vegas? Fran wouldn't have to fly back out, she could meet us there—" "And face the wrath of our friends and family? If we run away to Vegas, we'd better stay in Vegas."), a little shuffling (The Episcopal church Ducky wandered into four or five times a year had a minister willing to perform the ceremony—but they already had a morning wedding and an evening wedding booked in. If we were willing (and able) to find another venue, Father Parker would happily meet us there. The backyard started looking more and more appealing.) and one major snit-fit ("Just choose whatever you want, whomever you want, wherever you want, tell me when and where and I'll show up—I don't care! Just, please, for my sake, choose something. Anything!" (Sad to say that was yours truly snarking at Ducky—like I had to spell that out?))—but we finally had a date and time that wasn't written in Jell-o. Besides—while we proved with Charlie's party we can both plan fast, pulling off a wedding would take a little more finesse than a poker and pizza party. We needed a little time.

But… where would we hold the ceremony? It would be too cold for an outdoor wedding (I didn't want to turn my wedding gown into a parka), and all of the hotels were booked solid.

That's what I thought.

Ducky placed a call or two to the Millennia Hotel—to Mrs. Islington, the general manager, in particular. When Alyce Carson shot Fran it created an unfortunate incident as their PR department called it. The fact that Ducky was able to identify Alyce and have said incident wrapped up that same day saved them a huge amount of bad publicity. So when he asked if there was any accommodation they could make for a relatively small wedding she moved heaven and earth and a couple of room partitions to get us the needed room. And provided both the room and the reception as a thank you/wedding gift from the hotel. They probably figured they would have lost five times the revenue without his intervention. (He should solve attempted murders more often.)

The crowd was manageable. Yes, Ducky knows everyone on the planet—but you don't necessarily invite "everyone" you know when you get married. So we had family (very small for him, moderate for me), friends (smallish for me, amazingly moderate for him) and coworkers (about 50/50). The only out-of-towners were Fran and her fiancé, Cal… and Fran's parents. Yes, Mary was there. Quiet… but there. I think that was Ducky's favorite wedding gift. (He was in tears when we picked them all up at the airport. And I cried, too.)

We kept the number of attendants manageable, too. One best man (Gibbs), one matron of honor (my sister-in-law, Barb) and one flower girl (Charlie). Fantasea turned out some beautiful gowns—besides mine, I mean. Barb swore this was the first dress she wouldn't chuck into the back of the closet, Charlie was thrilled that her moms allowed her to wear high heels (tiny high heels—but heels nonetheless) with the dark blue and silver frock that literally left her speechless. And Mother—well, Mother looked awesome. A darker blue and more muted silver taffeta and lace sheath dress and bolero jacket—she was absolutely regal. And she looked so proud I thought she was going to burst.

With Ducky and Gibbs rather involved in the ceremony, the NCIS contingent stepped in to keep Mother where she belonged. Suzy, Ev and Lily were glued to her right, Abby and Ziva seated on the left. Right behind them were "the boys"—Agents DiNozzo and McGee, along with Jimmy Palmer—and the Director of NCIS herself, Jenny Shepard (who said nothing could keep her from our wedding—and had provided some interesting, mimosa-encouraged tales during the Abby-I-really-don't-need-this bridal shower the month before, tales I had yet to question Ducky about).

We managed to get through with no disasters. I didn't trip and fall (a recurring nightmare). Neither Ducky nor I dropped each other's ring and had to go scurrying (second most popular recurring nightmare). Nobody fainted, nobody threw up. Nothing worthy of America's Funniest Home Videos.

"Cassandra Eloise Talmadge, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To—"

"Yes, she does!"

I pressed my lips together to keep from giggling and Ducky just closed his eyes for a moment. Apparently Mother still didn't trust us not to screw things up.

"Donald Andrew Mallard—"

"Yes! He does!" She cut Fr. Parker off, even louder than before. There was a very tiny "shh" from one of her keepers. I guess I was premature about Funniest Videos…