Rating: PG
Pairing: Toby/Donna
Spoilers: I think we're well into AU at this point, but everything up to the end of season three to be safe
Feedback: Makes my day
Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.
Archive: At my site The Band Gazebo --Anywhere else please ask first.
Summary: When she was a little girl, she dreamed about her wedding…
Author's Note: This is the seventh part of the Tempting Fate series, co-authored between myself and Sunny, and I'm sorry for it taking so long, but real life has been kicking me around the place a little bit!

When she was a little girl, she dreamed about the kind of wedding she would have, the kind of man she would marry. The dress would be long and white, six-foot train stretching all the way down from the altar. She'd have a long veil, covering her face, a bouquet of white roses in her hands. Her sisters would be her bridesmaids, their dresses long and navy blue, but naturally, nowhere near as nice as hers would be. Her father would walk her up the aisle, kiss her cheek as they stood at the altar, and at the reception afterwards, he would make a speech about how proud he was of her. Her mother would watch from the front pew, smiling and dabbing her eyes at the same time. Her closest friends and families would be there too, watching her exchange her vows with the man she loved.

Those were the constant features of her dream wedding. The bridegroom now, that was another matter; his face morphing into whatever celebrity or classmate she had a crush on at the time. For a long time, it was the face of a doctor, for an equally long time it had been a certain dimpled colleague who promised to love, honour and cherish her.

Lately, it had changed again.

Still, while her groom's features might have changed, the basic traits she was looking for in a husband never did. She wanted someone who she could talk to, someone who would listen to her. Someone who would make her laugh, who would hold her when she cried. Someone who was loyal, caring, compassionate. Someone who would be there for her no matter what, someone who thought that she hung the moon

She'd dreamed about her wedding a thousand times.

She'd planned for her wedding a thousand times.

It had never been like this.

>*<*>*<

She supposed that it shouldn’t surprise her; after all, she and Toby had never had what you'd call a conventional relationship. They got together more or less by accident, a chance meeting at a bar when they were both in a bad place leading to so much more than that. He'd bought her a drink and a single yellow rose, he'd walked her to her car and kissed her on the cheek, and the next day, he'd started buying out the surrounding flower shops on a daily basis. For their first date, with a little help from Sam, he'd brought her to see Miss Saigon, had taken her out for dinner and dancing, and he'd acted like a perfect gentleman.

She thought that she might have fallen in love with him that very night.

She just wished that everyone was as happy for her as she was for herself, but she knew they weren't. While the rest of the West Wing acted like they didn't have a problem with the relationship, and she knew that their true friends genuinely didn't, she was far from blind. She'd seen the stares, the second looks and double takes. She'd heard the whispers, knew that people were talking, both from what she'd overheard and from what she'd managed to pry out of Margaret. It was the same with people she barely knew, with strangers. She and Toby would walk into a room and someone would always be looking, and she knew what they'd be thinking, knew that they were wondering what the two of them were doing together.

She knew that some people thought of her as a ditzy blonde, who got her job by sleeping with Josh, who was keeping it by sleeping with Toby. And she was just as sure that some people thought that Toby was only after one thing, and that killed her, because while she didn't really care what people thought of her, she couldn't stand that people would think that about him.

She also knew though, that the naysayers, the people who were against her relationship, didn't matter a damn in the long run. She loved Toby and he loved her, and that was all that mattered.

She'd known that since the convention in July, when he'd followed her onto the convention floor, slipping off the wedding ring that he'd worn ever since she'd known him, handing it to her. With that simple action, and some eloquently chosen words, he'd told her that it didn't matter what people thought, that they were in it for the long haul, that they were going to be ok, and for the first time, she'd let herself believe it.

She'd known it during that long election campaign, when they'd been trekking through the wilds of America with Josh, when they were attending Rock the Vote rallies together and she was trying to tell him who the people who were playing music actually were.

She knew it on Election Night when they stole a quiet moment together after the results came in but before the President's victory speech.

She'd known it that Christmas when he'd introduced her to his father, when Jules had taken her in his arms and hugged her, treating her as if he'd known her forever. Toby had been touchy about his father being there all day, and she'd tried to talk him around with no success. It had taken Josh to break through his reserve, because he'd told her what he'd said to Toby, as well he might considering that it was at her instigation that he'd gone to talk to Toby in the first place. She'd taken him to task for getting involved in Ziegler family politics, he'd trumped that by saying that she'd been the one complaining about their fragmented families. He was only trying to help he'd said, and she hadn't had the heart to argue once she'd seen the sincerity in his eyes. Things had all worked out for the best though, and the look on Toby's face, the smile that he was trying to keep hidden, the light dancing in his eyes when he saw her and his father together, that made it all worth it.

But she'd really known it that day when she was on her way to the hospital with Josh, barely able to breathe with the terror that something had happened to Toby. She found out later that contrary to Josh's dramatics, it wasn't something life-threatening, only a broken hand, although, in the weeks of recuperation, when Toby couldn't work and was being more than a little testy about it, his life had indeed occasionally been threatened, by her and whoever he got on the wrong side of. Still, she hadn't known that at the time, had only known that Toby was hurt somehow, and as Josh had driven her through the streets of Washington at breakneck speed, she couldn't help but think of a different night, when she'd driven herself to GW, without stopping for red lights.

That had been bad, but this was so much worse, and that was when she'd really truly known that if anything had happened to Toby that she didn't know how she'd go on.

That had been when she knew that she had to marry him, and, fed up of waiting for him to ask her, she, as a liberated woman of the new millennium, had taken it upon herself to ask him. She'd been more nervous about doing that than she ever had been in her life, but it had all been worth it when he'd said yes.

They hadn't told anyone straight away, Toby telling her that he wanted to get her a ring first, and she'd waited for him to present her with one, or to bring her shopping so that they could choose one together. She'd thought that the latter was more likely, since they were both off work, him to recuperate, her to take care of him, and when he hadn't suggested it, she'd just thought that he was tired, that he wasn't feeling up to a shopping expedition, and while she'd been disappointed, she'd tried to understand.

She'd gone back to work that Monday, leaving him at home, and she'd fended enquiries as to his welfare all day. It had been one of the longest days she could ever remember in the West Wing, because she was dying to tell someone her news, but she knew she had to wait until Toby was there. She'd left at seven o'clock, calling him to tell him that she was on her way, and when she got home, there'd been a surprise waiting for her.

She'd expected to find him on the couch, cursing at one of the news channels. When she'd walked in there though, there was no Toby to be seen. What she did see on the coffee table though, was a single yellow rose, the kind that Toby had brought her the night that all this started for them. This one was different though; it had a white ribbon around it, tied in a bow, and in the centre of that bow, there was a diamond ring.

She'd picked it up, tears in her eyes, and she jumped and turned when she heard his voice behind her.

"It was my mother's engagement ring," he'd said. "I called my dad, got him to Fed-Ex it down."

He'd looked distinctly blurry through the tears in her eyes, and her voice was more than a little choked as she asked him, "How did you tie the bow?"

He'd chuckled, as if surprised that that was the first thing that she thought of, holding up his bandaged hand. "CJ came over at lunch," he'd admitted, adding with a shrug, "I kinda had to tell her. I hope you don't mind."

She'd laughed, both in amazement that he thought she'd be upset about anything that could lead to a surprise like that, and that CJ hadn't said a single thing to her about it. Wiping her eyes with one hand, she'd returned her gaze to the ring, the diamond solitaire winking at her in the dim light, and she'd been lost for words all over again. "It's beautiful," she'd finally managed, and by that time, he was standing in front of her, his fingers finding the end of the ribbon, his good hand holding the ring, his bandaged one pulling and undoing the knot with one good tug.

"It's metal and stone," he'd told her, in that low tone that she loved so much, the one that sent shivers up and down her spine. He held the ring between them, reaching down to take her left hand. "The true beauty," he told her, slipping the ring on her finger, "Comes from the wearer." The ring had fit on her finger like it was meant to be there, as if it had always been hers, and he'd brought her hand to his lips, first the ring, then her skin, never taking his eyes from hers. "Will you marry me?" he'd whispered, and those words had caused a single tear to make its way down her cheek. Even though she'd already asked him the question, even thought she'd already considered them engaged, this had made it more real somehow.

"Yes," she'd told him, throwing her arms around his neck and holding him tightly, before kissing him properly, dragging him towards the bedroom.

Later that night, just before she dropped off to sleep in his arms, she remembered back when she was a little girl, back when she used to dream about her handsome prince coming to her, getting down on one knee, proposing to her with the most beautiful speech, giving her the largest ring that he could find.

This was nothing like she'd dreamed it would be, but she was ok with that.

>*<*>*<

Looking back on it, she knows that it was perfectly clear that what she'd dreamed about was the actual wedding ceremony itself. She'd never dreamed about the organising that went into it, the planning and the details. And in the initial euphoria over announcing their engagement, the congratulations from their friends and co-workers, the reaction, positive and negative from the press and from others, she hadn't even given the wedding itself a thought at first. When she did realise that plans had to be made, it wasn't something that caused her much thought either; after all, she'd spent five years organising Josh Lyman. She'd been through election and re-election campaigns, she'd helped with balls and state dinners and two inaugurations.

She'd figured that after that, organising the wedding would be a snap

Then she'd tried to organise the wedding.

First of all came the trauma of picking a date. Again, not something that she would have thought would be a problem. Except that she'd always dreamed of marrying in summer, probably after having experienced too many Wisconsin winters. Since they'd got engaged in February, ideally, she would have wanted to marry the following summer, giving them over a year to plan things. A wedding in July or August sounded just right to her, September at the latest.

Which would have been fine, giving them a leisurely year and a half to plan things.

Except that, as Toby and Josh pointed out to her, a wedding at that time would occur right in the middle of midterm elections, when the White House would be embroiled in doing their damnedest to take back the house; not that they had much chance of it, they readily admitted, but still, they had to try. Remembering well how things got in the White House anywhere near an election, she wasn't eager to try to hold her wedding at the same time, so she agreed that those months were out. But since a summer wedding was all she'd dreamed of, and since she didn't want to wait two years to become Mrs Toby Ziegler, that meant that the wedding was going to be in August of this year.

Which gave her five months to plan everything.

Once she knew that, she did what she always did in times of crisis; broke out the index cards, enlisted Margaret, font of all knowledge, and got busy.

She'd been to many weddings over the course of her life, big and small, yet she'd never had a clue as to how much effort went into organising one until she tried to do it herself. They had to find a place to be married, which wouldn't have been so hard were it not for the fact that her parents, she knew for a fact, would have heart attacks were she to get married anywhere except a church. This was a problem when you took into account the fact that Toby's father, and Toby himself, were both observant Jews, and while Donna knew that if push came to shove, Toby would put his own objections aside for her sake, she really didn't want to make him do that. After all, it was his wedding too. They finally decided on a neutral venue, as it were, with a non-denominational service, and thanks in no small part to Margaret's expertise, managed to find a small hotel in Maryland, one with a large garden and a small gazebo where they could say their vows. The guests, it was decided, would be able to stay at the hotel, while the newlyweds would be able to go to a different location before they disappeared for their honeymoon.

It was a compromise that took them the best part of a month to sort out, but it still wasn't good enough for Donna's mother.

She hadn't been best pleased when Donna called her up in the first place, telling her that she and Toby were engaged. Her mother had repeated her objections, longer and louder than before, telling Donna that she was making a mistake, that she'd live to regret her choice. Donna had told her firmly that it was her choice to make, and she'd made it, and that she'd call her with details of the wedding. When she had, her mother's reaction was outrage - why shouldn't Donna get married in church, when it had been good enough for her mother, for her sisters? Not only that, but a wedding outdoors was obscene, an abomination, and considering who she was marrying, it was all an ill-starred beginning. She'd even tried to get Donna to postpone the wedding, telling her that it was too soon, even invoking the adage, "Marry in haste, repent at leisure." Donna had, at that point, lost her temper, telling her mother that those were the arrangements and that she could come if she wanted to.

Her mother had told her that she'd think about it.

Donna had hung up the phone, thrown herself down on her bed and cried for a good two hours.

Toby had tried his best to comfort her, but she was so over-wrought between the planning and her mother that she didn't even want anyone to touch her, so she'd resisted his attempts to gather her into his arms, leaving him to sit on the edge of the bed, his hand running in tentative circles over her back. She could feel the worried gaze that he was giving her, but she couldn't stop crying, any more than she could turn around and talk to him about it.

The next morning, she still wouldn't talk about it, though she was better for a night's sleep, though she wouldn't have characterised it as a good night's sleep. Still though, she was able to smile brightly at Toby as they breakfasted, was able to go into the West Wing and face Josh, face everyone as she did her work and planned her wedding at the same time.

After all, there was so much to do.

She had bridesmaids to arrange, and the first people she thought of were her sisters. Who, apparently, harboured the same doubts as her mother, and told her so, in far stronger language. Both of them refused to attend the wedding, which was good for another round of tears into her pillow. Her next choice was Margaret, who herself burst into tears at the offer, and told her that she'd be delighted to. Best man was a simpler choice, that honour going to Sam, in appreciation, Toby had explained with a smile on his face, for the tickets to Miss Saigon that Sam had given him for their first official date.

Then there were the dresses and suits. The colour scheme. The invitations. The flowers. The menu. The order of the service. The printing of the booklets. The arrangements for their honeymoon, which Toby had told her to leave to him. But while all these took time and effort and considerable difficulty, it was nothing compared to the guest list. After all, the hotel had a limited capacity, so not everyone could be invited, certainly not everyone they had on their first list. And it only got worse once CJ Josh and Sam got involved in it, reminding Toby of who it might be a good idea that he invited, each of them coming up to either him or Donna two or three times a day with another name to add to a list that was already more than full. All this though, was nothing to the fact that if the President were to attend, as both of them certainly hoped he would, and as he swore he would, the Secret Service had to be involved, and the list of problems they had with the wedding site was legion. To say nothing of the fact that the hotel weren't sure that they would be able to accommodate all of the Secret Service restrictions, and the manager even suggested to Donna that they have the wedding elsewhere.

She'd had that phone conversation at lunch time one day, and she'd hardly been able to believe what she was hearing. She'd managed to keep a tight hold of her emotions all day, though Josh had asked her if anything was bothering her. She'd simply told him that she didn't want to talk about it, but that she was clocking off at six that night, and if he had a problem with it, her resignation would be on his desk within the hour. He'd looked shocked at first, waiting for the punch line, but when he'd seen that she was nowhere near joking, he simply nodded and told her that that would be fine.

She hadn't stopped by Toby's office on the way home, as she normally did, leaving without a word and heading straight for the bedroom, throwing herself face down on the bed. She'd cried over plans for the wedding on more than a few occasions over the last few weeks, but this was the worst that she could recall, as she sobbed like she hadn't sobbed in a very long time.

She didn't know how long she was there when she heard him calling her name, and she couldn't lift her head from the pillow, couldn't get enough breath to call his name. She heard the bedroom door open, heard his shocked intake of breath, heard him coming across the hardwood floor towards the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight as he sat down beside her, his hand once more making circles against her back. "Donna…" he whispered, and she could hear the pain in his voice. It only made her cry harder. He sighed then, and moved his hands, trying to pull her up into his arms.

"Don't…" she protested weakly, fighting him, but she was tired, so tired, and it felt so good to be in his arms as he held her tightly, whispering endearments into her hair, his hands moving up and down her back.

When she'd calmed slightly, he pushed her away a little, so that he could look down at her, see her face. "Donna, this isn't good for you," he said, and she sucked in a shuddering breath.

"I'm ok," she told him, though she knew that she wasn't, and she knew he knew it too. "It's just…the wedding, and the Secret Service, and the hotel doesn't know if they can handle it, and it's all just so overwhelming…"

"Donna…" he sighed as her explanation stumbled to a halt. "How many times am I going to find you like this?"

"It's only for a little while," she protested. "Until we get things organised and we know what we're doing. It's going to be fine Toby. I promise."

"You promise." He didn't sound like he believed her, and she had to admit that she wouldn't have believed her either.

But she still tried to sell it, still tried to make him believe. "I promise."

The next day he'd come home with plane tickets to Telluride, reservations made for the next weekend, and he'd told her that they were going to have one weekend without any wedding talk, any plans. It was just going to be the two of them, enjoying one another's company, without any of the attendant madness that had become a daily part of their lives.

>*<*>*<

They'd flown out of D.C. on a Friday night, and while she'd felt vaguely guilty that she was taking time out from her wedding preparations, the second that that plane had taken off, she'd felt herself growing more and more relaxed, as if she was leaving all her worries behind her on the ground. Toby's arm was around her, her head was resting on his shoulder, and she didn't realise that she was falling asleep until he woke her up after they'd already landed in Denver. She'd smiled sheepishly, sure that he was going to tease her, but he'd just squeezed her hand, letting her take her time about getting up, making their way off the plane. He didn't rush her, and when they found their rental car, he'd eschewed his usual radio choice, NPR, in favour of some station playing soft classical music, and once again, she'd relaxed in her seat, was asleep before they'd even pulled out of the airport.

He'd all but had to carry her from the car to the hotel, and while she'd had plans for their first night there, plans involving champagne and strawberries and a negligée that cost rather more than she should have paid for it, she was too tired to do anything other than allow him to aid her in taking off her clothes, and falling into bed. She thinks that she was asleep even before her head hit the pillow, and she knows that she's got no recollection of him slipping in beside her.

She does remember waking up in his arms; in fact, being woken up by his finger tracing a lazy path up and down her arm, his lips taking a similar path down her neck once she shifted slightly, letting him know that she was awake. From there, there was only one inevitable result, but she was surprised later, as she lay sated and happy against his chest, when she realised that that had been the first time in weeks that they'd made love, and that this was certainly the most relaxed that she'd been since they'd begun planning the wedding.

He'd had to bully her into taking this vacation, but she was so glad that he did.

They'd spent a lazy Saturday morning in bed, not rising until the early afternoon, even then, taking their time about getting ready. They hadn't exerted themselves, had just walked around the town, one of the first times in her life that Donna could recall that she hadn't planned a schedule meticulously, made a list of a dozen different things that she wanted to do and see. There was no plan, just her and Toby, and it was enough.

Or so she thought.

She didn't think that anything was amiss when Toby stopped walking suddenly, thought that perhaps he was tired, or that he wanted to point something out to her. But something didn't sit quite right with her, something about the way his eyes were dancing, the way that his lips twitched as he said, "Let's go in here."

She was halfway into the building before she realised that it was the St. Miguel County Courthouse.

And she was at the door marked "County Clerk's Office" before she recovered her voice enough to ask, "Toby, what are we doing here?"

He turned to her, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. She was expecting an explanation, but instead got a request. "Marry me."

She laughed, not understanding, wondering if the lower air pressure had got to him somehow. "Toby, we've done this remember?" she asked him, waving her left hand in front of his face. His mother's ring glinted as she moved it, and he caught her hand in mid-air, holding it in his, squeezing the fingers gently.

"I mean now Donna," he told her calmly, his voice level, but firm. "Right here, today, or tomorrow, as soon as we can."

She frowned, the idea coming straight out of left field. "But Toby…we can't…"

"Why not?" His tone almost dared her to find fault with this, to back out of it.

"Because…we've been planning the wedding for the summer…"

"And you've been running yourself ragged trying to please everyone… trying to make everyone else happy. You've lost weight, you're tired and pale… I want to marry you Donna, but I don't want you miserable." He cleared his throat, looked down at his feet. "I hate seeing you like that," he admitted.

"Toby…" she whispered.

"We don't need a big wedding, all the trimmings," he told her, looking into her eyes, taking a step closer to him. "All we need is you and me… that's enough."

She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that it could be that easy, but she'd worked in politics for too long to believe it. "But there must be a gazillion rules…paperwork…" she protested, and he shook his head, lips twitching again.

"Proof of age and identity, our parents' addresses, that's all. No blood test, no waiting period. We can get a marriage license right now…if that's what you want."

Her eyes flitted over his face, studying him for signs that he was joking, for any signs of doubt. Finding none, she realised something. "You planned this," she accused. "The moment you booked this trip, this is what you were planning." She expected him to deny it, but he didn't.

"Yes," he said simply, and she laughed with shock at the sheer nonchalance of him. "Donna, understand something. I don't care if you say no. If you can look me right in the eye and tell me that you want to go back to D.C and plan the big wedding you've been killing yourself over the last few weeks, then that's fine, and I'll do all I can to help you. But I just want to marry you Donna. I don't care about all the other stuff." He waved a hand dismissively, but throughout their entire conversation, he'd never let go of her left hand. "I just care about you."

And standing there, in that quiet corridor of that quiet courthouse, she'd made her decision.

>*<*>*<

It's Sunday night now, and she's lying in bed, not sleeping, wishing that she didn't have to get up in the morning. They have an early flight back to D.C, meaning that they'll have to be out of here even earlier, and for once in her life, she's not looking forward to getting back into work.

She wants to stay here forever, in this bed with this man, in this town, where they spent the latter part of Saturday afternoon shopping for her wedding gown, ending up choosing a simple, off-white linen dress, finding a matching wrap for around her shoulders. Saturday night found them at a small restaurant, enjoying a good bottle of wine and a nice meal, before going back to the hotel for an early night.

They were married on Sunday afternoon, just the two of them, a Justice of the Peace, and a couple of witnesses who they'd literally drafted in off the street, who were furnished with a disposable camera that Donna had bought the day before, wanting to have some photographic evidence of the day. Donna's eyes had brimmed with tears as she'd said her vows, and Toby's voice had been so low that she'd actually had to strain to hear him, while the look in his eyes told her all that she needed to her. They'd gone back to the hotel afterwards, taking their time over dinner, and when the band in the corner had begun to play, Toby had excused himself, going over to them. She'd watched him with curious eyes, and when he'd come back and sat down beside her, she'd asked him what he'd done. He hadn't told her, but when the band struck up their next song, he'd stood, extending his hand to her, wordlessly asking her to dance with him. They were on the dancefloor, moving silently to the music, lost in their own little world, when she finally managed to place the melody, realised that they were playing "The Last Night of the World" from Miss Saigon.

She lost count of how long they danced for, doesn't even remember any of the other songs, just remembers Toby's arms around her, and the sensation that her feet weren't even touching the ground.

She hasn't stopped smiling yet.

And nor has he.

He's still smiling now, and he opens one eye and looks down at her, opening both eyes when he sees that she's looking up at him. "Don't you ever sleep?" he wonders, and she giggles lightly, propping herself up on one arm, the better to look down at him.

"Nope," she says teasingly, shaking her head so that the ends of her hair trail along his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He chuckles at that, his left hand tracing a path down her back, the smooth metal on his ring finger feeling strange against her skin. She's not used to the ring being there yet, and she can't wait to get used to the sensation. She reaches up to stroke his cheek, loving the sight of his mother's ring, hers now, joined by the new band of gold there, and she presses her lips to his. "You got a problem with that?" she murmurs as her lips trail along his cheek, moving down to his neck, stopping abruptly when his arms tighten on her, and she squeaks as he flips her over so that he's on top.

"Not in the least," he tells her, as he proceeds to show her just how much he doesn't mind.

>*<*>*<

When she was a little girl, she dreamed about her wedding, and she dreamed about her husband. About the fairytale day and the handsome prince, and the well wishes of everyone she knew as they gathered around her.

That had been her dream.

The reality was nothing like that.

It was better.