Casey released himself from Ilsa's light grasp so he could open the door to the room, then turned to her and, in one smooth movement, caught his wife up in his arms and spun back around. She quickly latched her arms around his neck, and just before Casey stepped over the threshold, Ilsa looked past his shoulder at the sound of applause and some enthusiastic whooping.

A small group of hotel guests, seemingly more than a bit worse for alcohol, had come out of one of the rooms just in time to watch the newlyweds disappear into their suite, and they expressed their best wishes and encouragement quite loudly. A couple of the men even shouted out a few pointers for Casey's benefit, so by the time he had swiveled his backside around to push the door closed, Ilsa was laughing helplessly into his neck.

He smiled as he let her feet slide to the floor and kept his arms circled around her waist, gazing fondly into her sparkling eyes.

"Casey," she said, an amused smile turning up her mouth.

"Hmmm?" he inquired, his eyes locked on hers.

"I can't get out of my dress until you let go of me," she clarified. Reaching up, she ran the tips of her fingers very lightly from his temple, past his ear and along his jaw line and smiled with satisfaction as she watched him shiver with delight.

Casey lowered his head to her upturned face and contacted her lips with his, gently at first, then with more pressure as Ilsa relaxed into him and allowed him to support her weight when his arms tightened around her. After a few moments, he raised his head away from hers and looked at her again, his eyes heavily lidded now. Ilsa was pretty sure that if he hadn't still been holding her so securely she would have slipped to the floor in a warm heap.

When he was sure Ilsa could stand on her own again, Casey released her and turned her around so her back was facing him. He slowly unzipped her wedding dress then turned her again.

"Hurry back," was all he said before pointing her in the direction of the bathroom and giving her a gentle shove.

Quite some time later, lying in the large and comfortable bed in each other's arms, the couple had decided by mutual agreement to pause in their lovemaking for a bit of a rest. Casey reached up and tenderly brushed a strand of hair, wetted by perspiration, from Ilsa's eyes. They were both able to breathe a bit better now but not so well yet that they could speak.

Eyes roaming over her face as though he were trying to memorize it, Casey sighed and allowed a smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. Ilsa shifted around a bit so that her body was snugged up as close to his as she could get it. Her low, "Mmmmmmm," as she settled herself into the new position was the best she could manage as far as words went, but Casey didn't need words from her to know that she was satisfied. He could feel it in the way she relaxed completely into his embrace.

The groom, by this time, was feeling more than a little smug. He had performed his husbandly duties better than admirably, judging by Ilsa's reactions, and he was proud to be able to say he was married. Casey's assessment of marriage in the past, as it turned out, had been a defense mechanism. It was something he couldn't have so he pretended he didn't want it. Well, he wanted it, all right, and he wanted his wife. Just not for another half hour or so.

As these musings turned into random thoughts of the wedding itself, the events of the reception and a scattered checklist concerning their upcoming honeymoon trip, Casey, who thought Ilsa had fallen asleep, was surprised to feel her body suddenly stiffen in his arms and start to tremble. He instinctively tightened his embrace and began to soothe her.

"Shhh, shhh, honey, what's wrong?" he asked, worry clouding his brow.

After a few more convulsive sobs, Casey was finally able to get Ilsa to turn her face up to look at him, and when she spoke, it was in a barely audible whisper.

"Casey, my papa, when he appeared at the wedding today, is that what it was like for you when you thought I had died? And then came back?"

"Shhhh, Ilsa, that's all a long time ago now."

"Oh, Casey, I'm so sorry."

"You did what you had to do at the time, my love. It was your job, remember?"

Ilsa pulled back so she could look into Casey's eyes. Reaching a tentative hand up to caress his temple, she directed a look so full of sorrow at her husband that it caused a lump to form in his throat.

"My job," she began, her voice low. Sounding fierce and angry, she continued. "Our jobs. They're what have kept us apart for so long. And I can't even begin to tell you how I regret that now."

Casey pulled Ilsa to him briefly before replying. He once again smoothed the damp hair from her face as a small smile lit up his eyes.

"Remember what you told your father earlier, my lovely wife? How he should forget regrets of the past and concentrate on the future? Well, I think we should do the same. Because we don't have any more time to waste in regrets."

Ilsa's tears spilled over her eyelids as her smile matched her husband's. "You're right, Casey, no regrets," she said.

Anything else she might have been about to say was cut off when Casey began to kiss her again, and as his hands traveled tenderly along her skin, Ilsa was able to push aside her worries. Concentrating on what she was feeling now, both emotionally and physically, was taking up her whole world, and after a while, when their excitement reached a fever pitch, she knew that she had ultimately made the right choice, and she would be with this man until the end.

Casey and Ilsa, once again exhausted, held each other close as they both fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. Soon they would have to leave the hotel and board an NSA jet for two weeks at an undisclosed location. Once there, they would stay in an exclusive and luxurious hotel in a tropical climate, but until then, there was nobody else in the world, only the two of them.

But as they slept, the precise time it happened unknown to either of them, their daughter Ekaterina Moira Casey was experiencing the first moment of her being.