Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sooo, okay, I really really struggled with this chapter. Forgive me if it isn't perfect. Also, fair warning, I've never been to France and know very, very little about it. So if you are from France or have been to France and notice very blatant problems with my descriptions, I'm sorry... it's all guesswork. Willing suspense of disbelief, please. :)

Hope you guys enjoy. Also, if you would like a picture of the place, I'll edit this later today to include a link. Right now I need to speed back to work because I'm going to be late, but I wanted to post this before I left. :)

Chapter Ninety Eight:

We dressed up that night, got a restaurant recommendation from the man behind the front desk of our hotel, and had a romantic evening out. With Ayla, of course. We were leaving most of the sight-seeing for after the wedding, but after a truly enchanting night of good food and better wine, we couldn't resist catching a taxi to see the Eiffel Tower all lit up against the dark of the night sky, surrounded by lights. We stopped far enough away to appreciate the entirety of the height and beauty, slipping onto a bench, and just looked up at it in awe.

Many, many thoughts were running through my head… I could have told Sara the exact height and weight of the structure, the story behind its construction… but it felt altogether more satisfying to sit in the hushed awe of the moment, my arms around my girls, and bask in the moment.

Once back at the hotel, we laid Ayla down and stepped out onto the balcony, wrapping our arms around each other, taking in the sights and the lights and the feel of the night. We stayed outside for a long time, talking softly at times and at others simply standing in silence, until we felt cold and tired and returned to the bed. I had thought we might make love—even though the night before had been exciting and wild and frenzied, I wanted the night before our wedding night to be gentle and slow and sensual… but the thought of going to bed brought up the thought of waking up—and our wedding day. I was… nervous.

Not nervous like I was having second thoughts—Sara seemed to be the single entity in my life that I was able to approach with absolute certainty. I had always wanted to be a biologist, but I wasn't always certain that it would be a lucrative career move to be an entomologist… I had fallen in to being a coroner, and had hesitated to make the leap to CSI. Any other woman I had ever pursued had been able much contemplation… and never had it meant as much to me as Sara did. It seemed like, with her, everything else stopped and I could clearly see that nothing else mattered quite as much…

But Sara didn't seem remotely nervous or concerned… I mean, I know that we'd been planning this for years and that she'd been married before and it wasn't that I wanted her to have cold feet… but wasn't it normal to be a little anxious? Wasn't it normal to not be able to fall asleep the minute you ascertain that there would be no nocturnal adventures? I mean, really… we'd been in bed, what, five minutes? She was already snoring like it'd been hours.

Okay, I'll be fair—it was a quiet, cute snore, not something loud and intolerable… but still, how could she simply fall asleep when tomorrow—tomorrow!—we were getting married!

Needless to say, I finally drifted off around two in the morning and didn't sleep well—I woke up before Sara, feeling like I'd hardly slept at all, and hurried into the shower in an attempt to wake myself up and look a little… calmer. After everything Sara and I had been through in the last month or so, the very last thing she needed was to know that I was feeling a little… anxious. I mean, she'd handled my outburst the previous day fairly well, but it was minor and I apologized right away.

…I felt so afraid that the minute she realized that our life would obviously not be perfect… not the fantasy she'd dreamed of when she was trapped in a life with Jace… that we would fight and have ups and downs and disagreements… that she would decide it wasn't worth it. That she would realize that this wasn't what she'd imagined or believed she'd signed up for and putting up with me really wasn't worth the love I was offering in exchange.

And how could I even blame her for that? It wasn't.

But I tried to quash those feelings down as best I could under the hot spray. She was marrying me, of her own free will, even after I'd allowed my insecurities to take hold and keep me from listening to her messages or taking her calls… She obviously knew the man that I was, and I certainly hadn't forced her into anything. …Had I?

I mean, sure, it was rather close to Jace's death and we'd been planning marriage since before his funeral, but we'd also been planning it since Costa Rica. Surely she hadn't felt pressured or… uncertain, right? Sara was a strong woman, and even the traumatic events of late couldn't make her agree to a marriage she didn't want… right?

She'd married Jace when she said she wanted me.

Needless to say, the shower did very little to help my nerves. Instead I made coffee in the little coffee maker provided and drank deeply, still trying to force my hands to still. When Sara awoke, I needed to have everything together… this wasn't just our wedding day, but I was surprising her with the location. …Oh shit, I shouldn't have even thought about that because now I was nervous and upset about that. I mean, really, wouldn't she just think I was silly? Drawing connections where there were none?

"Jesus Christ." I muttered under my breath, turning to go get dressed and to try to collect myself before my girls woke up, but when I turned I ran right into Sara, spilling my thankfully luke-warm coffee down the front of the t-shirt she'd slept in. She jumped and yelped at the cold and I was already apologizing profusely. "Oh, God, Sara, I didn't see you there… I'm so sorry, honey. I didn't mean… I didn't see… I—"

She kissed me, long, slow, and deep, and when we slid apart, I was gasping for breath and she was smiling sweetly. "…You look nervous, Gil."

I choked out a laugh. "No, I… you surprised me."

"I know… I've been watching you for ten minutes while you inspected your coffee and tapped your fingers… something on your mind?"

"No." I said, too quickly, upset that I hadn't realized she'd been awake while I stressed and muttered to myself. She grinned. Her hands moving to my chest and slowly sliding lower.

"…No? Because, you know… I think I might need some help getting cleaned up from this coffee mess. And, well… if you had something on your mind, I could think of a few ways to relax you…" Her hands brushed over me and I gasped—both at the sensation and the speed at which my body was responding to her husky voice, coming low and seductive.

"…Ayla." I protested, and she leaned it, flicking her tongue against my lower lip, lightening-quick.

"We'll have to hurry then…"

And then we were stumbling back into the bathroom, into the shower, the boxers I'd thrown on being dragged down my legs as her coffee-stained pajamas went flying, the water turning on—much too cold at first but heating quickly as our bodies collide and intertwined. And, by the time we stepped out again, I had to admit I was feeling much calmer and more reassured…

Sara had kissed me, loved me, moaned when I touched her and looked absolutely wild when she touched me… and the entire time we were joined, she'd been gasping out her absolute love and devotion to me… how much she wanted to marry me and be able to call me hers and herself mine. She dragged her nails up my back and promised that this was everything she'd ever dreamed of and whimpered into my neck before declaring that this would be one of the happiest days of our lives… and when she let out a swooning wail and clamped around me, not only sending me over but in all likelihood waking Ayla in the process, her first words after coming back to herself were just how good I made her feel. Everywhere, she had said, clutching our clasped hands over her heart.

And things went more smoothly after that. Ayla was awake when we climbed out and I took her, letting Sara get herself ready, because I had warned her that although she would have a place to change, I wasn't sure how much other primping she could do. I dressed Ayla in comfy clothes and double-checked that we had all of her dress-up things, and even attempted to put her hair in pigtails… before deciding I would leave the task to Sara. I packed my suit, shirt, and tie, double checking all the details, noticing strangely that some of Sara's clothes and things had been moved to my suitcase.

I shrugged it off, dressing in jeans and telling Sara I was going to head downstairs and talk to the front desk about the rental car I'd arranged for today—she called out that that was fine and I left Ayla in her pack and play, heading down. …I had thought about travelling by train, but knowing that it was a long trip and that Ayla would likely need a nap, I thought a car trip made more sense… assuming I could navigate from here to there. …I was ambitious. Though, I still thought we should leave early, just in case.

I double-checked on the car, and the car seat that was to be provided with it, making sure it was correctly installed, and put Ayla's things in the backseat, hanging my suit in the back window to keep it from getting wrinkled. When I got back up to the room, Ayla's hair was done, but Sara still wasn't dressed.

"Honey…? We've got to get moving pretty quick here…"

"Do we have time for breakfast?"

I looked at my watch—I had planned for us to eat, yes, but I hadn't expected Sara to take so long. "If we hurry."

"Just leave the keys with me and take Ayla to the restaurant. Order for me and I'll be there by the time food arrives…"

I frowned a little, but a glance at the clock told me this was probably a good idea. So I left the keys and a description of the car with Sara, scooped up Ayla, and headed to the restaurant. True to her words, fifteen minutes later Sara arrived with her curls pinned up on her head and her face a little flushed, like she'd been running around—probably trying to hurry. I greeted her with a smile and a kiss and breakfast arrived as soon as she had slid into her seat.

It was a long drive—the directions I'd secured, in both English and French, anticipating trouble with road signs, told me it would take around two hours to make the drive… We arrived in just under three. Sara had spent the entire trip trying to guess where we would be getting married and what I had planned and in small ways—ways I think she probably wasn't even aware of—letting me know how excited she was for the wedding and the marriage we were about to start on together. It was exceedingly reassuring, and I was mad at myself for allowing myself to doubt this morning. She loved me—she'd always loved me—and I should know that.

When we arrived in the small town of Allouville-Bellefosse, she looked around herself in confusion, taking in the old streets and the cute little buildings. "…Are we here?"

"We are." I smiled. She frowned, looking out the window, trying to ascertain exactly what I'd had in mind. Once again, a jolt of insecurity shot through me—maybe this wasn't what she wanted. Maybe my idea was silly and foolish. Maybe I should lie and tell her this wasn't right and simply take her to a random church…

Her slow, deep intake of breath told me that she'd finally caught sight of our destination, and the nerves attacked me again. Without really thinking about it, I found myself speaking—telling her about it—hoping to fill the silence and quash my insecurities and perhaps also convince her, in the process, to like it as much as I wanted her to. "It, uh… In… 1669, this tree—an oak tree—was already five hundred years old, and hollow from being struck by lightning. And this Abbot decided to build a chapel inside it… there's actually two chapels, and the second and the staircase were added later. But I thought… you know, that first kiss… I mean, I knew I was attracted to you and that… there was something between us. But when I kissed you against the oak tree on the Berkeley campus, Sara, I knew that you were the only one in the world I could ever feel like that… like this… about."

I swallowed shakily, noting that she still hadn't said a word, and felt words coming again, simply to hide my nervousness. "We… we named Ayla after it, you know, and I… I just thought… it seemed appropriate. If you don't like it, we don't have to get married here, but…"

Silence. I was too afraid to glance over and see her face. My hands were trembling. "It's one of the most famous trees in France and it's a site of pilgrimage in August for the Assumption of Mary. I… I know you're not very religious and… and I understand, you know, if you don't want another church wedding but—"

"Gil." She murmured softly. I stopped speaking, drawing in a shaking breath and finally coming to a stop near the tree. I glanced at her from the side of my eyes, but could not tell for sure what she was thinking or feeling. I grit my teeth, feeling impatient with myself, and turned to her.

"Sara?"

She turned to me too, and her eyes were full of tears. I felt a moment of panic. This had been all wrong, I shouldn't have tried to surprise her, I shouldn't have just picked the place, I shouldn't have even considered it. Hadn't she told me, years before, that she always pictured herself getting married on a beach? Why hadn't I opted for something I already knew she would like?

And then she was hugging me tightly and her mouth was pressed to my ear, her breath hot and moist as she half-whispered, "It's the most beautiful thing I think I've ever seen."

I exhaled in a huff, not realizing that I'd been holding my breath, feeling slightly lightheaded as she sniffled and continued.

"Gil… I didn't know such a place existed. It's like it was created just for us… You remember I told you I didn't really dream about my wedding when I was a little girl? …If I had known about this place, this is what I would have dreamed of…"

She squeezed me tighter, tears falling down her cheeks and landing on mine or slipping down to wet the shoulder of my shirt. "I can't believe they even do weddings at such a famous place…"

I grinned. "Well, it's a little small to hold a wedding like most people would have… but I thought, for us… I had to call in a few favors, but…"

"Favors?"

I shrugged. "I had a Professor from the Sorbonne attend one of my lectures about ten years back and we've kept in touch… He's been trying to convince me to do a guest lecture, so I said that I'd be in Paris if I could find a way to use this place to marry you. I got lucky—really lucky—it turns out he grew up in this area. His aunt grew up with the priest in this chapel…"

She sniffled again and pulled me against her tighter. "Oh Gil… I can't believe this. It's just so perfect… I love you. I love you more than anything—I would have married you in jeans in a run down church or by a justice of the peace in a junk yard… I would have married you anywhere, Gil, so long as I got to call you mine. …I just can't believe that you did this… for me. That we really get to have our wedding this way."

I struggled to fight back my own tears now, relief flooding through my system and making me emotional. "I love you too, Sara. I… I'm so happy you like it."

We held each other until Ayla woke a few minutes later, and then slipped out of the car. Sara said she was going to change Ayla's diaper in the backseat quickly, and so I nodded and went in search of the priest to tell him we were here and, within the half hour, were ready to be married.