Chapter title inspired by "Come to Me" by Goo Goo Dolls: the perfect wedding song for Jim and Claire.
Jim stretched his legs along the black silk sheet and opened his eyes to golden rays of California sunshine streaming in through the wooden blinds. Much to his annoyance, he was already growing accustomed to lazy days, perfect weather, elaborate meals, and having a private playroom at his disposal. And gorgeous views made even more gorgeous by the woman in them.
He needed to get back to Gotham, back to work, and somehow tether himself back to reality. Gruber may be just fine and dandy with living a lavish, indulgent lifestyle, but Jim was not. He needed to have meaning, purpose, duty... not just lying around all day soaking up the sun and racking up orgasms. If he wasn't careful, he was going to find himself spoiled and getting way too used to a lifestyle he could never hope to sustain... or sustain for Claire.
He felt Claire stir beside him, and she immediately stretched her body as well, grinning from ear to ear. "How did you sleep after last night?" she asked.
"Pretty well," Jim admitted. "How did I do for my first performance ever?"
"Amazing, I think," she laughed. "I wish Grace and Hans had stuck around in the theater so we could talk to them a little and see how it went. I wonder when they left? What if we did all that and they didn't even see?"
Jim shrugged. "Oh, well. Their loss. Did you pick out my clothes for the vineyard today? I'm just going to let you keep dressing me so I don't make a fool of myself."
Claire rested her head on his belly and nuzzled, her tongue tracing the soft trail of hair leading down into his pajama bottoms. "You don't give yourself enough credit," she said. "You'll always be the sexiest man alive to me no matter what you wear. But yes, I'll put something together for you. I can't believe we're actually seeing our wedding venue today. It's unreal."
"Oh, it's very real, kiddo." He ruffled her blonde curls with a wink.
"Are you sure about this, Jim?" she asked nervously, resting her chin just above his navel. "I had a dream last night about your kids. Well, I've never met your kids... but the kids in the dream felt like your kids. I can't help but think it's a huge mistake to marry me without them knowing."
He frowned. Claire was only echoing his own fears and doubts. Of course he hated the idea of taking such a major step without his kids at his side. In a perfect world Barbie would be skipping through the field with flowers in her hair, and Jimmy would hand Claire the ring to place on his dad's finger. They'd spend summers together at the shore, and the kids would visit for Thanksgiving one year and Christmas the next. He and Barb would co-parent easily, trusting each other and Dan and Claire to love the kids just as they did.
But the truth was that Barbara and Dan had a distinct advantage: they didn't have the whole underbelly of a city out to get them, they didn't have unknown ghosts from the past knocking at their door, and they weren't currently holed up in the home of a notorious, presumed-dead gangster. Jim's life was ridiculously complicated, admittedly much of it his own making. If ignorance of it kept the kids safe, then that was the best gift he could give them. But Jim knew he also deserved to be happy. It was just going to have to be a balancing act— two lives, and the hope that one day the chaos would calm enough for them to meld together somehow.
Jim pulled Claire back up to join him on the pillow, fingering her silky camisole before stroking the warm skin beneath.
"I'll tell Barb about the wedding after we get home," he finally said. "Since she already knows about you anyway. But kids talk, kiddo. Barb has friends in Gotham that I'm sure she still talks to. And before you know it, there will be gossip all over town that will just make us targets all over again. I'm still a wreck after the lieutenant's death, and I can't shake the feeling that there's more coming. I know it's crazy, but I need to keep you safe— whatever it takes. Maybe in time I'll feel better, and things will change. But I don't want to wait until then to marry you. I want you to belong to me now."
Claire touched her lips lightly to Jim's arm, and he felt her leg curve around his. She was so warm and so soft; she smelled like jasmine, and her words soothed his soul, whether they came in the form of Mistress's commands, princess's sweet pleas, or Claire's supportive, realistic honesty. Marrying her was going to be the easiest decision of his life, in spite of Barb and the kids, in spite of work stresses and threats, and in spite of Hans Gruber. As long as it was the two of them, Jim felt everything else would fall into place.
"I guess I'll tell my parents after the fact too," Claire mused. "There's nothing wrong with eloping, right?"
"Nope," Jim agreed. "People do it every day. And we have a very good reason."
She nodded resolutely. "Okay. So we're doing this."
"We're doing this," affirmed Jim. "But first, coffee."
XXXXX
Claire felt herself bouncing up and down as their wooden wagon roved over the vibrant green and purple hillside. She and her three companions laughed giddily, having sampled every one of the winery's "Thirsty Thirty" before embarking on a tour of the vineyard and lavender field. Needless to say, neither couple would be scening that evening, but they were having fun with other pursuits on that glorious, sunny day.
As they reached the rows and rows of vines featuring plump white grapes, Claire took Jim's hand and jumped out of the wagon, eager to scope out the perfect spot for their ceremony on Saturday. Jim looked impossibly sexy in Claire's favorite of his shirts, the crisp sky blue that matched his gorgeous eyes. As he moved through the rows alongside Hans and Leo, the vineyard owner, Claire heard herself sigh with lust and happiness.
"I know... they're so hot, aren't they?" Grace agreed. "All confident and business-like."
It was true— the men were full of questions as Hans considered the prospect of buying the place. They folded their arms, nodded thoughtfully, and examined every detail of the property determinedly. Jim seemed nearly as invested as Hans. Every once in awhile one of the three would tell a joke, and the other two would laugh and pat the others on the back, high on the sunshine and the delicious wine.
Claire watched Jim a bit wistfully, wishing she could keep that lighthearted, confident grin on his face forever. She and Grace busied themselves picking grapes, with Leo's permission of course. After touring the vineyard and the lavender fields and planning the details of the Saturday wedding, Grace and Claire went with Leo's wife Marie to try their hands at making lavender wreaths, while the men relaxed with a full bottle this time instead of the tiny sample cups.
"Good thinking on coming here in the limo instead of driving one of your six cars." Jim commended Hans with a raised glass. "At this rate I don't think we'll be able to drive tomorrow, either."
The two men sat in high wingback chairs by an old stone fireplace, left on their own while Leo tended to a honeymooning couple there for their own tasting, and the girls worked on their crafting project. The winery was used to hosting weddings, and the couple had chosen music, cake, their favorite of the wines, and to get hitched among the lavender rather than the grapevines— Claire having fell in love with the lush strands of purple waving in the coastal breezes.
"So Gotham's tough, stern police commissioner is getting married in a field of purple flowers," Hans declared with amusement.
"Whatever Claire wants," Jim said emphatically. "But they did smell nice... like her hair, when she climbs in bed at night after washing it earlier in the day. And they'll make for nice pictures to look at when we get sick of Gotham gray."
"Ah, you get rather poetic and sappy when you're drunk," Hans said with a lift of his glass.
"As do you," Jim returned. "Was that actual poetry you were quoting on that carriage ride?"
"Lord Byron," Hans affirmed. "She walks in beauty, like the night. Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright."
"All that's best of dark and bright," Jim repeated, swirling a mesmerizing garnet pool in his glass. "Apparently I'm not the only guy in history to be torn between the two and unable to break free."
"Not at all," Hans said with a smile. "In fact, it is a privilege to be so. Tell me, which felt better... your love that walked only in the light, or your love for her?"
"I... hate to compare," Jim said quickly.
Hans didn't reply, his eyes just studying the commissioner patiently.
Jim sighed, defeated by the man's relentless silent interrogation, the power of the fruit of the vine, and the overwhelming elation of knowing Claire would be his, in this place, in just a few short days. "Her, of course. That doesn't negate the other... it's just me admitting that this is more powerful."
Hans nodded. "And that's at the heart of those lines. Love that embraces both the light and the dark and is molded by it, strengthened by it, can conquer all. It doesn't falter because its essence is everything— the dark, the light, the yin, the yang. Incidentally, you know Lord Byron's real name? George Gordon Byron. His mother was a Gordon, no doubt of Scottish descent like yourself. Just an amusing little fact— the benefits of a classical education," Hans added when Jim shrugged quizzically.
"I'm a city cop, Gruber. Flower fields and poetry aren't my thing."
"Aren't they? I would think anything can be one's 'thing' if it makes them feel good. Life is too short to live otherwise."
"What is this?" Jim demanded, trying to maintain a certain stern detachment even though his words were slurring. "You trying to talk me into staying like you are Grace?"
"I've already succeeded with Grace," Hans beamed. "And I am able to humble myself enough to give you and Bunny some credit for that. She was so overcome by watching your little show last night that she couldn't help herself."
Jim felt an embarrassing blush rise to his cheeks. "Well, I suppose that's good then. Congratulations."
"Thank you. As for you and Bunny... I simply want her happiness and safety. Wherever that may be. Just know that I'm available if you were to ever require... a certain assistance... again... to ensure either."
"Thanks," Jim muttered. They fell silent, and Jim could hear the girls' tipsy giggles wafting over from the adjacent art studio. He wasn't sure these lavender wreaths would be all that sturdy or attractive, given their level of intoxication. But he was glad they were having fun.
"Say Gruber," he began, looking up and trying to focus the German's stubbled face in his field of vision. "I just don't understand you. You seem like... such a good guy, sometimes. You seem to genuinely care for Grace... and I guess Claire, too. I just... I just don't understand how you can be... such a... a villain."
Hans gave his classic chuckle, laced with its slightly diabolical undertones, but then his tanned features gave way to seriousness. "I'm not a villain, Gordon. I'm just somebody who wants certain things in life... who's made certain choices... and goes after them."
"But the drugs... the murders... so many people dead, Gruber."
"Shut your loud, drunkard mouth, cop," snapped Hans. "I'd hate to spill blood here in my new winery. Now, how many people have died because of decisions you have made?"
"That's... that's different," argued Jim. "I was trying to do the right thing. You knew you were doing the wrong thing."
"Perhaps," Hans concluded. "But the end result was the same. Life lost, families and loved ones grieving. The wife of an unfortunate associate of mine probably woke up crying this morning just like the wife of an associate you locked up in Blackgate last year with no possibility of parole. Children crying for their fathers. We both have our sins, Gordon. We can trade justifications all day long, both for our actions and theirs, yet the suffering at the end remains. But both of us also care for those two women in that art studio over there more than we care for our own lives— so that's something, is it not? They brighten our days— make us forget the messes we've left behind. So let's drink to them, shall we?"
Gordon lifted his glass automatically, too tired to challenge any further. He really did need to get back to Gotham and get his head right. But for now, he just enjoyed the wine.
XXXXX
Jim stood nervously inside the main room of the winery, waiting for the carriage that would pick him up and take him to the field. He and Grace were riding ahead with Leo and the officiant, while the German would be escorting Claire in a separate carriage driven by Marie.
The vineyard owners were being incredibly accommodating, giving in to Claire and Hans's every whim enthusiastically. Since Hans had given them a generous offer for the property, they could see a happy, prosperous retirement just a few weeks down the road. Grace had spent the last couple of days with Marie getting to know the ins and outs of running it day to day and how to manage the staff. She'd arrived back at the Spanish villa every night absolutely bursting with excitement over her new duties and had already called the hospital to put in her notice. This of course had Hans on cloud 9, rendering him that warm, generous, almost radiant host that had Jim seriously questioning his own character and the moral lines he'd always drawn in the sand.
On the subject of sand, Jim and Claire had spent the bulk of their wedding-eve atop a large blanket in the moonlight, listening to the waves pound on the rocky shoreline. It was Jim's first time making love in the great outdoors, but he couldn't help himself. The area off of Hans's property was secluded and the spring air a bit too nippy for anyone to wander about late at night.
Claire had tantalized him walking along the cliffs in full-on Mistress stockings and pumps, the cheeks of that perfect ass smiling at him below tiny leather shorts and a pinup-style blouse. Once the Merlot-stained bow of her mouth had pressed to his, he'd been a goner. They'd spent hours buried under a camping blanket, interspersing orgasms with teenage-like make-out sessions and stargazing.
"See that really faint patch straight ahead?" Claire had asked, snuggling closer so her pillow soft breasts caressed his chest. "That's the constellation Sextans. It's abbreviated as 'Sex' and really can only be seen in April in the Northern Hemisphere."
Jim had almost forgotten her mentioning how much she liked stars, but he did recall her talking a lot about them during their first "real" date in the park last fall.
"So the 'sex' constellation came out for our wedding, huh?" Jim had mused with a grin. "How appropriate."
Claire had laughed too. "Well, to be fair it's named for a sextant — an astronomical instrument used to gauge star positioning, but we can think of it any way we like. We're lucky to be in a spotless place with clean, gorgeous skies like this, or else we'd miss it."
"Well, Gotham's on its way, thanks to Wayne," Jim had reminded her.
"True," she'd admitted. "Still... wouldn't you like to come back here someday? Permanently, I mean. When you're ready to give up Gotham."
"When Gotham's ready to give up me, you mean."
"That too... or whichever is first," she'd replied. "But this is where we could start again, you know?"
Jim had nodded, finally allowing himself to admit that this place may be what he needed, not just some tempting distraction. But a lot of things would have to fall into place for it to become reality. A lot.
Jim took his place in a field of lavender waving in alternating stripes with bright sunflowers, an almost unreal landscape like they'd stepped into a moving painting. It was warm and smelled like heaven. He was so far away from concrete and fluorescent interrogation rooms, old rusted dumpsters, dark alleyways and holding cells, that it was almost difficult to remember they existed.
Grace wrapped her arms around him and gave him a squeeze, looking like a sun-kissed flower herself in her strapless floral gown.
"I'm so happy for you," she whispered. "And grateful that you're taking care of her. She's needed you for so long."
"Guess you'll be here yourself pretty soon," Jim said with a smile. "You better catch the bouquet."
He heard Grace laugh just before the other carriage pulled up, and Hans descended with a proud adjustment to his necktie and lapels before offering his hand to Claire. Jim's eyes traced from his bride's outstretched hand up her arm, taking in every detail of the vision he would remember for the rest of his life.
She was in wedding white, of course, but with true Mistress flare— her dress a tight corset outlined in Chantilly lace with a sheer chiffon overlay, long-sleeved with tailored cuffs. The chiffon was gathered into a delicate knot and bound with lace at her neck, and she wore gold and pearl bracelets to match both her engagement ring and the princess collar that hid beneath her sheer, blousy scarf. Her lips were kiss-me ruby red, her complexion soft and flawless, her eyes smoky, and her hair thrown into a loose, braided updo that danced with the breeze.
She flashed a flirtatious smile in Jim's direction as she squeezed Hans's arm, making her way through tall lavender waves that brushed the gentle curves of her hips.
God, everyone should get married in a damn lavender field, the commissioner thought, nearly delirious with the intoxicating smell and the feel-good hormone cocktail flowing through his veins at the sight of his bride.
Hans locked himself right in front of Jim, looking down at him with a half smile, half glare that Jim interpreted as permission laced with threat.
"Who gives this woman in marriage?" the spectacled officiant asked, looking up at Hans with an expectant grin. Even she blinked a little in intimidation when he returned her gaze.
"I do," Hans replied dutifully, giving a slow, flourished nod as he forcibly transferred his bunny's arm from his to the commissioner's.
Jim resisted the strange urge to say "thank you," clearing his throat again as he awaited his cue to speak. He glanced over at Claire nervously, realizing that he'd never get over innocent, teenage boy jitters when it came to her. Hans laced his arm with Grace's and they stood off to the side, witnessing Jim and Claire's traditional vows. The vineyard owners had suggested that custom vows were all the rage, but Jim had insisted they go old-school- although the words hadn't served him all that well in the past, admittedly. Still... this was his chance to get them right this time. And he would, damn it.
...from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, I promise to love and cherish you...
Jim heard the officiant continue after the vows, Claire's hands firmly in his, her eyes the only thing he saw.
Love is patient, love is kind, love is not jealous. Love does not brag and is not arrogant. It does not act unbecomingly. It does not seek its own, it is not provoked, and it does not take into account a wrong suffered...
A wrong suffered. So many... before... with Barb. And so many taken into account, always, by them both. She would lash out with hers, while he would just hold his in as simmering resentment. Having a marriage that forgave wrongs would be the dream, would it not? But Jim had already forgiven Claire for the gravity of her past, and she'd forgiven him for leaving her when she'd needed him the most. If they could overcome that, they could overcome it all.
These rings are made in a circle and their design tells us that we must keep love continuous throughout our whole lives even as the circle of the ring is continuous. As you wear these rings, whether you are together or apart for even just a moment, may these rings be a constant reminder of the promises you are making to one another this day...
"With this ring, I seal my promise, to be your faithful and loving wife." Claire's voice was barely above a whisper, but it was melodic, warm, and meant just for him as she echoed his earlier promise.
"By the authority given to me by the State of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife. It is my privilege to introduce Mr. and Mrs. James Gordon! Please... kiss your bride."
Jim embraced Claire's corseted waist and kissed her giggling mouth amidst the clapping of the tiny crowd. When he and Barbara had married, their church in Chicago had been filled to the brim, even the balcony. They'd had dancing, a band, and plenty of booze at their local fire hall— the place packed to the gills— loud, lively, and honestly a little much for a quiet guy like Jim. But it had felt right at the time. Barb had looked youthful and happy, her red hair long, with a smile reflecting all the possibilities for their future.
He contrasted that with Claire's current expression... also happy and radiant, but serenely reflecting the present... the here and now. Because nothing could possibly top the beauty of this moment— quiet and low-key though it may be— and they could never be too sure of what tomorrow would hold.
They celebrated with a seated dinner on an open terrace to the side of the winery, which was high enough to provide a view of the ocean in the distance. A guitarist played and sang love songs, some classic, some modern, and they enjoyed the finest selections from the catering menu, hand-selected by Grace. She'd thoroughly enjoyed trying her hand at event planning and was ecstatic about her new role in Hans's latest venture. She would fly back to Gotham with Jim and Claire on Sunday afternoon, but only to tie up loose ends, pack essentials, and give notice on her lease.
"I won't bore everyone with a lengthy wedding toast," Hans began, standing with champagne in hand. "But I do want to toast to my bunny and her happiness, even if that happiness does involve the head of the Gotham police force. To new beginnings for all of us, and to common ground."
Jim let out a small laugh but gave in, lifting his glass to meet Hans Gruber's yet again.
"And as for your gift," Grace spoke up, handing Claire a small envelope, "We're giving you a night away from voyeurs listening to your every moan."
Claire laughed and opened the envelope to find an old-fashioned brass key.
"It's for that old stone inn you loved so much on the tour the other day," Grace said excitedly. "I've already checked you in and delivered a bag with your stuff."
"Thank you!" Claire stood and gave her best friend a hug.
"You buy the inn too, Gruber?" joked Jim.
"Very funny, Gordon. Not yet, but I might. Perhaps if Bunny convinces you to retire from the force, I could interest you in an innkeeper's post?"
"Not likely," Jim replied.
"I'll work on him, Hans," Claire said with a wink.
Hans's quote justifying his behaviors to Jim was actually borrowed from Alan Rickman himself, in an interview he gave about Hans Gruber's character. ? Fun little trivia.