I got a feeling inside that I can't domesticate
It doesn't wanna live in a cage, a feeling that I can't housebreak
And I'm yours 'til the earth starts to crumble and the heavens roll away

- Fall Out Boy - Bishops Knife Trick -

Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?
Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul?
I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will

- Lana Del Rey - Young and Beautiful -

He let her drive, for once. He didn't know why- and she gave him an odd look- but he didn't bother explaining. Just sat on the passengers side and watched the dark city go by.

She parked, turned off the car, and got out, already feeling more relaxed, being away from HQ. She was sure she was going to get sick of HQ quickly, the more Sebastian's illness progressed. She wouldn't be able to bring herself to leave the country while he was ill. What if something happened while she was away? She tried to repress those thoughts, putting on a smile for him.

He climbed out as well, grabbing their bags with one hand and reaching out for her hand with the other.

Her chest ached at the simple contact, squeezing his hand with hers. Every touch from him was precious, especially now.

They took the lift up and he keyed in. The place smelled like home more than his flat at headquarters ever did, and he took a moment to just take it in before he closed the door behind them and walked in.

She followed him into the bedroom and put away her clothes, despite the fact they'd only be staying the night. Unless he was springing a surprise honeymoon on her, which she doubted. The timing just wasn't right.

He unpacked as well, taking in the comforting feeling of being in his own space, relaxed, removed. Alone except for Lorna, exactly how he wanted it.

She fell into the bed once she was done, splayed across the covers, and let out a long sigh. "God, this bed is comfortable. Is it just because I know there's not an intercom in here?"

"That and the fact that the mattress cost more than some cars," he said with a laugh. He walked around the bed and reached out to unzip her trousers.

"Jesus," she laughed, lifting her hips up a little to let him pull her trousers off. "Why didn't you splurge for the HQ one? You're there a lot more often."

He shrugged. "It never really occurred to me. The flat was never somewhere I thought of outside of work. It was where I needed to be. It wasn't a home in any sense of the word."

She nodded a little, a little bit surprised, though maybe it was only because she had the opposite way of thinking. Anywhere she settled down for long enough was made into her home, just on the principle that she needed one, and to be away from it caused her homesickness. It had been easy for her to think of his work flat as home, because that was where he was. This flat was a vacation, a break from the norm. "I've always thought of this place as a resort, sort of. Not home, but a fun replacement for it."

He shrugged a little. "I've had this place for a long time. Before Jim, though I fixed it up after I started working for him. All my moving around, with Jim and with the military before that, this has been a constant."

"That makes sense. Though I can't imagine how you afforded the size of this place before you were working with Jim. It's enormous."

"My father was rolling in money," he reminded her. "I had no problem spending it if I could get away with it, especially if he disapproved."

She raised her eyebrows slightly. "He still let you spend his money once you joined the military?"

"It's a wonder what he would let me do when I mentioned my upbringing during election season," he smirked.

She chuckled. "Good to have leverage I suppose. Whatever happened to his estate once I choked the life out of him? Did it go to Sara?"

"It was supposed to," he said with a smirk. "But there was a very strange last-minute change to his will that liquidated his estate and donated the profits to a wounded veterans fund. My sister tried to fight it in court but then the press got wind that she was trying to take money from wounded vets... Things got nasty for her rather quickly and she backed off." He looked very smug.

She whistled, grinning. "Well, well, well, aren't you a sneaky one. That's fucking hilarious, Sebastian."

Sebastian. Again the full name. She'd been doing that a lot lately. He shook off the curiosity as to why, and headed into the bathroom to start filling the jacuzzi. "Go find whatever you want to drink. I feel way too straightlaced if I'm not getting drunk in this thing."

She nodded, got up, and headed out the door to the kitchen, leaving her trousers behind on the bed. She rummaged around in his huge kitchen for a minute or two before remembering where the liquor cabinet was (how she'd ever forgotten, she wasn't quite sure) and came back into the room with a bottle of champagne in each hand. "I know it's not your favorite, but I was feeling celebratory. Celebratory why, I don't know. It's just this place, I guess?"

"Or possibly the fact that we're getting married tomorrow?" he suggested. He glanced up, and raised an eyebrow. "We just drinking straight from the bottle?" he asked with a small smile.

"Oh, shit, right, glasses," she chuckled, then shrugged. "Straight from the bottle is fine with me if it's fine with you."

He shrugged, pulling his shirt over his head. "Like I care. Straight out of the bottle it is." He stepped out of his trousers and pants and climbed into the filling tub.

She set down the champagne bottles on the edge of the tub and stripped down herself, not being shy about admiring him as she did, though a part of her wondered how much longer he would be like this. Invisibly ill. For now, you couldn't tell just looking at him that he had stage two lung cancer. She tried to repress those thoughts, and sank into the tub, immediately moving over into his lap.

He leaned back against the edge of the tub. The water was only to his waist for the moment, but rising. He pulled Lorna back to settle against his chest, brushing her long hair out of his face as he did so. He sighed, pressing his face to the top of her head for a moment, taking in her smell. Still moments. How many more of these did he have? They had always been finite, but now the number could suddenly be so much smaller.

She was content to sit for a few moments, and then she decided she agreed with his earlier statement about getting drunk in the tub, and shifted in his lap to grab one of the bottles, bracing it against her hip and popping the cork with a little bit of difficulty. "You would think I would be better at these by now," she snorted, shaking bubbles off her hand and taking a sip from the bottle. "Considering all the practice."

He laughed, taking the bottle and enjoying his own swig. "One thing you aren't good at. However will you survive?"

"It will be a painful existence," she sighed, waiting for him to hand it back and then taking another sip.

"So," he said, watching her drink, one hand drawing absent patterns in the water. "Anything special you want to do for the wedding, anything you want to be sure you have?"

She set the bottle down on the edge of the tub, and shrugged slightly. "I'm not sure. I wasn't putting too much thought into it. I didn't think it would be for a while."

He gave a crooked smile. "Well, start putting thought into it. You have..." He paused. "About twenty-two hours."

She chuckled. "Great. Well, I'll let you know if I think of anything. Chocolate mousse, maybe?"

"Chocolate mousse at the wedding?" he asked, grinning. "Alright. Weird, but alright."

"I like chocolate mousse, I'm lukewarm on cake," she shrugged, smirking. "We can still get cake if you want, though."

"I wasn't even going to bother with desserts, to be honest," he said, shrugging. "It's just you and me and Jim, and Kelly, maybe. Maybe Keira."

"Yeah, now that I think about it that makes sense," she sighed. "Alright, no desserts. I don't know what to ask for, then, honestly. I have you. That's all I want."

"We'll go out to dinner afterward," he assured her. "I'll find somewhere with devastatingly good mousse."

"Alright, I'm putting my trust in you. You better make it good," she warned, though her smile gave her away.

He snorted. "Have I ever steered you to a bad dessert?" he challenged, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her closer against him.

She easily nestled into him, and shifted a little to kiss his cheek, chest warm. She loved him so much. "Not that I can remember. It's a pretty safe category to steer in."

"So have a little faith. I will come through on the mousse," he snorted, jabbing her gently in the ribs with his finger.

She wiggled partly out of his lap, her nose wrinkled slightly at the poke. "Alright, alright! No need to go for the ticklish spots!"

He laughed, with a touch of a wheeze. "It isn't my fault you're ticklish everywhere."

"It's amazing my nerves still work, honestly, what with the trauma they've been through," she snorted, rolling her eyes at herself.

"Yeah, what the fuck is up with that?" he agreed lightly. He sighed, and stood up, dripping water. "Alright. Come on. You told me you can recite the Lord of the Rings movies word for word. I want proof. I'll make popcorn."

"Cutting the bath short? Alright, whatever, as long as we bring the champagne, I'll be happy to show off," she chuckled, standing after he'd stepped out of the bath.

"We can reconvene the bath later. I was getting pruney," he called back, wrapping a towel around his waist as he headed for the living room.

She shook her head, smirking, and took her time drying herself off and finding a bathrobe in her things before walking out of the bedroom to find him.

He didn't sleep much that night, even after she went to bed around three. He stayed awake, listening to his records at a low volume, elbows on his knees, thinking. He was getting married. They were getting married. And he was dying. Life was a fucking bastard, but when had it ever been anything else?

She woke up several times before he eventually went to bed sometime in the early morning, and then she was content to sleep with him nearly until noon, tangled up in his arms and legs like she had for years. She woke up before him, and got up to make breakfast, some part of her disbelieving that she was getting married today. It wasn't ever an aspiration she had had, not even as a child, and it was surreal that after all this time they were actually, finally and truly committing.

He woke to the bed empty, causing a momentary panic which was eased by the smell of sausages cooking. He got up, scratching the back of his neck as he pulled on sleep trousers and walked into the kitchen. "You're cooking?"

"Don't say that so shocked," she protested, turning to look at him with a smirk. "Yes, I'm cooking. I did survive just fine on my own before I met you, you know."

"If I remember correctly, 'surviving fine' meant living off of microwavable pasta, take-out, and booze," he retorted, walking to the freezer and pulling out bread to thaw for toast.

"Just because you never saw me cook doesn't mean I didn't. I mean, admittedly much less than you, and there were a lot of microwave meals and take-out, but I did cook," she said defensively, prodding the sausages with a sizzle of fat.

"Mhm," he chuckled, leaning down to kiss the back of her neck on his way to the toaster.

She let the conversation drop, warmth spreading across her skin from the spot he'd kissed, and focused on making sure she didn't burn the food. He had enough to rib her about already.

He put a few slices in the toaster, before heading to the liquor cabinet and returning with a bottle of white wine, pouring two glasses. He wasn't technically supposed to be drinking, with the slew of medication he was on, but fuck it. It was their wedding day. "Here," he said, handing one over.

"Thanks," she hummed, taking it and raising it a little in his direction before taking a sip. "Aren't we supposed to be saving this for the reception, though?"

"Who says we can't drink all day, precisely?" he asked, grinning and taking his own sip before walking over to ensure the toast wasn't burning.

"I do!" She laughed, leaning against the counter while she waited for the sausages to finish up. "We can't be smashed during our own wedding! I want to remember it, thank you very much."

"Not smashed! Just buzzed," he scoffed. His phone buzzed and he glanced at the text, and sighed. "Jim is sending a car for us. Evidently he's arranged for pre-wedding preparations of some sort."

"Fuck," she muttered, turning off the stove and hurriedly getting out a couple of plates for the two of them. "We'd better eat fast, then. I doubt he'd be happy to wait around for us to leisurely accept his generosity."

He agreed, throwing toast onto the plates and going to the refrigerator to grab margarine. "Probably not, no."

She sank down into one of the chairs at the table and started to shovel food into her mouth. "Any idea wha' he's go' planned?" She said, around a mouthful of sausage, her eyes tracking him as he came back from the refrigerator.

"None whatsoever," he said, tossing down margarine and marmalade and starting to dress his toast. "It's Jim. Who the hell knows."

She was silent for a moment, focusing on eating, then dressing her own toast, and then got around to speaking again. "I'm nervous. Not about the wedding; about Jim."

"What about him?" he asked through a mouthful of toast.

"What if this is some last-minute changing of his mind?" She raised her eyebrows.

He shrugged. "Then I'll fight him about it and marry you anyway," he said calmly, taking a bite of sausage.

She smiled a little and nodded slightly, returning to her food a moment later. How far they'd come. "Alright, I'm less nervous."

He rolled his eyes. "Don' be an' idiot," he said through a mouthful of meat. "Di' you e'er talk to Keira?"

"I sent her a text last night, though looking back I'm not sure how legible it was; I was pretty drunk," she said, quirking her eyebrows a bit and shifting to pull her phone out of her pocket to check. "Yup, it's just barely legible." She turned the screen his way.

Weding tmrww. Choclate moose. u in/ Lh

"Oh, good, I'm sure she's not confused at all," he said sarcastically, pulling out his own phone and dialing Keira's number, tossing it into the middle of the counter on speakerphone. It rang twice.

"Are you sober now?" Keira's voice was dry.

"Yes," Lorna rolled her eyes. "Sorry about the bad text. Forgot to do it earlier when I was sober. Are you coming or what?"

"Oh Jesus, that part wasn't drunken revelry?" Keira asked, sounding somewhere between bewildered and appalled. "You're actually fucking getting married?"

"You knew we were engaged! I told you when one of us had a shotgun in the other's face - I can't remember which one of us had the shotgun at that particular moment - but I definitely told you," she said, shaking her head slightly. "We just moved up the date, that's all."

"Engaged and married are completely different animals. I never thought you would go through with it. Fuck. This is because he's sick, right?"

Moran rolled his eyes. "That had an influence, yes." He took a bite of toast.

"Fuck. Sorry, dad. I didn't know it was on speaker."

"Fuck off, spawn, and show up to the damn wedding," he shot back.

Dad? Lorna mouthed, eyebrows raised, a little surprised. "You couldn't tell you were on speaker by the quality of the audio? What is this, amateur hour?" She jabbed lightly, smirking. "But yes, listen to your father. Wear something nice."

"Yeah, okay, great. Text me the address and time. Byeee..." She hung up. He rolled his eyes and pocketed the phone again, wolfing down the rest of his food and ignoring the dad comment. He didn't want to think about why she'd made that decision.

She followed his lead and finished up what was on her plate before turning in her chair to assess the pans on the counter. "We're probably going to be coming back here tonight, right?"

"If we don't I'll send someone to clean," he said, uncaring, heading for the bedroom. He needed to get dressed and take medication.

She nodded and followed him a moment later.

Five minutes later and they were getting into the back of the car Jim had sent for them, their luggage in the trunk.

Moran sat back, watching the world carefully as it passed by, out of habit. It was relaxing. A distraction which prevented him from thinking too deeply about much else.

They pulled into the garage and she got out, straightening her shirt. "Alright, what's he got in store for us this time?"

Kelly was waiting, and smiled. "You're with me, Lorna. Sir, Mr. Moriarty is waiting for you. He nodded to a dark limo parked nearby.

"Christ," he sighed, glancing at Lorna. "I suppose I'll see you later."

"I'm not even invited?" She groaned, reaching out to squeeze his hand before letting him go. "Alright, Kelly. Take me away."

"Of course you aren't invited," Kelly chided as he led her toward the lift. "He can't see you in the dress before the event. What sort of operation do you think I'm running here?"

Moran rolled his eyes and climbed into the car.

"I didn't know there was going to be an event," she snorted, giving one last passing glance towards the limo and following Kelly. "What are we doing? Did Jim change his mind?"

He shrugged. "Who knows? All I know is that I'm supposed to be getting you ready. Come on, I've got everything laid out in grifting."

"Ah, joy, the whole office will know we're getting hitched, I'm sure Sebastian will love that," she shook her head, rolling her eyes slightly.

"Yes, because I'm that incompetent," he snorted. "I cordoned off a back dressing room. The whole office is curious as all hell, but no one's seen the dress. And won't, until you walk out. Then the whole office will know you're getting hitched, and they will weep with jealousy."

She laughed. "I look forward to telling him that the whole network now knows. I'm sure that won't put a strain on the honeymoon at all." Then she sighed a little, dreamily. "But god, he's a catch. I'd like to kill me, in their shoes."

"No offense to Moran, but I think most of them will be envying him more than you," he shot back with a smirk as he called the lift.

"Well that's their mistake, isn't it," she smirked, winking at him, then laughed again, giddily. "I don't know what that was supposed to mean."

He gave her a broad smile. "I think this is the giddiest I have ever seen you."

"I'm going to get married! Kelly, I may actually happy cry. I did when we got engaged," she chuckled, huffing out a breath as they stepped into the lift.

"How did that even happen?" he leaned against the wall, watching her.

"I made a joke about it, and we got into a fight over it. When everything was done burning he asked me if I would consider actually doing it. To make a long story extremely short."

He actually snorted in laughter. "Fucking of course." He shook his head. "How else?" The lift opened and they were silent as they walked through the grifting department. Many eyes turned to follow them curiously as they headed toward the locked back room, but Kelly ignored them, grabbing a ring of keys and unlocking the door, stepping inside and letting Lorna in before closing it behind them.

She whistled at the array of makeup, hair brushes, nail polish and more in front of her, putting her hands on her hips. "Jesus, Kelly, he won't recognize me when you're through with me!"

"Nonsense," he snorted. "We're just accenting your features. Sit. Hair first."

She sat, though she looked a little intimidated. "Jesus. I haven't had someone else do my hair in ages."

"I'll be gentle," Kelly said sardonically, picking up a brush and starting to work it through Lorna's dark hair.

"I thought you disliked this stuff, anyway," she said conversationally, settling down comfortably.

He shook his head. "Not really. On myself, sure. Dysphoria's a bitch. But I've always enjoyed doing hair and makeup and things on other people. Once I transitioned though, not much chance for it. Most guys aren't really into painting nails."

"They're missing out, really," she hummed. "I love having scarlet nails. Makes my hands look regal."

He laughed, nodding in agreement. "I'll grant you that. I might start doing my nails again. That never really bothered me."

"If anyone looked at you sideways you have my permission to maim them," she said cheerfully. "Not that I suspect they would. We've got a pretty queer department. Have to be."

"That's certainly the case. Honestly, it's an upside of working grifting. I doubt hits is quite so bent." He set the brush aside and grabbed a comb, starting to divide her hair into sections.

She rolled her eyes. "Having been the head of it, they are excessively straight."

"Not what I've heard about your beau, though," he said with a smirk. "Something about a menage a trois with the big boss?"

She smirked right back into the mirror. "I should probably try to dispel those rumors, but the fact is that it's gotten too widespread to keep a lid on. But yes, Sebastian is very not straight."

He snorted. "Sleeping with the boss... that has to be utterly terrifying." He started plaiting carefully.

She laughed. "Sebastian and I thought he would kill us after it happened the first time. It would have been something hilarious to have seen our faces when he hinted it wasn't the last time."

"Christ almighty, I can't imagine," he snorted. He started pulling more strands into the braid, working it along the back of her head. "Is he good in the sack though, the boss?" he asked conspiratorially.

"Very, especially when you're as twisted as Moran and I. I prefer Seb, of course, but it's always an interesting night when Jim is involved," she chuckled, shrugging a bit. "How many bets are there, involving the three of us, by the way, and are you making any cash off us?"

Kelly scoffed. "Please. The whole network is in. I've made a few hundred. Nothing too pretty." He bound the end of the braid with black ribbon and started pinning it up.

"How did anyone get the confirmation they needed to win?" She asked curiously, eyebrows raising. "Maybe it was no secret that I was fucking Jim while Moran was dead, but no one ever caught the three of us."

"Clean-up crews," Kelly said matter-of-factly. "And security. But I didn't win on the three of you, to be honest. I was betting on the fucking in the lift."

She snickered. "That one's been a long time coming, honestly. I don't know who bet against that, but it was stupid of them."

"Most people bet that Moran wouldn't be enough of an exhibitionist. Amateurs," he snorted, rolling his eyes.

She scoffed. "He doesn't need to be an exhibitionist, he's marrying me. That man will fuck me almost anywhere, and I in no way mean that badly. We've got the best love life of anyone I've ever met."

Kelly let out a snort of laughter. "Christ knows you deserve it. Grifting is the sex equivalent of working in an ice cream shop. Everyone thinks your job must be the greatest, but in reality the flavors are all kind of shitty and you're sick of ice cream inside of a fortnight."

"God, the number of times I've had to explain that to the idiots in other departments looking to get a transfer," she rolled her eyes. "That's not even how it works! If everyone could request a transfer whenever they pleased we'd never get anything done because we'd be vetting people all the time."

Kelly shook his head, scoffing. "Crazy bastards."

In the end it took a little under two hours to get Lorna completely made up. Kelly stood back, then, eyeing her up and down before stepping forward to adjust the lay of her dress slightly. "Perfect," he decided matter-of-factly.

She smoothed down the front of the red gown, even though it wasn't at all needed, swallowing nervously. "You think? 'Cause Jim Moriarty is attending my wedding and I'd hate to look anything less, you know?"

He motioned for her to look in the mirror. "You taught me."

She looked, and was not disappointed by what she saw. Her long, dark hair looked thicker than ever, waving gently down, and the bodice of her dress had just enough firmness to have a just a slight corset-like effect. Her blood red lips matched the hue of the dress and veil, and she could find no flaws in the makeup or the stitching of the dress, which she owed to both her and Kelly's steady hands. Not even Jim Moriarty could find fault in her appearance today. She beamed. "Alright, not unrecognizable after all. Well done, you."

He smirked, giving a playful bow before coming over with a long coat to protect the dress for the ride. "Alright. You should be going. A driver is waiting."

She nodded, smiling, nervous but excited energy buzzing through her. "Right, thanks. See you later, Kelly."

There was a car waiting for her in the garage, and beside it stood Keira, dressed in a crimson dress that matched Lorna's fairly well for color (courtesy of Kelly). Her hair was back to its usual darkness, no longer blonde, and she nodded a little at Lorna as she approached. "Hey."

"Hey," she grinned, one hand in her skirt to keep herself from stepping on it. "Surprised you came. Surprised you came in a dress. Figured you for a suit."

She shrugged. "I like dresses just fine," she said calmly. "It's nice to wear something other than tactical gear now and then." She opened the car door and slid into the back, nodding to the chauffeur.

She followed her in, a little more carefully. She didn't want Kelly's hard work to go to waste. "How many of your friends are going to ask you details about this, do you think?"

"All of them," she said matter-of-factly. "I'm going to have bargaining material for months." She looked pleased.

She chuckled, shifting a little as the car started forward out of the garage. "They're going to be disappointed when they finally hear about it. It's not going to be very exciting for anybody except me and maybe Seb."

Keira raised an eyebrow. "I'm shocked. You didn't convince him into extravagance?" she asked sarcastically.

She rolled her eyes. "I didn't want to. Do you really think of me that way?"

She shrugged. "You seem the extravagant type," she retorted, leaning back, head against the glass, watching the city through the tinted windows. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"I... Have no idea. Hey," she leaned forward to tap the chauffeur's shoulder, "Where are we going?"

"I'm under orders not to tell you, ma'am," he said, looking back as they stopped at a red light. "And Moran requested that you wear these." He held out two crimson silk blindfolds.

She looked at him suspiciously. "Moran? Told us to put our guards down?"

"He said you would say that," he said, nodding. "He told me to tell you that he has two cars escorting this one." He pointed to two black SUVs that were on either side of the car. "And, forgive me ma'am, but he wanted to be quoted, 'Enjoy the damned surprise, Harrison.'"

"Yeah, that sounds like him," she muttered, reaching out to take the blindfolds and hand one to Keira, beginning to put hers on herself.

Keira rolled her eyes, but did the same.

The drive that followed lasted only another twenty minutes or so, stop and go through London traffic. They then stopped again and there was the sound of a door, and the chauffeur walking around. He opened Lorna's door. "We're here, ma'am. You can remove your blindfolds."

She tugged the knot of the blindfold loose, and was very startled by what she found. "Is this.. the Tower? Good god."

"Yes, ma'am. Our employer and your fiancé are waiting inside. If you'll follow me?" Keira made a low noise that was almost impressed, and followed.

"I'd say he's really outdone himself this time, but this is really only the first surprise location specifically for me," she said conversationally, stepping out of the car. Miraculously, she'd managed to keep her hair unscathed in the car ride. Her crimson veil was still placed on the back of her head, and then she realized at some point she'd have to pull it over her face. "You'll let me know when we're coming up on him, yes?"

"There will be a rather large door, I'm told, ma'am," he said, nodding. "You're expected to make an entrance. Kelly has had flowers arranged. For you as well, Keira."

She nodded, and took a deep breath. Wow, this was really happening. "Okay. Let's go. I want to get married."

The man nodded, and guided them through the tower grounds. There were guards standing at attention and walking rounds, but other than them and the ravens, the place was empty. "This way," he said, leading them to the White Tower and up to the second floor, stopping outside the door to St. John's Chapel.

She chuckled, reading the sign. "This is very Seb. I assume this is it?"

He nodded. "They're waiting inside," he said. He knocked on the door, and then nodded to her. "Whenever you're ready."

She nodded, coughing once, nervously, and reaching out for the door before stopping herself and reaching back to pull her veil over her face. She could feel a nervous mix of excitement and trepidation in her chest, and she knew the longer she waited the more it would build, and without further ado reached out and opened the door.

The chauffeur handed her the bouquet as she opened the door, and Keira one as well. The girl regarded it with an odd expression, but then held it, falling into an awkward walk just behind Lorna.

Moran and Jim were at the front of the chapel, watching. They both wore black tuxedos, with dark crimson silk bow ties and accents matching Lorna's dress, and ruby cufflinks. The first note of abnormality was the daggers tucked into their waist sashes, dark enamel the color of blood traced with silver. The second was the capes fastened at their left shoulders by silver crests, dripping like a pool of blood over their shoulders.

Jim looked, for his part, bored with the proceedings. But Moran's eyes were fixed on Lorna, following the fluid path of her entrance. Her dress... He could remember her, bathed in blood over so many kills, and his eyes were dark when they found hers.

Her first impression was: capes. Her second impression was: ...capes? Her third impression was: holy shit, do I have a cape fetish? She only had eyes for Sebastian, standing there in what she could only assume was traditional Irish garb, shoulders impossibly broad, accented by the cape at his left side. She met his gaze with similar heat, with her fourth impression being that he was definitely going to fuck her in those clothes. Five years, and they still had that fire. It felt silly, walking down the aisle at a normal pace, but even sillier to go slower or faster, and when she finally came up on him she was buzzing with impatience, her short breaths pressing her chest against the stiff bodice of her dress. "Hey," she smiled as she stopped in front of him, only then getting around to looking at Jim and the officiant. "Hey, Jim, hey, Meatloaf."

Jim gave her a small smirk, having picked up on the first, second, third, and fourth thought, and rather pleased with himself for orchestrating their cause. Meatloaf, looking a touch nervous, but for once free of his namesake odor, nodded his greeting.

"Hey," Sebastian murmured, reaching out to take her hand in his. "You look... fuck. Remind me to thank Kelly." He grinned. Keira shifted over to stand on Lorna's side, face for once free of sarcasm. Her father looked thinner than he should, but Moriarty's tailor had done his job, and the tux hid much of it.

She grinned right back, and suddenly found she was startlingly close to tears, squeezing his hand, and then she looked over at the others. "I don't actually know what to do from here. Vows? I've never attended a wedding."

"Christ almighty," Jim muttered. "Just listen and respond when you're told, Harrison, it isn't complicated." Moran chuckled, and gripped her hand a little. Meatloaf cleared his throat, looking down.

"Yes. I have.. ah... vows... here," he said, flipping a few pages and nodding, looking up at Lorna. "Are you ready?"

She chuckled and nodded, reaching out to take Moran's other hand, in substitute for how much she wanted to just be in his arms. "Yes, I'm ready."

Keira took the bouquet to get it out of her way, before slipping back behind her. Meatloaf cleared his throat again. "Do you, Lorna Harrison, take Sebastian Moran to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, in sickness and in health, in... uhm..." He squinted, glanced at Jim, then returned to his paper. "...in blood and chaos, as long as you both shall live?"

She nodded a little, before realizing that wasn't a good enough answer, and opened her mouth to respond. She shut it once, then opened it again, and took a deep breath. "Can I say something, first? That's allowed, I'm pretty sure," she chuckled, then cleared her throat, nervously, looking down between them for a moment before meeting Sebastian's ice blue eyes again.

"I know that big, grand gestures and words aren't really your thing, so I'll try to make this quick. So, um... I never fell in love until you. God knows I can't imagine it with anybody else. After everything we've been through the past four years... I couldn't have done any of it without you. I can't pinpoint the moment we stopped fighting this, but god, I can't picture what my life would look like without that moment. Much less satisfying sex, probably, for the both of us, but..." She shook her head a little. "I don't know if I would have ever been.. happy. An emotion unique to you, it seems. You're the best addiction I've ever had, Sebastian Moran. Alright, that was my piece. Yes, I do."

Sebastian Moran did not cry.

So, he told himself, he was most certainly allergic to something in this dusty fucking chapel. Which explained the bleary blinking. He swallowed once, and the effect went away, hopefully before anyone noticed. He would really hate to kill anyone in this room. Except Meatloaf. He could kill Meatloaf.

Said officiator nodded at Lorna's reaction and turned to Sebastian, repeating the request.

He looked into Lorna's eyes. This was it. The moment he decided if this was really what he wanted his life to be. Sebastian Moran, married man.

He wasn't one for words, and she knew that. But he took a moment to study her face, and let her study his, find the emotions there. She was beautiful in the warm light of the chapel, and he never wanted to forget the way her face looked as she waited. "I love you," he said finally. "And yeah. I do."

She didn't wait for Meatloaf to get through saying he could kiss the bride before she'd flung her veil over her head and kissed him, hands on either side of his face, thumbs stroking over his cheeks while tears spilled over her own.

"You've missed the rings, Meatloaf," Jim said dryly, watching as Moran wrapped his arms tightly around Lorna, lifting her up into his arms and kissing her back hungrily. "Not that they seem to mind."

Meatloaf gave a small smile, obviously nervous at being in such close proximity to the three most powerful people he knew. "Knowing them, sir, I figured it was for the best to let them get to that bit when they've got the part they really want out of the way." The pair were still kissing passionately, and Keira was standing to the side looking a little exasperated.

"I'll concede the point," Jim admitted, reaching up to adjust his cape absently. "They've got to come up for air at some point."

Eventually it was Moran who pulled back, eyes glinting, smile broader than he thought he had ever worn it in public, at least when he wasn't threatening someone. Air had been the deciding factor- his lungs weren't what they used to be, and he did his best not to wheeze as he caught his breath. But he was still beaming. Jim rolled his eyes, passing forward a small box, and he took it, offering it to Lorna. "If you don't like them we can exchange."

She opened the box, unsure what to expect, and was stunned by what she found. Bands of silver, inlaid with a Celtic pattern of twin entwined serpents in gold. The craftsmanship was stunning. "God, no, I love them. When did you have the time to get these made?"

"We've been engaged for a while," he returned with a smirk and a shrug. "I figured I'd get it done early so I had them when I needed them. We aren't exactly the sort to give ourselves notice." He reached out and took the smaller of the rings, offering it out with a raised eyebrow.

She lifted her hand for him, feeling her cheeks become red. She wasn't a person used to feeling bashful.

His smirk only widened at that, meeting her gaze with a wink as he slid the ring into place, next to their engagement ring. That damned thing that had somehow stayed with her through the labyrinth... He shook his head, lifting her hand to kiss it playfully before letting it drop.

She plucked the other ring out of the box and did the same for him, and then rose up to kiss him again, to much eyerolling from Keira.

He leaned down then, kissing the corner of her jaw and whispering "The knife is sharp..." He nipped her ear, pulling back and winking as his hand touched the dagger almost as an after-thought. He looked down at his hand, then, at the ring sitting there, somehow glaringly conspicuous, though in reality it wasn't all that large. He shook his head a little, and looked back up at her, grinning lopsidedly. "Well, shall we?" he asked, offering her his arm.

"Please," she nodded, taking it. This all felt like a dream; one of the ones that she never wanted to wake up from.

One look from you and I'm on that faded love
Out of my body and flying above
If there were any more left of me, I'd give it to you
And I'll tell you that I am fine, but I'm a missile that's guided to you

- Fall Out Boy - Heaven's Gate -