Sorry for the wait! This chapter was the hardest to write, because I was trying really hard to keep it not-too-fluffy and stay in character, and weddings are so easy to go overboard with.

Probably only one more chapter, though I may split it into two depending on how long it gets. And the translation will come at the very end! Be patient.

Ziva tucked the last of the red roses into Abby's carefully coiled hair. "There," she said, finally satisfied. "You look perfect."

Abby stared at herself in the mirror. "Wow." She blinked. "You're good at this." Turning slowly, she studied her reflection. Finally, she took a deep breath and smiled. "You're right. It is perfect." She turned abruptly and flung her arms around Ziva. "Thank you so much, Ziva! I couldn't have done this by myself."

Ziva squeezed her tightly for a minute and then took her by the shoulders and firmly pushed her back. "Do not wrinkle yourself!" she scolded. "We do not have time to steam your dress again." She handed Abby her bouquet of red and black roses and kissed her quickly on the cheek. "Now, I have to go sit with Tony and make sure he doesn't shoot any snotballs –"

"…spitballs, Ziva…"

" – thank you, spitballs," Ziva said, without missing a beat, "at McGee before, during, or after the ceremony. We will see you very soon."

"Ziva?"

Ziva turned with her hand on the door. "Yes?"

Abby's smile had a nervous edge to it. "Can you send Gibbs in?"

"Of course." Ziva smiled at her. "You look beautiful, Abby, and everything is going to go smoothly." She closed the door softly behind her.

She was standing by the window, looking outside, clutching her bouquet in one hand. Her hair was pinned up in smooth curls, with dark red rosebuds and fully opened blooms tucked in against the black. She wore no jewelry except for her ruby engagement ring, and her dress was floor length white satin that left her arms bare, unadorned except for a wide black satin sash that tied in a complicated knot at her waist and flowed down the back of her skirt.

She was so beautiful his heart clenched, and he wondered if this is how he would have felt on Kelly's wedding day.

"Nice dress," he said evenly, taking a sip of his coffee.

A tiny smile tugged at her lips. "It was my grandmother's coming out dress, when she was a debutante," Abby told him. "My mom wore it when she married my dad. I'm not big on convention, but I do like tradition. And family." She glanced down. "Oh, I added the sash, though."

As if he could have thought anything else. "I figured." He set his coffee cup on the table. "They're going to come get us soon. You ready?"

Abby started to nod, and then shook her head, and then nodded again, and then just stood very, very still. "Gibbs…I can't do this. I mean, I can…I want to. I just…"

Walking across the room, he stood next to her and waited.

She swallowed hard. "He thinks I can make him happy, but what if he's wrong? What if we're both wrong? Look at him. He should be marrying some blond kindergarten teacher who makes pot roast and bakes cookies and collects teapots instead of African tribal masks and…We don't make sense."

He raised his eyebrows at her.

"And oh, God, we're going to want to have kids. And I'm old, Gibbs. Not as old as you – not that you're old, you're just older than me, and I'm older than Tim, and I mean, I don't go out in the sun and I take really good care of my skin so I probably won't wrinkle for a while, but still, it can be harder to get pregnant as you get older and…and…I could die first and leave him all alone. Or he could go out on some assignment and get shot and leave me all al – Oh, Gibbs, I'm sorry," she said, her face stricken. "I didn't mean –"

Gibbs stepped in and carefully detached her bouquet from the death-grip she had on the stems. He took her gently by the shoulders and pulled her close, kissing her temple. "Shhh…" he murmured. "It's okay, Abby. It's going to be okay." He took her hands in his and looked her in the eye. "When he asked you to marry him, what made you say yes?"

Abby stared at him for a moment, startled, and then her eyes went soft. "Because I could see this…" she laughed, "…picture, in my head, of the two of us when we're old and wrinkled and grey, fighting over who should program the computerized kitchen to make dinner."

Smiling, Gibbs lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. "That's a good picture, Abs. Hang on to that and you'll be just fine." He pushed a stray curl behind her ear and handed her her roses. "He's one of the best men I know, Abby, and I wouldn't have said yes when you asked me to do this if I didn't think you were both going to be very happy for a very long time."

A quiet knock sounded on the door, and he stepped back and offered her his arm. "Ready?" he asked.

Abby took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she turned to him and grinned, the grin she had that reminded him of Kelly, that had caught him the first day he met her.

"Absolutely," she said, sliding her arm through his.

They marched slowly up the short aisle to the deep notes of the organ. Sister Rosita and the nuns from Abby's bowling team had arranged for her to use the small chapel attached to the convent, and had done the flowers themselves. Their guests barely filled the first two rows of pews – Tony and Ziva, Ducky, Palmer, McGee's parents and Sarah, Abby's brother, sister-in-law and niece, and her mother and sister. They'd left an empty seat among them, in memory of her father. The nuns sat behind them, whispering among themselves that hadn't Miss Abby found a nice-looking young man?

Miss Abby's nice-looking young man was staring at his approaching fiancée in total astonishment. Somewhere in the back of his mind – the tiny part that wasn't in awe of how beautiful she was or falling fathoms further in love – he wondered if Abby would ever stop surprising him.

God, he hoped not.

"Who gives this woman to this man?" he dimly heard the priest say, his focus entirely on Abby. He almost laughed at the face she made – she'd tried every variation on those words she could think of, searching for something that didn't sound quite so…archaic, but had eventually settled on the traditional question.

"Her –" The sound of Gibbs stopping and clearing his throat drew McGee's attention for a moment. "Her family and friends and I do." The man's razor-sharp gaze was suspiciously damp as Abby kissed his cheek. He placed her hand in McGee's and folded her fingers around his. "Remember, Tim. I have a gun, a shovel, and an entire team who would be more than willing to help me cover up the crime," he said in an undertone.

McGee gulped, while Abby tried to cover up a snort. Was gut-wrenching terror something you were supposed to feel on your wedding day? "Uh, yes Boss," he answered automatically.

And then Gibbs was stepping away, and Tim's eyes were back on Abby and hers were on him and they were the only two people in the world.

"You look beautiful," he murmured as the priest began the ceremony. "But I almost didn't recognize you. I was all prepared for pigtails and black and platform boots."

Abby gave him a mischievous grin and lifted the hem of her dress a few inches. Peeking out from underneath all the white were her favorite black platform books with red flames on the soles.

Nobody knew why the groom suddenly burst out laughing and kissed the bride firmly on the lips less than a minute into the ceremony.

But there was something in their faces that made everyone smile.