Rowena, Caroline and Joe were waiting for them downstairs in the hall, and they turned to look with approval as Marty came running down the stairs, followed by Jack at a rather more sedate pace, but with the same look of enthusiasm on his face.
"Very smart," Caroline said, and then reached up to smooth down his hair. "You really should make a bit more of an effort, Marty. You're really quite nice looking, when you take a little bit of trouble."
"She doesn't want you to get swollen-headed," Joe translated helpfully.
"No chance of that around here." Marty looked over to where Bobby lay in his basket, with a mistrusting expression on his furry face. "But you still love me, don't you? It doesn't matter to you if I brush my hair or not, does it?"
The dog merely looked at him, pulled his ears back in disgust and turned his hair to the wall. All the unusual activity around the house and grounds as caterers, florists and a myriad of other people rushed around doing final preparations was clearly putting him out of sorts. Plus, someone had removed his bone and confiscated it.
"Clearly it does," Jack said. "I don't think he recognised you."
"Just as well." Caroline's tone was uncompromisingly tart. "You can't go to your wedding covered in dog hair, can you?" She made vague tutting noises under her breath and then inculcated Marty into his jacket, tugging the sleeves down, making sure the lapels lay flat and finally smoothing the back of his shoulders.
"It's just like being a little kid again," he complained. Any minute now she would produce her handkerchief and start scrubbing his face.
"You were less trouble when you were little and I could put you over my knee, young man." Caroline took a step back and surveyed the result. "You'll do." She was wreathed in smiles. "You'll do nicely." Her eyes were suspiciously bright as she laid a gentle hand on his cheek and took a last, fond look at him. "You're a good boy, Marty, even if you do threaten to turn my hair white with worry sometimes."
"I think we'd better getting going." After thirty years of marriage, it was obvious to Joe that Caroline was dangerously close to breaking down. He knew the last thing she would ever want was for Marty to see her cry. With a lady on either arm, Joe walked out to where two chauffeur driven cars were waiting in the driveway.
"This is it then." Marty took one last look around the hallway, and then gave a final glance up at his mother's portrait. He was sure she would have approved.
"This is it," Jack agreed. "You're ready?"
Marty nodded firmly. "I'm ready." His new life was about to begin and he couldn't wait.
The circular driveway was already lined with large terracotta pots, each with a white ribbon tied in a bow, and filled with a round topiary ball of lavender. Interspersed between each pot were huge hurricane lamps, containing fat white candles that would be lit when dusk fell. The house and grounds were gradually transforming themselves for the biggest party they had ever hosted and as the car drew away, the flurry of activity increased to fever-pitch as the final preparation swung into overdrive. Left alone in the house, Bobby licked his front paws reflectively and then sniffed the air appreciatively when the kitchen door opened and an enticing aroma floated into the entrance hall. Something strange was definitely happening, but as long as nobody tried to put a bow around his own neck or take him to the vets, the dog reckoned he could cope with it. Now, if only he could track down that missing bone, everything would be perfect.
"At last." Callen leapt forward as the car drew up and opened the door smartly, standing to attention as he did so. Like all the men in the wedding party, he and Sam were wearing dark suits, with silver grey waistcoats and pale blue ties, and were sporting button holes of lily of the valley and orange blossom.
"We're not late?" Marty got out of the car and checked his watch anxiously.
"You're on schedule." Sam had planned things out with meticulous precision, his former military training coming firmly to the fore. "And you're as white as a sheet." He clapped the younger man reassuringly on the back, perhaps a little more vigorously than he had intended, as Marty staggered briefly.
"There's not been any problems? You've managed okay?" All of a sudden, Marty was aware of everything that could go wrong. How could he ever have thought that getting married would be as simple as going to church and then having a really big party?
"Deeks – we've been showing people to their seats. How difficult is that? Blyes on one side, Brandels on the other, and then we kind of split the difference with everyone else." And, having been well-warned about Kensi's grandmother's weak bladder, they had made sure she was seated next to a side door.
"Nico's okay to play?"
Callen sighed. Deeks in a panic was enough to try the patience of a saint. "Nico's fine. You know that she wouldn't miss this for the world. Even if she can barely reach the keyboard." Walking behind the heavily-pregnant Nico, resplendent in her wedding finery, Callen had felt like a small tug following in the wake of some gracious ocean liner. "Nice hair cut, by the way. I don't think I've ever seen the back of your neck before."
There was something missing. Marty racked his brain furiously to think what it could possibly be. "Father John!" There was no sign of the priest. Oh great. That's all we need. How could we possibly get married without a priest? Does the diocese have a hotline for times like this, some sort of system of flying priests?
"The Father is waiting for you inside the church," Sam said patiently. He could remember a similar feeling of panic when he'd been about to get married, as if all your senses flew out of the window and it was impossible to think straight. He could sympathise, but it was still rather amusing watching Deeks lose it quite so spectacularly. Between them, he and Callen semi frog-marched Deeks into the dim interior of the church.
It felt like the longest walk he'd ever made, Marty thought, walking slowly up the aisle and trying to look straight ahead, knowing that every head was turning to look at him. God, there are people here I've not seen since I was a kid.
"I see the ghosts have come crawling out the Brandel closet," Jack commented in an undertone and then smiled insincerely in the direction of his brothers.
"I'm almost certain we didn't invite Aunt Muriel," Marty hissed. She was a second cousin, once removed and with a tongue that could strip paint off a door.
"You probably didn't. But you can't stop people coming into a church."
"The last time I saw her, she told me I was an odious small boy." And she meant it. It wasn't my fault that I sat on her Chihuahua. It blended perfectly into the chesterfield. And it bit me on the butt.
Jack nudged his son towards the front pew, and Marty only just managed to transform his inadvertent stumble into a suitably appropriate genuflection.
"I wonder if she thinks you've changed? Or if you've just grown into an odious big boy? " Jack pondered, and then bowed his head reverently as Marty tried not to laugh.
Two seconds later, after the quickest prayer ever, and he was checking his watch again. "She should be here soon. You do think she's coming, don't you?" His knee started jiggling anxiously.
"She's coming." Jack placed his hand firmly on Marty's thigh and pressed down. "Try not to worry, son. Sit back, relax and listen to the music." Nico, almost hidden by a huge arrangement of white roses, was playing her heart out.
"Relax? Really, Dad?" His mouth was dry, his heart was racing and Marty had never been more terrified in his entire life. What if Kensi didn't turn up? What if she'd had second thoughts? He'd better pray again and make a better job of it this time.
Two rows behind, Tony DiNozzo elbowed Ziva in the ribs. "Deeks looks as if he's going to pass out."
"He looks very handsome," she corrected and wondered what Tony would look like, sitting waiting for her to walk down the aisle.
"You're not going to cry, are you?" he asked, seeing an unreadable look on her face.
"What do you think?"
And that was the problem. He really didn't know what to think. Not at all. Tony had never known what to think where Ziva was concerned. She kept him continually dancing from one foot to the other. All he knew was that she fitted into his life perfectly and that he'd never known a woman like her, or loved anyone more. With a little bit of luck, all the rest would fall into place and one day he'd begin to understand her.
"Perfect timing." When it came right down to it, the secret to a wedding was all about the timing, Sam thought. Once you had your schedule, pretty much everything fell into place. And here was the car containing Allison and Nell pulling up already. If there was anything better than things running to schedule, it was when you actually had a couple of minutes in hand. Of course, Allison had been married to a Marine, so he really shouldn't have expected anything less of her.
Sam pulled out his cell and called Denise, who was waiting in a small garden behind the church, where Crosby could let off a little steam. There was no sense in expecting an energetic eight year old to sit still and behave in church, and it was already tempting fate to hope he would behave suitably angelically as ring bearer, but both his parents had issued dire threats, and then promised suitable bribes, in the desperate hope that he wouldn't disgrace them too much. Still, the chaos that one small boy could cause should never be underestimated.
"You look absolutely beautiful, Nell," Callen said, helping her out.
It was true: the pale blue dress was simple and elegant, complementing her petite frame perfectly and her dark amber hair gleamed in the afternoon sunlight.
"Wait till you see Kensi." Nell looked at Allison and smiled. "You won't believe how beautiful she looks. She looks like a movie star."
"I'm biased, of course, but she does look gorgeous." Allison fidgeted nervously. "He is here, isn't he?" There was no need to ask who she was referring to.
"He's here. And looking like he's going to pass out with nerves."
Crosby came tearing around the corner and then skidded to a halt as he saw Nell. "Wow. You look pretty." He then promptly went bright red and gazed down intently at his shoes and rubbed his right toe on the groud. In general, he didn't have much time for girls, but he was willing to make an exception where Nell was concerned.
"Do not scuff those shoes," his father instructed and then lifted the boy's chin up to take a final look at him. "You know what you've got to do? And you are going to behave, aren't you?" Sam was leaving nothing to chance.
"Yeah, Dad. I'm not a baby, not like Callie." Crosby looked disdainfully at his little sister, who was sleeping soundly in her mother's arms. How difficult is it to walk up the middle of the church holding a pillow? How old do they think I am – six, or something?
"No – you look very grown up," Allison said, taking in the dark suit and sparkling white shirt. "I'd think you were at least ten."
Crosby flashed her an appreciative smile and then hopped from one foot to the other. "Isn't she here yet?" Why do grown ups always have to stand around talking? Why can't we just get on with this? This is so boring.
"She's coming. The bride is always late. And do you need to go to the bathroom?"
"Mom!" How come parents are so embarrassing? "Dad always say it's rude to be late. How come she gets to be late?"
"Who's 'she', young man? The cat's mother? And anyway, it's a tradition. The bride is always late." Luckily for Denise, the wedding car swept up and any further questions were stalled.
A mass of white tulle seemed to float around Kensi's face and shoulders and when the driver opened the door the heady perfume of her flowers drifted out to greet the waiting party. Callen and Sam stood side by side and watched as Nell and Allison carefully arranged the veil and gown to perfection.
"You were never lovelier." Callen bowed his head briefly and then smiled at her. "You're going to make Deeks the happiest man on earth." He winked at Nell. "Looking good. Save me a dance?"
Nell nodded and then took a firm hold of Crosby's hand.
Sam blew her a kiss and watched as Kensi placed her right hand on Gibbs' arm. "He's not going to believe it when he sees you, Kensi. You give new meaning to the word 'gorgeous'." He gave Crosby one final look and then they went into the church, leaving Allison to say a final word.
"I'm not going to cry." She was blinking furiously. "Because I know you're going to be so happy, my darling girl."
"I am, Mom. And thank you, for everything."
Callen tactfully led Allison away and nodded to Father John, who was waiting just inside the doorway as they walked past. "I think they're ready now."
As the priest walked out to meet them, Gibbs placed his right hand protectively over Kensi's and she turned her face up to smile at him. This was going to be an awfully big adventure.
Marty had almost convinced himself that something had gone wrong, that Kensi had changed her mind, when Father John appeared and gestured for everyone to stand up. Taking a deep breath, he moved out of the pew to stand in front of the priest, hoping that no-one would notice how much his knees were shaking. There was a brief silence and then the first regal notes of 'One Hand, One Heart' began to fill the church and the sense of expectation from the congregation was almost palpable. He couldn't stand it any longer and turned his head around to look right down the aisle to where Nell and Crosby were just starting their slow progression. Behind them, still semi-hidden Marty could just see Kensi and he felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Everything was alright. Everything was going to be just perfect, because Kensi was here. This was really going to happen.
Slushy plot bunny is in seventh heaven right now - I hope you like the wedding so far. There is, of course, more to follow. Much more!