Yes - finally this is the chapter you have all been waiting for, as Kensi and Deeks get married. Hankies at the ready, everyone...
Standing at the foot of the aisle, Gibbs counted inwardly as he watched Nell and Crosby take their measured paces up the dark blue carpet that stretched out like plush velvet towards the altar. Three… four… five. Okay, it's time. He inhaled deeply. "Ready?" His voice wasn't quite as steady as he would have liked.
Kensi nodded and her fingers tightened around his arm. "I'm ready."
"Let's go get you married then."
One Hand; One Heart had never sounded more majestic nor more perfect for a wedding. Nico had worked feverishly on her arrangement and as she played, she poured her soul into every single note. They started the long, slow walk up towards the altar, and as they slowly processed, every head turned to watch. But the only person Kensi had any eyes for was standing stock still and staring resolutely to the front, where Father John stood, clad in white robes and surplice of gold, holding up his hands in a welcoming gesture.
"You're allowed to look, Mikey," Jack said in a stage whisper. His son looked completely terrified, like some rabbit caught in the glare of oncoming headlights.
Marty turned around slowly, like a man in a daze and finally saw Kensi, walking slowly up to meet him, with a cloud of white floating around her dark hair and wearing this magical, incredible dress that seemed to shimmer in the candlelight. But all that paled into nothing when he looked into her eyes. A slow smile of pure, unadulterated delight spread across his face.
"You look beautiful," he mouthed. "So incredibly beautiful," and Kensi flashed an equally brilliant smile back.
Make of our hands, one hand.
Make of our hearts, one heart.
Make of our vows, one last vow
Only death will part us now.
Sitting in the front pew with Joe, Caroline and Rowena, Hetty thought that her heart would burst with love and pride. There was Kensi, wearing a dress made from the silk of her beloved Maryanne's own wedding gown and smiling and looking as if she had stepped straight out of a picture book. And there was Maryanne's son, her great-nephew Marty, looking at Kensi walking towards him as if he couldn't believe his luck; as if someone had given him the moon and the stars to play with. It was getting rather hard to focus, she realised, for her eyes had grown unaccountably misty.
"They make a lovely couple, don't they?" Rowena pressed a handkerchief into Hetty's hand. "I knew you would cry. You are such a hopeless romantic." Not that she wasn't moved herself.
"Don't you dare tell anyone." She dabbed at her eyes discretely. "I have a reputation to try to keep intact."
"Your secret's safe with me." More years ago than either of them cared to remember, Rowena and Hetty had joined forces with a few other trusted friends to form a loose, informal alliance they called the Catena. There were very few members left, but they considered themselves still bound by the ties that had brought them together. And now, Rowena mused, she and Hetty were further tied together by Marty. Life really was terribly strange at times, the way the various strands interwove with one another.
Just a few steps more, Kensi thought, and I'm almost there.
The music was soaring all around them now as Nico played her heart out, and the sun that poured in through the stained glass windows cast hues of that encompassed all the colours of the rainbows and beamed them down onto the delicate silk of her dress.
"Hey there, princess." Marty looked strangely unfamiliar in his immaculate suit, with his hair much shorter than she could ever remember seeing it before, even after the fire in Scotland that had singed it. There were so many things Kensi wanted to say, only the priest was holding up his hands in a welcoming gesture.
Make of our lives, one life.
Day after day, one life.
Now it begins, now we start.
One hand, one heart.
"Dearly beloved," Father John began, in the time honoured tradition, and the words rang a chord in Kensi's heart. That's who you are to me: my dearly beloved.
And then Gibbs was taking her hand and placing it in Father John's, who then took Marty's hand and laid it on top of hers, before wrapping his stole around them both, and this was it, Kensi realised. She was actually getting married. And it was the easiest thing in the world to promise to love him forever and ever, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse, world without end, amen. Because her world was Marty and her world would be nothing without him. It was that simple.
"Don't you dare cry," Gibbs said in an undertone to Allison, having returned to sit beside her in the pew, his duties now at an end.
"I'm not crying." It was pure coincidence that her hankie was a sodden mass.
"You could have fooled me." The handkerchief he handed to her was nothing like the delicate one Rowena had given to Hetty earlier on. This one was reassuringly large and masculine, and had a comforting aroma of cedar wood. It was a strong, practical piece of material, with no pretence to outward style, being all about function and therefore perfectly suited to its owner. Allison scrunched it up in her fingers, musing upon the attraction of reliability, where once she had sought unpredictability and then looked at the radiant expression on her daughter's face and prayed that everything would be wonderful in Kensi's life. She sat back and listened as Jack gave the first reading.
He reads well, she thought, enjoying the measured, sincere tones, that made new sense of the old, familiar words. Allison found she was listening to St. Paul's words as if for the first time.
"…and now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity." Jack shut the Bible and returned gratefully to his seat. It had been a long time since he had been in the spotlight like this and he wasn't entirely sure he liked all the attention.
A few rows back, Tony snuck a look at Ziva, who was watching everything intently, as if she was seeing all this for the first time. Which she possibly was, for all he knew. What he took for granted as being an integral part of his life was alien to her, and vice versa. What he knew about Jewish weddings could be written on the back of a postage stamp, after all. There was so much they still didn't know about each other. "Reckon you could see us doing this one day?" he ventured.
"No." It was an uncharacteristically short response, even by Ziva's standards, and Tony sank back into the pew, feeling like a burst balloon.
Nicely done, DiNozzo. That's you told then. Is it possible to get jilted when it's not even your own wedding?
Ziva's hand squeezed his knee. "Tony, of course I can't see you and me up there instead of Kensi and Deeks. Because this is a Catholic church and I'm Jewish. So we'd have to get married before a judge. If we got married at all. You'd have to ask me first." Her hand crept up inside his thigh.
Never, not in a million years, would Tony begin to understand women. But he was going to have great fun trying to work it all out. And in the meantime, he could live in a state of happy confusion. Very happy indeed, especially given where Ziva's hand now was.
Crosby shifted his weight from one foot to the other and wondered when this whole boring wedding would be over. He really didn't see why everyone made such a fuss about weddings, and had even made him get dressed up in this stupid suit and tie. And as for being ring bearer, it wasn't even as if they were the real rings, because Marty's dad had those. So what's the point in all this standing around? And when's it ever going to end?
The priest was talking again, and Crosby thought that for an old guy, he sure had a lot to say. Being that old, you would have thought that he'd said just about all he could possibly have to say a long time ago. But no, there he was telling everybody to pray again, so Crosby reckoned he'd better play along and bow his head. He'd pray alright: he'd pray that it was going to be over and he could get those hot dogs his Dad had promised him would be served at the reception, which turned out to be a fancy word for eating dinner in a tent. And why was Marty having a tent anyway, when he had a huge house? It seemed that grown-ups went completely mad when it came to weddings, even the really cool ones like Marty. Well, Crosby wasn't about to make that mistake, no sir. He was never getting married. He didn't even like girls, so that wasn't going to be a problem. Except for his Mom. She was alright. Crosby turned around and flashed her a grin.
"Doesn't Crosby look smart? And he's behaving so well." Denise had been dreading that Crosby would pull one of his stunts and somehow wreck the whole occasion.
"Don't speak too soon," Sam begged her. He'd had to promise Crosby a new bike in order to get him on his best behaviour. And he was still none to sanguine about how long the good behaviour would last.
"He's a good boy," Denise countered, with the complete blindness only a doting mother could produce. Besides which, she'd promised Crosby that they could go to the pound and see if there was a dog that might want to come home with them. If that didn't get him on his best behaviour, then nothing would. And if Sam didn't like it, tough.
They stood to sing the 23rd psalm, and a boy soprano provided the descant, his pure, clear voice soaring effortlessly above the congregation in the final verse.
Goodness and mercy all my life
Shall surely follow me
And in God's house forever more
My dwelling place shall be.
Crosby was making absolutely no pretence of even attempting to sing. He patted his jacket pocket carefully, making sure his gift was still there. His Mom had wanted him to give Kensi a silver horseshoe, but that was just dumb. He was pretty sure Kensi didn't ride, so what would she want with a horseshoe? No, his own gift was much better. And he knew Marty would love it.
Next to Sam and Denise, Eric and George were remembering their own wedding day, which had been much smaller and considerably less formal, but just as wonderful.
"No regrets?" It was the first time they'd appeared together as a couple at a formal affair, and George knew that Eric was still slightly apprehensive.
"None at all." And Eric wasn't just referring to their presence at this wedding. "Not a single regret, not for one minute." When you found that one, special person, life took on a whole new meaning.
"And I have given them the glory you gave me,
so that they may be one, as we are one,
I in them and you in me,
that they may be brought to perfection as one,
that the world may know that you sent me,
and that you loved them even as you loved me."
There was something about a wedding, Nell thought, listening to the gospel reading, something that brought out the best in people. It was as if happiness was contagious. Everything today was going flawlessly, without a single hitch. It was possibly the most wonderful wedding she'd ever been to. Now, if only she could meet some cute guy at the reception, then everything would be just perfect. Only what were the chances of that? This wasn't Four Weddings and A Funeral after all. Not that she was any Andy McDowell, and Hugh Grant wasn't really her type either. So it looked like she'd be stuck dancing with her work mates, all of whom were already spoken for. Or with Crosby, who was at least a foot shorter than her. Great. that would be a night to remember then.
Nell was almost certain that Kensi was going to toss the bouquet in her direction, only what was the point in that? How on earth could Nell be the next one to get married when she didn't even have a date to bring to the wedding? How many more times was she going to have to stand and watch some other girl get married to the man of her dreams and then go home alone to an empty bed?
"May her husband put his trust in her
and recognize that she is his equal
and the heir with him to the life of grace.
May he always honor her and love her
as Christ loves his bride, the Church."
Caroline smiled as she listened to the final blessing, and wondered if the good Father had chosen it especially. It did seem particularly apt for her boy. The life of grace – now, wasn't that a beautiful concept? What a pity one could not attain such a state in this life. The church might very well refer to it as 'this transitory life', but it could seem very long indeed when you were living through turmoil and chaos. But, in the end, everything had worked out just fine, and Marty had Kensi and he was happy. And that was all that mattered.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife," Father John announced, breaking into her thoughts. "Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder." He then leant closer and whispered, "You can kiss your wife now, Marty."
Hetty, Caroline and Allison all brought their handkerchiefs up to their eyes in perfect unison as they watched the bridal couple standing facing one another. And as Marty reached out to lift the veil gently back, the congregation seemed to hold its collective breath. It wasn't the longest kiss they had ever exchanged, nor was it the deepest, but it was very possibly the sweetest.
Nico waited until they parted and then, before anybody had any smart ideas about ruining the romance of the occasion by doing anything so crass as clapping, she crashed into the thundering beginning of Clark's Trumpet Voluntary and the mighty organ filled the entire church with joyous, triumphant sound as Mr and Mrs Martin Deeks walked back down the aisle, hand in hand, joined together for all eternity and with smiles of pure joy on their faces.
Make of our hands, one hand.
Make of our hearts, one heart.
Make of our vows, one last vow
Only death will part us now.
Make of our lives, one life.
Day after day, one life.
Now it begins, now we start.
One hand, one heart.
Slushy plot bunny's eyes are crossed-that's how happy he is.
Randy plot bunny is mildly excited that Ziva and Tony managed a little hanky panky.
Evil plot bunny is wondering what Crosby has in his pocket.
And me? I just hope the wedding lived up to your expectations.
One Hand, One Heart lyrics written by Stephen Sondheim