"And it's something quite peculiar,
Something that's shimmering and white.
Leads you here despite your destination,
Under the milky way tonight…" The Church

She had a hell of a voice. That was the first thing Mac Taylor noticed about Sarah O'Neill, or at least that's what he told her. The first thing he really noticed about her was her long legs and curves that were real, not surgically enhanced. After a moment or two, he noticed that she had full curly black hair and big brown eyes. It only took him another week to discover her easy laugh and dry sense of humor.

She'd walked into Cozy's shortly after the New Year, sitting through the first two sets of open jam night before nervously asking if she could sing during the next set. Tico, who'd pretty much been running the show for years, nodded, asked her what she wanted to sing and let her lead off the next set.

It took her a few moments to relax and come into her own, but halfway through Bonnie Raitt's "I Can't Make You Love Me", her rich alto voice came through. She blushed brightly when she drew a strong round of applause. Since then, she'd pretty much been a fixture on Wednesday nights, singing, or playing piano when Rudy took a break or couldn't make it.

They'd struck up an easy friendship between sets, part respect, part teasing, it just flowed. She was open, honest and really easy to talk to, something he discovered early on in their friendship.

He'd learned that she was a widow with two children, both of whom were away at college. Her husband, Danny, had been a stock broker, who joined the Air National Guard after 9/11. He'd been killed in a helicopter crash over Afghanistan in 2003. Mac was touched by the way her eyes filled with tears when she talked about it.

He was even more touched by the way her eyes filled with tears when he told her about Claire later that same night. He'd always felt strange telling people that he was a widower, always felt uncomfortable talking about Claire's death, but not this time. Sarah seemed to understand.

Sure, he'd noticed that she was attractive right away, but he never thought anything would ever come out of the flirting and double entendres. He was seeing Peyton and he wouldn't dream of jeopardizing that relationship. So they stuck to talking between sets and occasionally staying for a beer after they were done.

His relationship with Peyton ended when she decided to remain in England. For a while, he tried to make himself believe she'd be back. Until of course, he got her letter. Looking back, he'd known in his gut that things were over but was waiting for her to admit it. Once she had, he moved on with his life, or tried to, at least. He didn't go out much, except for Wednesday nights.

He found himself looking forward to Wednesday not just for the relaxation that playing in the band provided him, but also, to spend time with Sarah. Their chats between sets turned into deeper conversation and some nights, after stepping off the stage, they would sit at the bar and talk until the house lights came up.

He couldn't deny that his attraction for her grew more with each passing week. But still, neither of them made a move towards anything romantic. Truthfully, he was afraid to ruin what they had. So, they kept things restricted to Wednesday nights.

Until, one Friday night, about a month after Peyton's letter arrived. It had been an insanely busy week. Unable to unwind, he found himself restlessly pacing the length of his apartment at 8 o'clock. He decided to stop by Cozy's and see what was going on, as there was usually a decent band playing on Friday nights.

That week's band seemed to play only songs from the 90's. They were fairly decent musicians, but their choice of music was not really of his taste. As he finished his first beer and debated whether or not to stay for another, he was pleasantly surprised to find Sarah walking in the door. Spotting him, she walked over with a broad smile on her face. She joined him at the bar and there they remained for the rest of the night.

Well, not quite the rest of the night. The clock behind the bar read midnight when he kissed her the first time, or at least that's what she told him. He wasn't paying attention to the clock as they slow danced to a decent rendition of "Under the Milky Way" by The Church. She loved the song, he could barely recall it.

But then again, he wasn't really paying attention to the band, either. The only thing he could concentrate on was how good it felt to hold her in his arms, how much he loved the smell of her perfume, and how he knew that if he didn't kiss her at that moment, he never would.

So he took the chance and, forcing back the thought that he may be overstepping the boundaries of their friendship, he gave her a kiss. When she returned the kiss, he ceased caring about the boundaries, the time, or anything beyond the brunette he held in his arms.

They broke it off and pulled back slightly. Even in the dim light of the dance floor, he could see the color rise in her cheeks and the sparkle in her dark brown eyes. With a nervous smile, she admitted that she'd wanted him to kiss her for a long time. He told her that had he known this, he would have kissed her sooner. This apparently tickled her and she kissed him again.

The song had stopped playing, but they remained on the dance floor, still wrapped in each other's arms, still held in the romantic glow of a first kiss. He couldn't recall what song the band played next, but it was faster, not a song to slow dance to, and he suggested they return to the bar. To his surprise, she suggested they go "somewhere less public", as she would really like to continue what they started on the dance floor. After settling their bar tab, he walked her outside and hailed a cab.

As the cab crawled through the city to her Gramercy Park apartment, they sat close, his arm around her shoulder, sharing an occasional smile or soft kiss. He could feel the heat of her body through their clothes and wanted like hell to feel that warm body against his, but he held fast, keeping himself in check.

Sarah O'Neill was not just a pick up lay. Despite the myth of celibacy that the NYPD rumor mill seemed to embrace almost as dearly as they embraced the rumor of his pairing with Stella Bonasera, Mac Taylor was neither a monk nor Stella's lover. Since Claire's death, he had one serious relationship that ended badly and a scattered number of one night stands.

The one night stands served a single purpose – physical release. For all of his restraint and fortitude, sometimes, he just needed to "get laid". He didn't know what women saw in him. He'd always tried to keep himself in shape and he guessed it worked, because when he actually felt like picking up, he still could.

But, his mind repeated, Sarah O'Neill was not just a pick up lay and tonight, would not be a cab ride full of soft core porn, leading to some mindless, but mind blowing, sex when they got to her place. Sure, he wanted her body, but not to the exclusion of their friendship.

His mental ramblings were interrupted when they arrived at her apartment. He paid the cabbie than followed her into the brick building. She smiled at him as they walked into the elevator and reached out and took his hand, then pushed the "5" button.

As the door shut, he pulled her into his arms, "Are you sure you want me to come up?" he asked.

"Changing your mind?" she asked, eyes twinkling in a playful challenge.

He leaned in and kissed her, "Not for a moment."

"Good," she replied, "Because I don't usually invite guys back to my place…"

XXXXX

She'd excused herself into the kitchen to fetch them drinks, leaving him alone in her comfortable living room

Mac smiled, noticing the abundance of framed pictures through out the room. She'd previously shown him pictures of her children, Danny Jr and Madyson, so he recognized them instantly.

His attention was drawn to the tall, dark haired man who seemed to be in most of the older shots, then suddenly ceased to appear. This, he reasoned, must have been Sarah's husband. He scanned the older shots again and his suspicions were confirmed the shot of a Sarah looking beautiful in white wedding gown holding hands and gazing into the eyes of the dark haired man, who wore a black tux.

Through all of the shots, they appeared very happy and very much in love. Mac felt a familiar feeling of loss when he looked at the later shots. He knew the pain of losing a spouse and it saddened him to see visual proof that Sarah had experienced that pain as well.

"Okay," she said, walking into the living room, "I hope you don't mind Jamison's."

He turned to find her holding two tumblers full of amber liquid, "Jamison's is great, thanks." He took one of the tumblers from her outstretched hand, "I was checking out your pictures."

"I'm one of those people," she blushed, "Or at least I was. With the kids off at school, I'd only be taking pictures of myself."

"That might not be such a bad thing."

This drew a smile from her. "And just who would want pictures of me?"

Taking a sip of whiskey, he shrugged. "Somebody who only gets to see you one night a week."

As Sarah took a moment to digest his statement, he could see doubt warring with pleasure in her eyes. When she spoke, her tone was light, "Do you happen to know anybody like that?"

Reaching out with his free hand, he pulled her close. "As a matter of fact, I do," he said with a smile of his own.

"You'd want a picture of me?" Sarah blushed.

His honest words surprised them both. "I'd rather see you more often."

"You would?"

"Don't look so surprised."

"I guess I am surprised," she admitted, taking a sip of whiskey before she continued. "I expected a few things could come out of inviting you home tonight, but that wasn't one of them."

"And why not?"

She shrugged. "I thought you weren't interested in a relationship. That maybe it was too soon after…"

"So you thought I was just coming home with you…" he prompted.

"I wasn't really thinking. Once you held me in your arms, my thoughts were kinda derailed."

"Yours too, huh?" he softly laughed, setting his glass on the book shelf then taking hers and doing the same thing.

"And when you kissed me," she breathed, leaning close, her lips brushing his. "I could only think of you doing it again."

He captured her lips with his, holding her body close and losing himself in the sensations she stirred within him.

At some point, they'd made their way to the overstuffed sofa, although, he couldn't recall actually doing it. He'd already given into the taste of her lips, the feel of her soft skin and the sounds of her breathing.

His hands explored her very willing body, slipping beneath clothing, loosening and removing the pieces that were in the way until he had access to more and more of her. It wasn't until the chill of the room hit the naked skin of his chest that he realized she was just as busy with his clothing.

She leaned over him, her dark curls falling around them like a curtain and kissed him, then in a voice that was raw and sure, she said, "Let's move this back to the bedroom."

"Are you sure?" he asked, although the desire in her dark eyes told him she was very sure.

She nodded, "I've been sure since the first time you kissed me."

He knew he should say something, but nothing profound would come, so instead, he took her face in his hands, pulled her close and kissed her. He hoped the kiss would convey what his words could not.

"Come on," she smiled, standing up and holding out her hand, "Let's go to bed."