A/N OK, maybe getting a bit carried away with this bit as we're on to part 3. But it's still on the same theme, and I don't want to give away what happens next… and Mulcahy is about to make the Ultimate Sacrifice. Read on to see what it is.

Ultimate Sacrifice (Part 3)

Mulcahy knew what would happen next, his training as a soldier told him exactly what was coming. But it didn't stop him. He looked at Sally, and took another step towards her.

"You come further, I shoot!" screamed the soldier.

Never taking his gaze from Sally's face, Mulcahy stepped forward again.

And the Korean pulled the trigger.

Mulcahy was inches away when the Korean pulled the trigger and emptied his gun into Mulcahy's chest. Or at least tried to.

As the trigger was depressed, Mulcahy closed his eyes. And nothing happened. Instead of a bang followed by searing hot pain, there was a click followed by silence. Mulcahy opened his eyes and saw the soldier staring in shock at his revolver. It took the priest a second to react, but when he did it was swift – and totally unexpected to the soldier. He pulled his fist back and hit the Korean square on the jaw, knocking him clean out. As he fell to the ground, his grip on Sally loosened, and Mulcahy caught her as she swayed gently before easing her onto the ground. Her head was still bleeding, but her eyes focused on Mulcahy's face and she smiled up at him.

"My hero," she whispered.

"I'll be back in a minute," he replied, brushing her cheek with his hand. Grabbing his hat, he went over to the door and unlocked it before gingerly pulling it open. He found twelve rifles trained on his head.

"It's OK, I'm American. I'm Captain Mulcahy, one of the hostages. You can, um, come and get him now."

"Step outside the hut and kneel down, keeping your arms up!" shouted the Sergeant in charge.

Mulcahy complied and found himself being searched all over before finally being allowed to speak.

"There's an injured man in there who needs medical treatment. And the man who took us captive is unconscious on the floor," he explained quickly as they pushed past him and entered the hut. Mulcahy wasn't far behind them.

He knelt on the floor beside Sally as the MPs collected the two unconscious Koreans and carried them from the hut. Sally had come round from her near-knockout and was watching as the Sergeant gathered up some things from the hut. He lifted the gun with which their captor had almost ended Mulcahy's life, and the priest shuddered at the memory. He couldn't believe how close he had come, and for what? With hindsight, it would have done neither of them any good. In fact, had the gun not misfired, his little display of heroics would probably have resulted in both of them being shot. But the thought of leaving her there with that man filled him with such horror. He couldn't just walk away and abandon her to her fate. He couldn't even place his trust in God to save her. There was a reason for that, but it was one which he'd been avoiding thinking about. What he felt for Sally went beyond friendly concern, or even a deep platonic relationship. He was attracted to her in a way which no one at seminary school had prepared him for. He had been forced to make his own arrangements, and had resorted to drawing an imaginary line in his head as to which was the correct point to stop. But the more he thought about the points at which to stop, the more he began to fantasise about them. These feelings were taking over his waking hours too now, and they had driven him to Seoul the day before to carry out an errand solely to make Sally smile. Oh, how he loved to see her smile.

Sally had noticed the Sergeant picking up the gun too, and called out to him.

"Sergeant, that's my gun. The Korean gentleman's firearm is in my medical bag. Can you swap them back again please?"

The Sergeant snapped the chamber out of the gun in his hand, and compared it with the one which he was fishing from the large leather bag in the corner. His eyebrows shot up and he chuckled.

"Well, that was one smart move, Captain. He had three bullets left in here – more than enough to see you both off. You did well switching it," he said, as he replaced Sally's gun in its rightful place. He went to the door. "I'll leave a driver outside for you, come out when you're ready and we'll get you back to your camp. We've radioed them and told them you're on your way."

Sally nodded as the Sergeant left the hut, and turned to Mulcahy. She was about to tell him how glad she was to be going back to camp, but stopped when she saw the shocked expression on his now pale face.

"John? Johnny, are you OK?" she pulled herself round onto her knees and faced him. "What's the matter, you look as though you've seen a ghost. Talk to me."

Mulcahy forced his eyes to focus on the young woman in front of him. His head was swimming. "The gun," he murmured, "It wasn't loaded. I though it… I thought… he would… shoot. Oh God."

He buried his face in his hands as the full enormity of what he'd just told her sank into Sally's mind. He hadn't seen her switch the guns. He really thought that the gun had been loaded, and that meant that he had stepped towards her with every intention of taking a bullet rather than leave her behind. She tried to recall how he looked as he took that last step, the steely determination on his gentle face and the tenderness of his eyes as he looked at her. She scrambled over to his bag and began fishing about inside to find his water bottle, or a hip flask - anything to administer some comfort to her shattered friend who was shaking with shock in front of her. She found a bottle and twisted it open, putting it to his lips and helping it down.

"Shhh, try this," she soothed, "It will make you feel better. I promise."

Mulcahy drank the liquid and the colour began to return to his cheeks. He smiled wanly at her concerned face.

"I'm not such a hero now, am I?" he said with a hollow laugh.

"You're even more of a hero," she replied, "I thought you'd seen me switch the gun for mine. I didn't realise you were ready to take a bullet for me."

"I'd do anything for you, Sally," he said.

Their eyes locked, and for a moment Sally felt as though she couldn't breathe properly. It felt as though her heart had inflated to twice its normal size in her chest. Those pale blue eyes staring back at her, mirroring her emotions. She couldn't be imagining it, he felt the same way. She fought hard, before they both did something they would regret, and broke away, rummaging in the bag again as a distraction. Unfortunately, it only made things worse.

"What's this?" she asked, pulling a brown paper package and showing it to Mulcahy.

"Ah," he sighed softly. "That's my contribution to the Secret Santa."

"Oh, can I see? I promise I won't tell anyone."

Mulcahy nodded, smiling, and Sally began carefully unwrapping the paper from the parcel and folding it back onto the ground. When she saw what was inside, her jaw dropped. She lifted from the brown wrappings a beautiful silk dress in a gorgeous colour of emerald green. She stared in wonder at the garment, holding it against herself and marvelling at the beauty of the sheer fabric.

"Who is it for?" she gasped, feeling pangs of jealousy at the person who would receive this from him and not even be aware of it.

"Actually," he said, "It's for you. I had it made especially for you in Seoul. I managed to borrow another of your dresses and Klinger helped me with your measurements… and well, here is the fruit of our labours. Happy Christmas, Sally."

Sally's dark eyes were shining with tears as she sank to her knees before him once again. She was stunned by the gesture, and stunned by her reaction.

"I couldn't get anything for you. The present I wanted, I thought it wasn't suitable. But… John, it's beautiful."

His reply came before he had time to think about it. It was spontaneous, because it was the truth as far as he was concerned.

"You're beautiful."

She looked up again, and once more their eyes locked. The feeling was even more intense, and Sally could resist no longer. She reached out a hand and softly ran it down his cheek. His face was rough after a night's sleep, and his hair still ruffled. He looked so handsome. Mulcahy stretched up his hand, and wound his fingers into hers. And then they were kissing. Sally leaned in towards him, and their lips met in a gentle flutter, which became firmer and stronger as they got closer and closer. Sally wrapped her hands around Mulcahy's neck, and felt his strong grip on her waist. They both felt an enormous rush of energy, as their minds, bodies, hearts and souls finally combined to complete the puzzle which they had been struggling with for months. Mulcahy was completely lost in the feeling of being so close to her, her taste, her touch, her smell. All thoughts he had been avoiding suddenly made flesh. His falling was so complete that it was Sally who came to her senses first, pulling away from him with a start.

"What am I doing?" she asked herself, twisting her fingers round as though she might pull them off, "Whatever possessed me to… John, I'm sorry. I went too far, I shouldn't have... I'm sorry, we have to get back."

Sally stood swiftly and walked out of the hut, leaving a shocked Mulcahy kneeling on the floor. He realised with a jolt what they had just done. He had crossed the line. The line which he himself had visualised in preparation for this moment. He had tried to prepare himself for this eventuality, and had found himself wanting. Goodness knows what God was thinking now. He felt sick at the thought of facing up to the sin which he had just committed, and knew that he had a long journey ahead on which he would have ample time to reflect upon his actions, and what his next step would be. But even as Father Mulcahy's mortal soul tied itself in knots seeking absolution for this heinous act, John Mulcahy's human heart was hurling itself about in his ribcage at the memory of Sally's lips against his.