This story has been fun to write, it gives me a break but keeps me wanting to write. I know it's not everyone's cup of tea but I rather like them dealing with all of the hard issues that came up between S2-S4 that the writers just swept under the rug. Diane was a major issue, we hear about her ONCE and then not again until Harm decides to go after her killer.

Same with Mac and her sudden husband. I have this very hard belief that his feelings for her took a nose dive when Harm discovered she kept that secret from him - especially her involvement with Farrow that he suspected since season 2. Really would have loved to see them talk about it on the show and I HATE that it just gets brought up as a way to punch Mac's character more. Even hate it more that Harm uses it against her a time or two. Ugh, our sweet morons.

So did Harm shoot Holbarth? Did Mac manage to stop him?

Chapter 18

Click.

The barely audible sound of metal striking brass shakes me to my core. I pulled the trigger. I expected a loud bang that would leave me partially deaf for a time. I expected blood to spread across Holbarth's chest as his body crumbled to the ground. But, after I took my shot there was nothing but an eerie silence. That stillness lasted for just a few seconds, the adrenaline running in my veins made it feel like so much longer, a kind of slow motion that was interrupted by the rapid tapping of heels on wet pavement and Mac's voice pleading for me to stop.

I blinked a few times and focused on the odd scene before me. Holbarth was already white as a sheet but his pallor turns almost cadaverous and he stumbles backwards and his eyes grow wide as saucers. "Schonke! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

He turns and runs in a dead sprint, racing for the ship and I feel my arm moving to aim at his retreating form. I'm close to pulling the trigger once again but the unthinkable happens once he reaches the gangplank. The old girl lurches, the mass of bolts and steel break free from its moorings and with a glutorral scream I see Holbarth's footing slip, his body hurling straight into the water. The cries for help are silenced by a thunderous crack as the ship slams back into the dock crushing the bastard.

My arm is still raised, still aiming until a delicate hand wraps around my wrist and pulls the pistol from my grasp. There's yelling and commotion, a man runs past me asking for help as the slew of sailors come out of nowhere to rescue Holbarth. "It won't do them any good. He was crushed between the hull and the dock." Mac says and her soft voice makes me turn slowly towards her.

I feel a sense of regret that I couldn't end his life and by the same token, I believe someone saved mine by stopping that gun from firing. "Holbarth said Diane's name…" Oh God.

Stunned, I stare at her, the fog swirling around us makes the woman standing in front of me look ethereal, like some otherworldly force brought her down to me one last time. She's in summer whites, the uniform I last saw her in when we said goodbye so many years ago. It was the one that was matted in crimson from a gun wound to the chest that stole her life way too soon.

She isn't real. She can't be real but even as I reach out to touch the lapels of her blouse, Diane speaks to me. "It's Harriets. I was soaked, Bud gave me this to wear."

"You're a ghost."

"You pulled the trigger. Why would you destroy your life like that? Why?"

It isn't Diane's voice, not her hair or her eyes and her accusatory tone makes me feel ashamed, so damned ashamed. Even so, the rush in my veins amplifies and without rationalizing my actions, I lean in towards her. Her eyes widen but her gaze falls on my lips and before long, I'm kissing her. I'm kissing her deeply despite her hesitation or the hands that push on my chest that forces me to stop. It's short and bittersweet, devoid of the passion that usually engulfs us whenever we touch. I know I'm kissing Mac, her wonderful lips taste much sweeter than Diane's but it's like I'm kissing two women at once.

My lips take hers once again, demanding more and once we break apart her eyes are half lidded and hazy. A serene expression softens her gaze of wonderment that then turns so incredibly sad. "I know. You were kissing her."

…..

"We need to talk." I say when Mac brings the Corvette to a stop in front of my apartment building. She still has on the Navy whites but they are covered by my jacket that I had draped over her shoulders while we stood at the yard. It was a coincidence that security hadn't noticed the weapon I carried or the interaction between me and Holbarth - his fall would be determined to be a freak accident and I was gone by the time NCIS came around to investigate.

During the long ride we were both uncomfortably silent. Mac never once looked my way, not once, always keeping her attention solely on the road. It reminded me of our first car ride together through Red Rock Mesa with her at the wheel and me trying to decipher the woman that sat next to me. She's isn't Diane, that much is true because the differences are like night and day.

I wasn't in love with Diane. I wasn't in love with Diane which is why I still can't make sense of this need to avenge her death. I'm not in love with Diane.

I am in love with Mac. So damned in love with her and now fear my actions tonight will put to death the sweet existence we lived in for a time. I betrayed her, hurt her and the wordless tension radiating off of her each time I turned to study her expression scares me. What have I done? "Mac. We need to talk."

"About what?" She pretends to be aloof but her knuckles are gripping the steering wheel with such a steely force her knuckles have grown white. "You claim to love me. This isn't love."

"I'm sorry."

Mac snorts and even I cringe at how positively lame the apology sounded and when she does turn my way, her eyes are bloodshot, filled with tears she's adamant not to let fall. Christ, I didn't even know she was crying this whole time. "Sorry?"

"Yes, I'm sorry."

She sighs. "I'm not perfect. I've made my own stupid mistakes including what happened to Chris. But, I thought… I don't know what I thought."

"Sarah." My hand reaches for her, fingers nearly touching her wrist until she pulls away from me and is halfway out of the car. "I'm sorry."

"An apology isn't gonna cut it this time. I can't do this anymore."

Her voice cuts me like a knife and as I scramble to get out of my car, Mac has already rushed to hers and has slipped inside. "Sarah, wait." I press a hand against the wet glass and bang my fist against it but she doesn't even look at me, just puts the car in drive and speeds away taking my heart with her in the process.