Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Wow. I think, based on the sheer quantity of your reviews, that I will be compelled to finish this. I have about 9 parts (closing in on 10) written, but am currently stuck - I don't know what it is, but I just stare at the screen and cannot write. Fingers crossed I get unstuck. Thanks for the feedback!

--

Fresh Start 2

"So." Ethan stated. It was one word, but it carried a wealth of meaning.

Mac sighed over her cappuccino. It was an absolutely gorgeous day, she was sitting on a terrace with a person whose company she truly enjoyed, with a really good cup of coffee in front of her. And she felt terrible. Guilty and anxious and confused.

"You want to talk about it?" He asked.

"Not particularly," Mac replied halfheartedly. She toyed with her spoon, tracing patterns in the foam on her drink.

"Which means you probably should," He pointed out with an encouraging smile.

Mac really didn't want to talk about this. She wanted to mope. But then, she supposed that if she'd wanted to mope she wouldn't be here, sitting across from Ethan. She'd be at home. Moping.

Mac sighed again. She supposed she should be candid with Ethan. She could feel the thin threads that had held her together this past year slowly unraveling. Where to start?

"We worked together for seven years." Good start. She continued, "We got really close, became really good friends. We share a godson..."

Ethan raised his eyebrows. "He's AJ's godfather?"

Mac nodded. "Yeah."

"What happened?"

"Things went ... sour." She shrugged, conscientiously stirring her drink. Fervently clamping down on her bubbling anxiety. She hadn't really spoken about this with anyone. It felt strange to do so. "We parted on pretty bad terms."

"How long did you date?"

She looked at Ethan in surprise. "What? No." She stumbled on her words. "I mean, we didn't."

"You didn't?" It was his turn to look surprised.

She shook her head.

"But, I mean, from the way you two behaved in there, I thought he was the guy you were trying to get over."

Mac stared at Ethan, her temper rising even though she knew it was silly to get angry; she had no reason to. It was after all, the truth.

"We might not have dated," She defended, "But he was still an important part of my life for seven years."

He searched her face for a moment. "He was that important to you?"

Mac nodded, studying him carefully. He didn't seem to be passing judgment, which was one of the things Mac really liked about Ethan. Probably the thing that had drawn her to him in the first place, that had led to their slow-blooming friendship. It had been such a refreshing thing to find in a person.

"Sarah?" Ethan gently nudged her from her thoughts.

"He really was." She answered his question more fully. Processing the thought even as she spoke it out loud. "He helped me through some hard times. We helped fight each other's demons. It was like..." She hesitated. "It was like losing family. It hurt." Ethan knew enough about her to know she would not use such words lightly.

He nodded, recognition warming his eyes. He reached forward and brushed her bangs off her forehead. It was a gesture she found comforting. "Why did you part on bad terms then? What happened?"

"It's a long story." She was being evasive, she knew. But dammit, she just wanted to crawl under her sheets and forget that she'd lost all the progress she'd made this last year.

"Sarah..." He took her hand in his.

Mac needed to get away from him. She needed space. He was being too patient and she was upset and angry and confused.

"I have to go." She tried to pull away, knowing even as she did that she was falling back into bad habits.

"Your appointment isn't for another half hour." He held on firmly to her hand. "Don't leave because this is hard to talk about."

"I don't want to talk about it." She said firmly, looking him in the eye and daring him to challenge her on this.

"I know. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't," He raised an eyebrow to underscore his point.

Mac huffed. He was definitely one of the most honest people she'd ever met. Right now, she was finding it annoying. Ethan, however, was grinning.

"You only make that sound when you know I'm right." He seemed very pleased with himself.

Mac had to smile.

"I'm also right in saying that you need to fix your friendship with Harm," He continued. "Because not doing so is making you miserable."

Mac's head snapped up. Wasn't that what she'd told Harm? iI'm making both of us miserable./i

And yet he hadn't looked much better at the gallery. He'd looked just as she'd felt. Mac sighed. She really had thought she'd been right in walking away from him, in leaving him to pursue a life unencumbered by the increasingly heavy expectations their relationship was piling onto his shoulders.

Now, after what he'd told her at the gallery, the way he'd looked at her, touched her ... she wasn't so sure anymore.

She searched Ethan's face, settling on his eyes. Her feelings for him were now confusing her too. He was sweet, and kind and she felt a pull towards him ... And yet it seemed Harm was the immovable force that eclipsed all others.

God, this was such a mess. She didn't know what to do about it.

Full disclosure, perhaps? She did feel safe with Ethan. Importantly, she had been telling herself that she was going to try and avoid all the mistakes she'd made with Harm and with the other men in her life. She wasn't going to repeat those with Ethan. The poor communication and the misunderstandings, holding back and not trusting herself to trust. It was the lesson she'd learned from the crucible of her last months with Harm, one she'd mulled over in the year since.

"Ethan," Mac took a deep breath and spoke through her discomfort. "The thing with Harm is that we, well, we never got involved because we kept ... missing."

He looked at her blankly. "Missing?" He shook his head. "I don't understand. Missing what?"

Mac cleared her throat. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I didn't grow up in a stable family, or have the most consistent role models. I didn't know much about all that, but when I transferred to JAG, I found something there. Good, solid friendships that filled a space in my life I didn't even know was there."

"Like Bud and Harriet," Ethan offered.

Mac nodded. "Yes, and Harm and even on a different level with my former CO, Admiral Chegwidden."

"You've never mentioned any admiral before."

"There was a falling out there, too, in my last year in DC."

"Sounds like a terrible year."

"It was," She agreed, slipping into silence as she roamed the wreckage of that last year. She didn't know where the admiral was. He'd retired. She'd sent him a card containing a bare bones message and her signature when she'd heard. It was all she could bear to do. She brought herself back to point. "But, the thing is, given what I was used to before JAG, I mistook the friendship Harm was giving me for something else. I mean," She swallowed heavily and avoided looking at Ethan, "We'd formed an incredibly deep connection, and I just didn't know what to make of it. It developed into an attraction on my part. So I mistook friendship for more than it was. I thought maybe he felt the same way, but there was always something going on in his life that ... complicated things. I finally realized that I was putting pressure on Harm to meet my expectations, which wasn't fair to him. And it wasn't sustainable either. It ruined everything." She took a deep breath. Okay. She'd been honest. She took another breath, and decided that being honest felt absolutely terrible. It was revealing and it just plain hurt. She chanced a look at Ethan.

"So, you had feelings for him?" He asked, his expression thoughtful as he looked at her.

She nodded.

"You still do?" He asked. He didn't seem particularly keen on getting an answer.

She could feel the two poles pulling her apart. She was getting over him; she would never get over him. How much was due to time? If they'd met again in five years instead of one, would she have felt a nostalgic fondness instead of regret and loss and longing?

"How do you forget seven years?" She shook her head slowly. "I don't know. I don't want to feel this way. I thought I was over him, I thought you and I..." She trailed off and looked at her hands.

He didn't say anything for a few long moments, instead he stared out towards the tree-lined streets.

"Do you still think your feelings were one-sided?"

"I don't know anymore. I thought I did, a year ago, when I left. But now..."

He nodded slowly, still looking towards the street.

Mac could feel him slipping away, and maybe that most of all about today's events, made her want to cry. But she wasn't about to do that.

"I have to get to my appointment," She said, standing up. She was reluctant to go, but he didn't try to stop her so she collected her purse. She wanted to ask if she'd see him again, if he'd call her, if she could call him. She sensed, however, that he just wanted to be by himself for a while.

"Ethan," She began, not wanting to end her day with him on this note.

"It's alright, Sarah. Just give me some time." He gave her a half-hearted smile. "I just need to think about this."

She nodded quickly, blinking back the stubborn moisture in her eyes. "Okay," Her voice trembled. "I'll see you."

Mac left the cafe, thankful she'd indulged herself with a long spa appointment today. It beat going back to her empty apartment armed only with disappointment.

--

That night...

Mac sat on her couch. The TV was on, but she wasn't really paying attention to that. Her thoughts were consumed in equal measure by Ethan and Harm. She didn't know if she wanted to see Harm again, but she did want to see Ethan again. She didn't know if she'd ever see either. At the very least, she would be avoiding one particular corner of La Jolla for a long time.

A knock sounded at her door, startling Mac. She made her way to the door and looked through the peephole.

It was Ethan.

Mac didn't know whether to be relieved or apprehensive. She steeled herself and opened the door.

"Ethan," She greeted, moving aside to let him in.

He entered her apartment.

"Sarah, I..." He hesitated, searching for words, "I shouldn't have been so aloof over coffee, when you told me what you did. I did push you to talk, and just because I didn't like what you said, well that doesn't give me the right to be an ass about it."

"No," She spoke quickly, relieved yet not wanting him to take the blame, "I mean, I understand, Ethan. I hadn't been forthcoming before, so this pretty much came out of left field for you."

"Stop making excuses for me," He warned, smiling despite himself.

Mac smiled, too. "Okay. I'll stop."

He took her hand in his and pulled her closer towards him. She went along.

"I am sorry," He said, when she was right in front of him. "I just," He shook his head in frustration. "It's just, I really like you, Sarah. A lot. But I don't know what to do. What do you want me to do? From what you've said about Harm, I don't think I can compete."

He looked really upset, and Mac didn't know what to do either. What did she want? Instead of saying anything, she put her arms out for a hug. He gladly wrapped her in an embrace, and she could feel his relief in his touch.

"I really like you too, Ethan." She whispered into his shoulder.

"But?" He tensed fractionally.

"Seeing ... him through me for a loop."

He was quiet for three hearbeats. "Where does that put us?"

"I don't know."

He let her go, and she felt his absence keenly. "Sarah, I care too much for you to ... I can't..." He sighed, his hand reaching behind him for the front door knob. "When you figure it out..."

"Ethan, no." She grabbed his sleeve. She heard the plea in her voice, and immediately hated herself for it. "Wait."

He stopped. "What do you want me to do, Sarah?" His hurt cut through her own recriminations.

She could understand his stance on this, but she didn't want him to disappear on her, to fade away from her life. "We're supposed to be friends..."

"We are," He assured her. "I am your friend. But the way I feel about you, I can't watch you get involved with someone else, I can't pretend that's okay with me."

"Ethan-"

"Sarah, I'm pretty sure I'm five-sixths of the way to being in love with you." His fingers brushed her bangs away from her forehead. "I can't just turn it off."

Her eyes brimmed.

"Hey," He said softly, "Don't cry." The tenderness in his voice made her tears overflow. She just wanted a good and simple life, that was all. Was that too much to ask for? Who knew if she'd ever see Harm again. She sure as hell didn't know if she even wanted to. She couldn't help how she felt for him, she thought she'd trained herself away from those feelings ... And now because of that, she was going to lose Ethan.

"I don't even know if I'll ever see Harm again," She said. "I don't know-"

"You'll figure it out. If you realize you're over him..." He looked at her, wearing a slight smile. "I'm sure I can find that remaining sixth somewhere in here," He tapped his chest, above his heart. He turned the doorknob to leave, but then changed his mind.

He turned around, stepped up to her, and cupped her face with his hands.

"Just once," He whispered, looking from her eyes to her mouth. "I've wanted to know what this feels like for the longest time."

He leaned in and kissed her. His lips were soft against hers, and felt so good. He deepened the kiss, and Mac fell into the emotions he was conjuring. She could feel his love, his longing, his loss.

"Sarah," He whispered her name as the kiss ended. She recovered enough to open her eyes and regain an awareness of her surroundings in time to see the front door shut behind Ethan's retreating form. On numb legs, Mac backed her way to her couch. She sat down, drawing her feet up and hugging her knees, and then she let her tears of confusion and frustration flow.

The next morning, in another part of town...

Harm, his mother and Frank sat down to eat for their weekly brunch. It was a tradition that had formed since Harm had moved back to the West coast eight months ago: every Sunday they'd share breakfast and often make an afternoon of it by going to the movies or playing a game of golf. Harm knew his mother absolutely loved their weekly get-togethers, and he'd come to enjoy them himself. His initial reluctance towards this shared time had less to do with the company, and more to do with the fact that he'd been ... down ever since that night a year ago. The night Mac had come to his place and told him she was leaving him because she thought he didn't care about her, saw her as an obligation, a debt to be paid.

It still disgusted him. He hated that she could think such a thing. That her conviction in this was so strong, it propelled her to move to the other side of the continent. The same end of the continent he'd eventually moved to because it was the sensible thing to do, given it was where his mother lived, and where he could start fresh far from the memories in DC, where he could run his flying school. It just made good sense. Weather, after all, was important for a flying school. So he'd moved eight months ago. Eight months in which he half prayed, half dreaded he would run into her. Where he looked for her on the sidewalks and the stores, hoping. Where he would guess at where she was, what she was doing.

After seeing her, however just one look, he wondered if he should have just walked into her office and talked to her. He could have cleared up her misunderstanding of his position much earlier, because when she looked at him in his mother's gallery, he'd seen the same hurt in her eyes that had been there that night in his apartment. Perhaps it was all wishful thinking, though. He kept playing the possible scenarios in his mind and in none of them could he picture himself actually going to see her, telling her ... the truth. He wasn't so far gone that he'd approach her on his knees, begging for understanding, for absolution. If she wanted to end things, then that was her choice and he couldn't do anything about it. He refused to.

But the look on her face, that hurt and those tears, her expression when he'd touched her ... he realized he was making excuses, hiding behind his pride. The truth of it was - and this was a difficult admission to make - he was afraid. He'd lost enough people in his life that he treasured those who were important to him. And yet he'd managed to lose one of the best friendships he had. He was afraid it had been lost forever, that he would see her again and her eyes would be empty of all their years together, the history they'd built, the significance they'd shared. He didn't think he could bear to see that, couldn't bear it if she'd moved on. So it was safer to immerse himself in starting up his company, in rebuilding his relationship with his parents, in settling into a new life.

But he only had to think of how she'd looked yesterday, all of that - his pragmatism, his plans, his whatever - was swept away in the currents that still flowed between them. It had filled his heart to see her, made him feel such an uncomplicated happiness, a simple joy, that he couldn't even make sense of it.

He was hooked. He needed to see her again, he needed to know what was going on between her and the Ethan fellow who apparently had built most of the furniture in his parents' house. The very chair he was sitting in, in fact. He knew, he could see that this would set him back a year on the movement he'd made in his life away from her. It would maybe even set him back into that terrible cycle of hurt, drag him back to the resentful, sullen space he'd made his home in their last months together, their last months apart, before she'd left him. Except all the times before, when she'd been involved with another man, he'd sat on the sidelines and jeered, or simply remained quiet. He couldn't do that this time, not after a year of missing her, of aching for her. He needed to know if he had a chance. Even a remote chance, a slight one. He needed to know this as much as he needed his next breath, and he knew he wouldn't be able to find peace of mind until this was resolved one way or another. He wouldn't find peace until he could make her see that he'd always valued her even if he hadn't been the greatest at showing it, or until he knew that it really was the end, that he'd really lost her. He needed to know because for all the movement he'd made this past year, it had been a terrible year, a precarious one.

More than anything, though, if he'd been the kind of person who wished on stars, he'd wish for the chance to love her. It had taken him the better part of the last year to reach this realization. Seeing her had simply forced it home. He wanted a chance with her. Just one. He would make her see everything he hadn't been able to make her see before.

Harm wondered if there serendipitous meeting was a sign, if he should see a hidden meaning behind it ... Fate. Harm forced his attention back to the conversation his mom and Frank were having at the breakfast table when he heard his mom mention Ethan's name.

"Frank," Trish was saying, "Could you arrange to send Ethan his first payment by courier tomorrow?"

"Of course-"

"I can deliver his cheque to him," Harm quickly interrupted, jumping at the chance.

Trish and Frank both looked at him in surprise.

"Don't trouble yourself, Harm, it's just a matter of dispatching a courier," Frank replied.

"It's not a problem, Frank. I can head over to his studio tomorrow afternoon. Besides, I'd like to see his workshop."

They didn't seem to think he was making much sense.

"I don't have anyone scheduled until tomorrow afternoon, and you guys know I'm renovating my place." Harm shrugged. "He might have decent advice on what I should do with the den. My last place didn't have a den..." He was rambling, which was a sure giveaway that he was dropping chaff, so Harm decided it might be better to shut up.

"Alright," Trish said slowly, exchanging a meaningful look with Frank. Harm refrained from rolling his eyes. Sometimes they still acted like he was a kid who couldn't read the by-plays in a conversation. He supposed his mother had told Frank about his reunion with Mac. God knows she'd tried hard to grill him during their lunch yesterday, but he wasn't about to open that wound with her. Her palliative would have come in the form of intrusive advice.

"Thanks, Harm." She said, looking mildly worried. "I'll have the cheque ready for you tomorrow morning." She hesitated, and then decided to go for broke, apparently, because her next words almost made Harm blush. "Just, well, be civil."

God knows what his mother thought of him.

"He really does make the best wood furniture on the West Coast," She continued with concern.

Harm shook his head, feeling just a tad bit resentful. Furniture. It's not like the chair he was sitting on was all that great. Whatever, he huffed internally. And he was definitely going to be civil with Ethan. He'd learned the hard way that Mac didn't quite appreciate it when he was a jerk about the men in her life. He had a new playbook, and he planned on following it.