Author's Note: Just in case anyone is getting worried that Major Harrington is nothing more than some male Mary Sue, I implore you to just be patient.  Let me assure you, this guy has got some major issues that will be made clear in later chapters.

Second Author's Note: Thank you to the reviewer who commented on Chegwidden's chummy nature towards Harrington.  I was getting to that, as you will see… but thanks for keeping me honest!

Third Author's Note (last one this chapter, PROMISE!): I know I said I'd wait about a week for this next segment, but as this story slips farther down the list, the less likely reviews are going to come… what is it about my writing that seems to scare away reviews?  Oh well…

Episode 3:

Improving Team Chemistry U.S. District Court, Norfolk, VA- 1440, August 27             "We find the defendant… not guilty." The jury chair stated.

            Harrington pumped his fist once, and shook hands with his client as his JAG co-workers made their way down to the courtroom floor.  "Congratulations, Major." Mac said knowingly, "I had a feeling you iced it."

            "The first win is often the most satisfying, Major." Harm added, "Savor this one, you probably won't get this sort of feeling again for a while."

            "Thank you, sir… ma'am."

            "Well done, Harrington." Singer added, "I think you showed a few people that you've got the goods."

            Mac then declared, "This calls for a celebration!  Have you ever heard of Beltway Burgers, Major?"

            Harm rolled his eyes as Harrington replied, "No… can't say I have."

            "Well then, now is as good of a reason to discover the best hamburgers in the state!" Mac declared with a gleam in her eyes, causing Harrington to wonder if this celebration was for his benefit… or for hers…

            Before Harrington could ask Singer, she seemed to read his mind, stating, "Unfortunately, I have some paperwork for cases of my own to finish, so I won't be joining you.  I will see you tomorrow morning."

            "Oh… well, how about we get together tomorrow evening then?" Harrington asked.  He didn't want to seem like he was abandoning his friend.

            "That sounds good, Major.  I'll see you then."

            As Singer turned to leave, Admiral Chegwidden spoke up, "Before you go out for a night on the town, Major, can I speak to you in private?"

            "Certainly, sir."

            As the pair moved into the now vacant Jury Room, Harm cringed.  Mac noticed her oft-partner's reaction, and said with an innocent smile, "Something wrong, Commander?"

            "Oh… just that I get a feeling I know what Steve's about to receive…"

Jury Room- 1445

            "What is it you needed to speak to me about, sir?" Harrington asked.

            "I just wanted to say that you remind me a lot of Commander Rabb when he started working under me, Major." The Admiral began, his back facing Harrington.

            Harrington smiled and replied, "I'll take that as a compliment, sir."

            Suddenly, Chegwidden whirled around, stopping 6 inches from Harrington's face, a furious expression pasted onto his features.  "Oh, is that so?" The Admiral began with a hiss, "Well, you shouldn't, Major Harrington.  Rabb was cocky, and didn't feel he had to play by the rules.  I came a fingernail's breadth away from canning his six several times.  You're fortunate that I know you a little bit, and that I've grown a little more understanding over the years.  However… if you keep pulling stunts like you did today, I will personally lick the stamps that mail you back to Seattle.  Do I make myself clear?"

            Harrington was stunned so rigid at the Admiral's outburst that a slight breeze might have knocked him over.  In a panic, he quickly squeaked, "Perfectly, sir." 

            Chegwidden drew back, and straightened his uniform.  "Good.  Now that the reprimand is out of the way, I want to talk to you about Lt. Singer."

            Still a bit rattled by the sudden changes in his commanding officer's mood, Harrington could only manage after several deep breaths, "What about her, sir?"

            "Colonel MacKenzie commented that you managed to make our Lieutenant friend act 'like a normal lawyer' in your settlement negotiations."

            "Oh, that was just a little friendly advice sir… I didn't do much more than that."

            Chegwidden waved off Harrington's modest assessment.  "Regardless, because of that, I think it would be best if you worked with Lt. Singer on a frequent basis.  Would that be a problem for you?"

            "Not at all." Harrington answered.

            "Good, because it wouldn't have mattered." Chegwidden retorted.  "Now, I suggest you don't keep Colonel MacKenzie and Commander Rabb waiting.  Despite my little tirade… you did a good job."

            "Thank you, sir." Harrington finished with a salute.

            "Dismissed, Major."

            Harrington strode back into the courtroom, where his co-workers waited, Harm with a knowing smile stretching from ear to ear.  "The Admiral read you the riot act, Major?"

            "He definitely locked onto my six, Commander, and gave me some less-than-friendly fire I won't forget too quickly."

            Through Harm's deep laugh, Mac led the way to their vehicles and the quickest way to her favorite lunch stop…

Gainsborough Court, Fairfax, VA- 1833, August 28

            Lt. Singer marveled at the array of dishes that Harrington had set out on the round mahogany dining table.  "For appetizers, we have Fettuccine Alfredo with chicken and broccoli florets, as well as a red wine Caesar's Salad." Harrington began, motioning with his arms like a fancy waiter.  "For the main course, we have Chicken Parmesan in a tomato sauce, and for desert, chocolate Tira Misu with hot fudge topping.  To drink, I have a promising white Chardonnay that was begging for me to buy it."

            "I get the feeling that you are going to spoil me for normal food by the end of the year." Singer commented ruefully.  Nonetheless, she took a small serving of each dish, and began to eat.  "Wow… you've actually gotten better." She said in amazement after swallowing a bite of the Chicken Parmesan.

            "Hey!" Harrington retorted, "I was good to begin with."

            Singer quickly corrected herself.  "I know.  You've actually gotten better."

            "Oh… well, thank you then." Harrington replied wryly, unconvinced.

            At that moment, Singer decided to address the large number of unopened moving boxes that lined the wall of Harrington's living room.  "Question… just when do you plan to move everything in?"

            Steve regarded the boxes wistfully, and replied.  "Hopefully never.  The minute I do, I'll no longer have any excuse to delay Lt. Sims's housewarming party."

            Singer smiled at the idea, and said, "That woman can be a handful at times."

            Harrington smirked, and replied, "Funny, I've heard the same thing said about you."

            "Oh, be quiet." Singer shot back playfully.

            The next several minutes were spent eating in silence, until Singer put her right hand under her chin in thought.  After swallowing, she commented, "You know, I get this feeling that the Admiral is going to have a big case for us tomorrow."

            "Really?  You think so?"

            "Yes.  Call it woman's intuition." Singer looked at Harrington appraisingly, and continued, "We're likely going to be paired together on it."

            "Assuming that there is a big case coming in tomorrow, you'd probably be right." Harrington agreed, taking another bite afterwards.

            Singer's eyes narrowed, and she accused, "You sound a little too certain of that, Steve…"

            Harrington waited for his throat to clear, and he admitted, "Admiral Chegwidden discussed that issue privately with me yesterday.  He explained to me that he was likely going to team us together quite frequently.  The implied meaning was rather clear."

            "Because I get along with you." Singer finished with a disgusted sigh.  "Does that bother you?"

            "No, not really.  I mean, eventually I'd like to work with the other officers, but I certainly have no complaints working with you."

            Singer smiled in relief.  "Thank you."

            "Hey, what are friends for, right?"

            "I mean… I just can't connect with any of my co-workers.  At times, it seems like they just don't take their duties seriously enough at times.  I've been bred to go after my goals through any means necessary.  And you've seen how unprofessional they can be…"

            Harrington nodded, "Yeah, that I have, but I don't doubt for one minute that they're all business come crunch time.  Besides, most of them have been working together for a long time, and probably are more familiar with each other than their own families.  Such close bonds are bound to lead to more amiable discourse than what would be considered normal."

            Harrington then pointed at Singer with his fork, and continued, "You, on the other hand, haven't been around nearly as long.  It's understandable that there's going to be some growing pains."

            "You seemed to fit right in quickly and easily enough." Singer reminded him.

            "Well... that's just the way I am.  They didn't call me 'The Chameleon' back at Dartmouth for nothing."

            Singer released a silent chuckle at the memory.  Harrington back at the university had possessed this uncanny ability to blend into any crowd, and just generally be able to be friends with anyone, including a career driven, goal-motivated young woman whose only desire was getting to the top as fast as she could…

            "You still in there?" Harrington asked with his typical smile that never seemed to go away.

            "Yeah, I'm here.  Just got caught travelling down memory lane." She answered with a soft exhale of breath, taking a few moments to take some of the Tira Misu into her mouth, savoring the almost sinful dessert.  "Can I ask you a personal question?"

            Harrington pursed his lips, and answered, "Shoot."

            "Don't tempt me." Singer smirked then grew serious again.   "I never got to asking you this when we attended classes together.  Just why did you decide that you were going to become my friend, especially when I had initially made it clear that I didn't want friends?"

            Harrington took a deep breath, and answered, "Because I saw a young lady with incredible potential in which the skies were the limit.  Yet she didn't realize the most important thing in life she was missing… other people.  I remember what it was like being lonely, and I guess I felt it to be my mission to solve that problem in other people."

            Singer was silent, not sure how to reply to that.  Fortunately, an awkward silence was averted by a knock at Harrington's door.

            "Be right back." He said, moving to the entryway.  Out of curiosity, Singer followed a distance behind.  Thus, she saw Harrington's visitors quite clearly.  They were none other than Colonel MacKenzie and Commander Rabb.

            "Hello, Steve." Harm said, "Just thought we'd stop by since we were in the area and see what the new guy was up to."

            "Actually… Harm, Mac, you've caught me at a bad time." Harrington replied sheepishly.  "Lt. Singer and I were having dinner…"

            "Actually, Steve, it is getting late, and I should probably head back home now." Singer replied from behind him, slinging her light jacket over her shoulders, and grabbing her purse.

            "Nonsense, Loren.  You don't have to go." Harrington answered soothingly.

            "Steve, I've compromised enough of your time already.  You should take some time for others too." Singer replied harshly, pushing her way past her co-workers, striding quickly down the hall to the elevators.

            "Loren…" Harrington called out, then turned to his two visitors.  "Can you wait inside for a minute?  I'll be right back."  With that, he took off at a jog after Lt. Singer.

            He caught up to her before she reached the elevator.  "Loren, what are you doing?" He asked, somewhat disapprovingly.

            "I've told you already.  It's getting late.  I should go." She pressed the call button for the elevator, and looked up at the floor display.

            Harrington smirked knowingly, and said, "You shouldn't run away from them."

            She whirled around to face him, and stated blandly, "I'm not running away from anyone.  Just because I must work with them for a minimum of 8 hours a day, does not mean I must be inclined to associate with them for the other 16."

            Her features eventually softened, "I appreciate what you're trying to do.  But just let me deal with my personal life my way, okay?  Now you need to get to your other guests."

            "Are you sure about this?" Harrington asked her.

            "Yes, I'm sure." Singer answered just as the doors opened.  Once she stepped inside, she waved farewell, and said, "I'll see you tomorrow morning."  The doors closed, and with a deep exhale, Harrington slowly returned to his apartment.

            He returned to find Colonel MacKenzie making herself quite at home, using his fork to take small bites out of the pan of Chicken Parmesan.  Harrington frowned slightly, and said, "Go ahead… dig in…"

            "I'm sorry." Mac said after swallowing.  "I couldn't help myself." As her fork hand hovered over the dish she asked, "Where did you get this from?  It's very good."

            "Go ahead, Mac." Harrington finally relented, his grin returning.  "There are plates in the cabinet just to the right of the dishwasher.  Eating utensils are in the drawer just underneath it."

            Grinning almost from ear to ear, Mac took a plate and another fork, using the serving spoon to take a large portion out of the pan.  Harrington asked as she was about to dig in, "Would you like some Chardonnay, madam?"

            Mac stopped, her fork hanging between the plate and her mouth, and Harm's expression turned serious.  "Did… I just say something wrong?" Harrington asked nervously.

            Mac licked her upper lip before replying softly, "I… don't drink, Steve."

            Harrington caught the hint from Mac's expression.  "Oh… right.  I wasn't thinking." He took the wine bottle, and placed it in the refrigerator, coming back out with a 2-quart plastic pitcher.  "How about some fresh squeezed lemonade?  Well… fresh squeezed this morning anyway…"

            Mac nodded appreciatively, "That sounds much better."

Harrington turned to Harm, and said, "Would you like some food as well, Harm?" Suddenly, he slapped himself on the forehead, and added, "Right… you're a vegetarian.  Well, never fear, I'll see what I can find."

            "I couldn't impose…" Harm began, but was interrupted.

            "No you don't." Harrington chided.  "My place, my rules.  You sit down, and I'll get you something.  In the meantime, you can try the salad if you want, the chicken slices are really more of a garnish that can be easily worked around."

            Harrington went through his cupboards, and eventually asked, "How do you feel about Spinach Lasagna?"

            Harm blinked, and replied, "Sure… if you have some."

            "Cheese or no cheese?"

            "Cheese is fine, but if that's all you have…"

            "With cheese it is then.  Fortunately I prepared some lasagna noodles yesterday, so it shouldn't take any more than 30 to 40 minutes.  Would that be all right?"

            "Sure…" Harm answered uncertainly.

            As Harrington laid out the base for the lasagna in a baking tin, and set out five tomatoes, an onion, three different types of pepper, mushrooms, a couple cloves of garlic, and a small pile of spinach leaves on the counter next to him, Mac finally made the connection.

            "You're going to make Spinach Lasagna from scratch?" She asked in disbelief, mouth half full of the Alfredo she had decided to sample.

            Harrington blinked twice, and dropped a large block of what appeared to be Parmesan cheese on the counter, "Of course."

            "Are you sure about that?"

            At that moment, Harrington smirked, and motioned to the table.  "You don't seem to have any problems with the Chicken Parmesan I made, Mac."

            Her eyes widened, and a small piece of fettuccini dropped out of her mouth.  "You made all this yourself?" Motioning to the dishes on the table.

            Harrington was in the process of pureeing the items for the sauce, and replied, "Indeed I did."

            Mac dove into the items with increased appreciation.  "Where did you learn how to do this?  This is unreal."  She said between mouthfuls.

            Harrington flushed, and answered, "Most of my electives during my education were in Culinary Arts.  Cooking is a bit of a hobby of mine, I suppose.  Granted, I don't get much time to practice on a lawyer's schedule, so I'm not really at top form."

            "Top enough form for 90% of the population, Steve.  This really is excellent."

            "I can tell you appreciate it.  That's your… fourth… serving…" He was obviously amazed by how much she had eaten.

            "Mac has a big stomach.  It's a mystery of nature." Harm explained.  Mac would have responded to that, but her mouth was full, so she settled for an indignant grunt.

            "I see." The young man replied, before turning his attention back to the task at hand.

            Mac reached in for a fifth serving of Chicken Parmesan, and well as another serving of Alfredo and salad.  "Umm… if I paid you 50 bucks, would you come and cook for me every night?" she asked.

            Harrington's reply from the kitchen was almost immediate.  "Umm… how about no?" He added a short laugh on the end to lighten the mood of the statement.

            "Never hurts to ask." Mac shot back defensively.

            Harm shook his head at Mac's assault on the dinner table and finally commented "Now I understand why you looked at Harriet oddly when she suggested several catering companies for your housewarming party."

            "Actually, the odd look was about the party in general." Harrington amended as he set down the second layer of noodles and sauce and vegetables.  Laying down one more layer of noodles, he topped with a little bit more sauce, as well as some sliced tomatoes, mushrooms, peppers, and crushed garlic.  Making sure the oven was preheated properly Harrington stuck the culinary work into the over, and set the timer.

            "Now… it's normally a no-no to use the timer.  A true gourmet artist maintains close vigil, and uses his senses to determine if something is done.  However, that generally makes the chef very poor company." Harrington explained as he sat down.

            Before the Air Force officer could continue, Mac had one more important question.

            "Can I take the rest of this home with me?"

JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, VA- 0901, August 29

            "I got a nice stack of new cases delivered to me this morning, so I hope all of you are well rested." Chegwidden said in challenge to his officers.  "Major Harrington, Lt. Singer, this one is for you."

            Singer took the folder, and was about to open it when the Admiral stated, "I want Major Harrington to take the lead in this one, Lieutenant."

            "Sir, I have the higher seniority." Lt. Singer reminded.  Colonel MacKenzie rolled her eyes, knowing where this one was going.

            "Let me assure you that I know that." Chegwidden replied in his chiding voice that almost sounded like a throaty hiss.  "But I want Major Harrington taking the lead in this case, understand?"

            "Yes, sir." Lt. Singer gritted out, snapping out her left hand with the folder towards Harrington. 

He slowly and gently took the folder, and said with as disarming of a smile as he possessed, "Thank you, Lieutenant."

            "This case will require you to travel to San Diego, California, so I won't give you anything else today.  Your flight leaves at 1300 hours from Dulles International."

            "Understood, sir." Harrington answered, his eyes lifting from the first page of the case file.

            "Dismissed." The admiral concluded.  Singer and Harrington saluted; then Harrington held the door for Singer to exit before he left the Admiral's office himself.

            Lt. Singer didn't look back once from the trip between the Admiral's office, and her own, obviously unhappy with her assignment. 

Lt. Sims seemed to key in on this, asking in way too sweet of a tone, "How did the meeting go, Lieutenant?"

She noticed Harrington enter her line of vision, as well as his disappointed shake of his head, indicating that she wasn't to continue.  Fortunately for both of them, Harriet took the hint, and didn't press any further.

            Once Singer reached her office, however, it was on.  Waiting for Harrington to close the door, she whirled around, dropping the thin masks holding back her anger.  "What is the meaning of this?"  She hissed, "The protocols clearly state that the officer with more seniority, regardless of rank, should take the lead in a case."

            "Perhaps, but that's more a custom rather than a rule." Harrington replied, his hands motioning for Singer to calm down.

            "Can't you see it, Steve?  The Admiral is just like the rest of them… he's trying to keep me back by any means possible!"

            "Actually, I think he's trying to see how well I do as the lead in a partnered case.  I didn't get many opportunities to do that in Seattle.  He's probably just scouting me."

            "Maybe so… but I doubt you'd think the same way if you were the one who got snubbed for the new guy."

            Harrington shook his head in disbelief.  "Come on, Loren, what does being lead really mean?  Oh, yippie, my name appears first on the trial transcript.  A good team works so smoothly that the lead is more a symbolic term than anything else."

            "Yeah… but…"

            Harrington's eyes narrowed in challenge, and he flashed a playful smirk, "Are you saying you can't handle the support position?  How are you going to prove yourself if you can't do what your ordered to do?"

            "Oh… you…" Singer hissed, "You just had to play to my competitive nature, didn't you?"

            "I know you, Lt. Singer, and I know exactly what it takes to get you to see reason."

            "Very well, Major Harrington.  We'll play your game… this time." Lauren accepted.

            Harrington's face grew apologetic, "Next time we work together, I'll try and make sure you get the lead, okay?"

            "Sounds fair." She concluded, somewhat satisfied.

            Harrington sighed in relief inaudibly.  Another potential crisis averted.  Somehow, he had to get Loren to see that not everybody in the office, especially Admiral Chegwidden, was out to ruin her or hold her back.  As a matter of fact, he was slowly getting the impression that the Admiral was doing exactly the opposite.  In Lt. Singer's defense, however, she had been raised to generally distrust people and their motives.  It had been hard for Loren to accept himself at first; much less a group of people that he was certain intimidated her on some subliminal level.

            He had been so engrossed in his own thoughts, that he never said the pen flying through the air before it struck him on the side of the head.  Turning to the culprit, he asked hurtfully, "What was that for?"

            "I had asked you what the case we got was about, but you seemed to be in your own little world." Singer stated wryly.

            "Oh!" Harrington answered; putting on his reading glasses as he flipped open the folder.  "Looks like we are to defend Marine Sergeant Andrew Clive, who was arrested outside a nightclub in San Diego after he allegedly shot and killed a civilian in an alley."

            "Sounds like fun…" Singer answered skeptically.

            "Oh indeed." Harrington agreed before slight movement outside the office window drew his attention.  His eyes narrowed, and he said offhandedly to Singer, "Just one moment…"

            Harrington quickly pulled open the door, and several Petty Officers fell forward into the office, led by Tiner.  Singer was about ready to set the office ablaze with her glare alone, and Tiner sheepishly explained, "We just wanted to see if you were all right, sir… Lieutenant Singer seemed mad…"

            Harrington smiled evilly, and replied, "Well, as you can see, Tiner, I'm just fine." Then his tone became serious, and he added, "I suggest you and your cohorts return to your posts before I decide to report this to the Admiral… or maybe I'll just throw you to Lt. Singer's mercies…"

            That cleared the mass of humanity in seconds.  Singer glowered, and replied, "I'm going to report them to the Admiral anyway.  I wish you wouldn't have said what you did, because now I'm going to look like even more of a bitch."

            Harrington closed the office door again, and said reassuringly, "I don't think you need to report this.  I think they learned their lesson."

            "It's the principle of the thing!  They had no right trying to eavesdrop…"

            Harrington interrupted.  "It was minor, and I doubt they got much of anything worthwhile.  Besides, it's obvious that they are so scared of you that my warning along with that glare of yours will probably be more effective than any restraining order."

            "But…" Singer was starting to realize she wasn't going to win this argument… Harrington wasn't going to let her.

            "Didn't anyone ever tell you 'don't sweat the small stuff'?  If this happens again, I'll be the first one to report it.  Anyway, we have a trip to prepare for.  How about I meet you at your place at 1130?"

            "Why?" Singer asked.

            Harrington bit his lower lip, and replied, "Because… I have no idea where Dulles International is…"

            Singer wasn't sure if Harrington was serious, or he was just trying to get her to laugh and forget about Tiner and his cronies.  If it was the latter, then it worked.  "Okay, meet me at 1130, Major.  I'll show you the way."

End Episode 3