Author's Note: Here comes the 2nd movement… a little bit of a teaser if you will.

2nd Author's Note: Due to many constraints on my time in the coming months, it is unlikely that I will be able to update this with any consistency.  Thus, if there is someone who would like to take over this fiction, I am willing to hear it out.  E-mail me at chemiclord@yahoo.com, and I can arrange to have the remaining story arc sent for perusal.

Episode 13

Team Tryouts

FBI Headquarters, Washington D.C., 1204 EST, November 3

            "I'm sorry, Agent Harrington, but Assistant Director Jansen's lunch meeting is running late." The secretary stated.

            Harrington glanced behind her towards the empty office that his direct superior normally resides in.  That's actually typical for Jansen.  "Well, I won't waste your time asking when he'll be back.  I know him far too well."

            "I'll make sure that you will be the first to know when he returns." The secretary said apologetically, "You'd think just once he'd be able to keep his appointments on schedule."

            Harrington smirked, and replied, "Thanks, Betty.  I'll be around the corner."

            Harrington stepped into the office space that for a brief time, he called his workspace.  He had never really had the chance to grow fond of the headquarters, since he had spent maybe a couple weeks of his brief tenure in the FBI here.  Judging from the lack of activity or even human bodies in the department, he could judge that most everyone else had the same issues.

            "Gee… look who's come back home begging for scraps." A familiar feminine voice teased.

            Harrington whirled around, and nearly rubbed his eyes to make sure he was seeing straight.  "Ronnie?  When did you get here?"

            "About two weeks ago.  It's ironic that I got the job of the person who got me sent to that purgatory called Interpol." The waiflike brunette replied smoothly.

            "If it hadn't been for me you would have been looking at 10-25." Harrington reminded.  "So, they've decided to give you another chance?"

            "They needed someone to replace you, and fast.  I guess I was the one they could most afford to bring back in." Ronnie shrugged.  "Hey, I need a smoke, come with me."

            Deciding he had nothing better to do, Harrington followed Agent Chapel to the smoking break room.  Like the rest of the department, the lack of activity was notable.  Ronnie wasted no time pulling a cigarette and lighter out of her pocket, pulling the smoldering paper to her lips with a satisfied sigh.

            "Haven't you learned your lesson?" Harrington asked.

            Ronnie looked insulted, and scoffed, "It's only a cigarette."

            "Sure it is…"

            "Hey!" Ronnie stated, "With the random drug tests they're making me take, do you think I'd take that sort of risk?  Get real."

            "You know that stuff will kill you."

            Ronnie pulled the cigarette out of her mouth, regarded the object, and said, "Ironic isn't it?  The more dangerous product is the one that's perfectly legal.  Go figure."

            Harrington shook his head, "I'm not getting into this discussion again."

            "So… what does the boss want to talk to you about?"

            "Probably the transfer to the Legal Department I asked for." Harrington replied.

            "Maybe he's going to tell you that you didn't get it, but he was able to swing for an opening at Interpol in Seattle." Ronnie said with a teasing smile.

            "If he says that, I'll go into the private sector." Harrington replied.  He was about to explain further when his cel-phone interrupted him.  "One second, Ronnie…" He opened the device, and put it to his ear. "Hello?  Oh… hi, honey."

            "Honey?" Ronnie asked, her eyebrow lifting in query.

            Harrington held up a finger, requesting her silence, as he continued, "No… my superior is on a lunch meeting, and hasn't gotten back yet.  No, I haven't forgotten your uniform.  I'll pick it up from the cleaners after my meeting is over.  Yes, sweetie… I should be back to make dinner."

            "Sweetie?" Ronnie asked again.

            Harrington put his hand over the transmitter, and hissed, "Hush you."  Then he turned back to the person on the other end of the line.  "I love you too, dear.  See you tonight." Harrington disconnected, and slipped his cel-phone back in his pocket.

            Ronnie nearly pounced on him, "Honey?  Sweetie?  Dear?  Who's the girl that finally whipped you into shape?"

            "None of your business."

            "Is it that little blonde that works for the JAG office you went undercover in?  She is kind of a cutie." Ronnie said slyly with one more pull of her cigarette.  "Does she know that you've been ring shopping?"

            "How on earth did you find out about that?" Harrington asked.  "Have you been following me?"

            "Not me…" Ronnie denied.   "I just happened to hear some of the office talk.  I guess one of the agents undercover at the D.C. Mall happened to see you shopping around jewelry stores, and making a purchase a few days ago.  They figured it had to do with the girl that you had been seen with frequently."

            Harrington shook his head in disbelief.  He should have known that there were no secrets among the agents in this division.  "All right, yes, I bought an engagement ring, okay?"

            Ronnie extinguished her cigarette, and leaned forward towards Harrington, her elbows propped on the table.  "So… when are ya gonna pop the question, you Casanova you?"

            Harrington shrugged, "When the time is right.  I'd rather wait and see if I actually have a position here before I decide to proceed with any commitments.  I probably shouldn't have bought the ring at all… but it looked perfect for her."

            "Do you have it with you, can I see it?" Ronnie begged.

            With a resigned sigh, Harrington pulled a small velvet box out of his pocket, and handed it to Ronnie.  She opened the box, and audibly gasped at the sight; a platinum ring with inlaid small carat diamonds in a starburst pattern.  "Are the stones real?"

            "Of course they are." Harrington scoffed at the very idea he'd purchase imitation.  "And that is real platinum as well."

            Ronnie smirked playfully, but before she could say anything else, AD Jansen's secretary popped her head into the break room.  "There you are, Agent Harrington.  AD Jansen just arrived, and is ready to speak to you."

            "Oh… thanks, Betty.  I'm on my way." Harrington replied, "I guess we'll chat more some other time, Ronnie."

            Assistant Director Jansen had the look of a man who had already had a long day… and it was barely past noon.  "At this rate, I'm not going to have any hair by dinnertime.  Have a seat, Agent Harrington."

            Harrington complied, and Jansen got right down to business.  "Well, the Legal Department has just gotten back to me regarding your request for transfer.  It has been accepted, pending a tryout of sorts."

            "How so?" Harrington asked.

            "Director Nimitz of the Legal Department will contact you within the hour with more details.  What I can tell you is that there is more than a legal trial that you'll be involved in."

            Harrington shook his head, trying to figure out just what his superior was trying to say.  "Can you at least give me the poignant details?"

            "I'd be glad to." An all too familiar voice said from the doorway.

            Harrington didn't need to see who it was.  Dropping his head in his left hand, he asked, "Is it too late for me to request a transfer to Interpol?"

            Webb ignored the quip, and replied, "Two FBI agents in Hawaii were boating out the Naval Base in Pearl Harbor.  According to initial reports, a Navy destroyer engaged the small craft, and destroyed it, killing the agents."

            "Why?" Harrington asked.

            "The Navy claims that the agents were told to stand down, and leave the vicinity, but didn't comply.  Assuming the boat to be a terrorist threat, the destroyer went into defensive procedures.  It wasn't until after the incident that it became revealed the boater's identity."

            "So… what's my role in all this?"

"The CIA suspects that the agents were undergoing… extracurricular activities, most notably gathering information about the Naval Base for potential sale to less than favorable sources.  While you are prosecuting the case, it will give me a cover to investigate these allegations."

"I see… and you went along with this?" Harrington asked the Assistant Director.

"It was Director Nimitz's call.  The way I see it… this is your one chance to stay in the FBI, Agent Harrington.  I would be careful." Jansen answered.

"Understood." Harrington replied.

"Mr. Webb, can you give Agent Harrington and myself a minute?"  Webb nodded, and stepped out of the office, closing the door behind him.  Now alone, Jansen said, "There's something I would like you to do while your prosecuting.  I want you to watch Webb as carefully as you can."

"Is there a reason for this?"

"It has become painfully obvious these last months that the nation can't trust the CIA to clean up their own messes.  I am wary of this entire mission, and can't help but think that the CIA is trying to shift some of the heat off themselves."

Harrington nodded, "That sounds like Central Intelligence."

"That's why the Legal Department has chosen you, I think.  You have something to prove, and you have experience working with Mr. Webb.  Anyway, good luck, Harrington.  You've been one of my best agents, and I'd hate to see you out of the Bureau.  Good luck."

Harrington stood, and had to fight the urge to salute.  He'd spent way too much time undercover.  "Thank you." With that, he left the Assistant Director's office.

Webb was waiting for Harrington right outside the office.  "Did the Assistant Director tell you to spy on me?"

"Of course." Harrington replied with a sigh, "He thinks that the CIA might be trying to shove some of the problems they're having on the FBI."

Webb frowned, "As much as I hate to say it… that wouldn't be above us.  I do believe that something suspicious happened out there, and it wasn't just simple miscommunication."

"For once… I agree with you."

JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, VA- 1330 EST

            "Colonel, Commander, Lt. Commander." Chegwidden nodded to Mac, Harm, and Singer as they entered his office.  "I've decided to send the three of you on a nice long trip to Hawaii."

            The three blinked warily, waiting for the Admiral to explain further.  "There was a miscommunication between a Navy destroyer and an FBI investigative pair outside of the Naval Base in Pearl Harbor.  The FBI has pressed charges against the Commanding Officer of the Destroyer, Captain John Francis."

            Singer gasped in shock.  Noting this, Admiral Chegwidden asked, "Is something wrong, Lieutenant Commander?"

            Singer paused nervously, and asked, "Does the file mention who the prosecutor for the FBI is?"

            Chegwidden smirked as he handed the file to Colonel MacKenzie.  "Let's not let the cat out of the bag just yet, Lt. Commander."

            Mac looked suspiciously at Singer and Chegwidden.  They knew something… something that Mac learned the moment she opened the folder.

            "Prosecuting Attorney… Special Agent Steven Harrington?" Mac yelped.  Harm looked over her shoulder to confirm for himself.

            "He called me… about a half hour ago, saying that he couldn't pick up my uniform from the cleaners because he had been ordered to travel to Hawaii by the FBI Legal Department." Singer said.

            "Well… I've been wanting to see what he's been up to." Mac stated, "Looks like my questions have been answered."

            The Admiral ordered, "You three leave at 1700.  Good luck, you just might need it.  I don't think I need to explain just how good your opponent is this time."

Pearl Harbor Naval Base, Hawaii- 1015 HST, November 4

            The three JAG officers arrived at the Headquarters of the Admiralty, only to find someone already in the reception area.

            "I was wondering when Admiral Chegwidden would send my opponents." Harrington stated smoothly.  "I'm not sure whether to be complimented that he sent his best to go against me… or depressed that I might lose because of it."

            "I take it you're here to interview Captain Francis." Harm commented.

            "Obviously." Harrington replied.

            "We could save time, and have all four of us interview him at once." Mac smirked.

            "That's a little unconventional, don't you think?"

            "Not really.  I've had interviews with the opposing attorney present before.  It really does save time." Mac assured, glancing Harm's way, "Besides, we want to get to the bottom of this as much as you do."

            Singer finally spoke.  "I think what the Colonel is trying to say is that while we may be opponents, we don't have to be enemies."

            Harrington smiled one of his signature grins, "Well, that's good.  I don't know if I'd be able to handle being enemies with you people." He then added, "I don't want to get hit again."

            "Then you better make sure you don't win." Mac teased, "I get angry and belligerent when I lose."

            Harrington shook his head, "If only I didn't know better than that, Colonel."

            At that moment, the receptionist, a young male Navy ensign, spoke over the intercom between the panels of bulletproof glass.  "Agent Harrington, Captain Francis is ready for questioning."

            Harrington glanced over to the three JAG officers and said, "Actually, I think the four of us are going to question him together, as I understand it."

            The receptionist blinked twice, then passively shrugged, "Very well."  He buzzed open the door to the detention center, and the four lawyers made their way inside.