Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

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Episode: Collision Course

- A forest, somewhere in Virginia

Loren rested her head on the steering wheel and closed her eyes. God, was she tired. No, was she joking? She was far beyond tired, she was at the brink of a coma! There couldn't have been a worse time for the senior staff members together with Lieutenant Roberts to be off to the Mediterranean dumping all the cases in her sorry lap.

It wasn't the amount of work itself. It wasn't working long hours or the pressure of time. Heck, she had made a practical course at one of Chicago's most famous law firms and there walking out at 10 p.m. had been intolerably early. Not to mention that the first meeting of the day had sometimes been scheduled at 7:30 in the morning.

No, what was wearing her out now was working in the manner of Singer. Alone. No one to share a simple joke with or to ask for advice without losing face. No matter what she was doing, she had to do it in Singer- fashion. She really had a sign on her back ... and it had Singer written all over it. Oh, darn it - normally it wasn't her thing to complain openly but once or twice the frustration had gotten the better of her, so... Oh, she wished she'd have kept her mouth shut.

Loren sighed deeply and sat back again. Even if she wanted to help she had to do it in roundabout ways. Like saving Michael Roberts from Victor Galindez. Wow, if looks could kill! Galindez really took his job as sister- protector seriously. She just hoped Bud Roberts would never learn how she had gotten his brother off the hook. Her words about the boy hadn't been the nicest of the world. Well, it had worked. But she could have done without Tiner overhearing the conversation. It had only forced her to tell another lie to cover her tracks.

But on second thoughts: Had it really been that much a lie? Involuntarily she shivered. Sometimes her role felt ... way too natural to be comfortable any more. Singer seemed to be ... so real sometimes. So near ... as if looking right over her shoulder...

'I should really do something about my lively imagination!' Loren shook her head. This wasn't good. She had always considered herself a down-to-earth person. And now it was even more important to be one - tired or not.

Thankfully Webb chose this very moment to drive into the parking lot. He was out of his car and in her passenger's seat before she could even open the door.

"Loren."

"Mister Webb."

Loren took a look at him and then added a second one. She had come to know this man very well over the last months and so she sensed immediately that something was up. But she knew better than to ask.

As usual Webb jumped right into the subject. "Chegwidden's car has been a blind alley, nothing to watch out for from our side. Our Captain in Norfolk is more interesting at the moment but under control. How are things at JAG?"

"Rather quiet these days." Loren gathered her thoughts. "Westland's friends have been disappointed because of the new Inspector General but not too much. And I don't think they're blaming me for the outcome."

"Any luck with other moles in there?"

"No, nothing. I still think there is no one else involved in Westland's little sideline, at least no one who is giving information consciously. Except for me of course. Why do you ask? I thought we were agreed on that one."

As Webb didn't answer Loren felt a sudden wave of hope washing over her. Had he finally decided to end it? Were they about to plug the leak so she would be able to leave JAG for good?

Webb rummaged through the big envelope he had brought with him and handed her a photograph. A portrait of a man, not really handsome, maybe in his twenties, nothing remarkable in his features. After studying it for some seconds Loren tried to hand it back.

"No, I don't know him."

Webb made no move to take the photo. "His code name is going to be Foxhound. It isn't necessary you know his real name but he will act as Corporal Martin Roland, United States Marine Corps."

Loren stared at him.

"Singer's use is strictly limited to JAG and to a smaller part to naval information in general. Her profile isn't flexible enough to deal with the drug branch of Senvealda's organization. Foxhound will get us there - and you're going to give him an opening."

He handed her some sheets of paper. Loren scanned them quickly. All was based on what Naval Intelligence had discovered while trailing Westland: That the Petty Officer obviously wasn't just a mole in JAG but also involved in Senvealda's drug business. The plan itself was rather simple. A transfer to Norfolk, a misbehavior, a trial, a dismissal or a notice, depending on the circumstances. All she had to do was to draw Westland's attention to Foxhound's impressive background, the rest was up to the agent. If he was successful in breaking into Senvealda's organization he'd be given some time to secure his new position and then the Captain in Norfolk and Westland would be taken care of. Loren looked again through the papers.

"What about me?"

"We need you to tie up loose ends and to make sure that Westland's connections will be cut a hundred percent. After an appropriate time we'll get you out."

Loren felt a growing sense of disaster. "How long?"

"All in all? About half a year."

Loren exhaled slowly. Six more months. So a mission supposed to run less than a year would last almost two. If that was enough. She looked outside. Richard. What would he say?

"You're asking a lot."

"No, Loren." She turned her head and met his steady gaze. "I'm not asking."

For a very long time they just looked at each other. In the end it was Loren who broke the contact. She smiled unhappy because of the irony.

"Sorry, my mistake." The bitterness was evident in her voice. Still she felt Webb's eyes on her. But again he was giving her no direct response.

"You're our expert in military law at the moment. I want you to check every detail concerning the Navy. I certainly don't want Foxhound sentenced to some years of hard labor in Leavenworth. If you were his defense it would be fortunate - but we'll deal with what we get."

Loren swallowed hard. It took her some effort but somehow she managed to focus on the task at hand. Pushing any feelings deep down, she flipped through the papers again.

"I must do some research, find some precedents. Insulting an officer sounds good at the moment especially if happened repeatedly... But I want to check the possibilities."

"That's in your hands. Contact me as soon as you've got something. Oh, and by the way: For Foxhound you're Naval Intelligence."

Loren's head snapped upwards. "Excuse me?"

"He's FBI. We don't need to complicate things more than necessary."

"FBI?!" echoed Loren in disbelief. "Is there any intelligence service that does actually not know about this operation? How did the FBI get a piece of this cake anyway?"

"Admiral Chegwidden's car and Naval Intelligence's big heart." Webb's reply was absolutely dry. Loren groaned.

"Great. More favors," she muttered. "Can't you offer something else?"

Webb considered her silently. "They're very interested in Senvealda's business contacts in the States. And right at the moment I'm a little short of favors."

Loren just snorted, feeling anger boiling inside. She knew he had had some trouble because of the Drax-affair although the fallout in the press had been rather decent. Still ... for Rabb and his brother he had favors left - but not for her. Meanwhile Webb had opened the door and climbed out of her car. Before he slammed the door shut he bent back into the car once more.

"We all have a price to pay, Loren."

"To speak freely - it's a darn high price for me," she replied harshly.

"There are higher prices than that."

This time Loren didn't answer. She refused to look at him.

"If he really loves you, he'll wait."

Loren turned her head in surprise but he was already on his way to his car.