AN: Recent events seen from a different perspective. Another one-shot, short piece of fluff.

The McMurphy Variation

On

Newton's Third

Oh, wow, that wasn't supposed to have happened! The plan had been to blow his mind with her outfit, lull him into a false sense of security and then haul off and kiss him while he was totally off balance. The whole idea had been to make him think for a bit, make him realise that there were other women in the world apart from the damn marine who had only ever made him miserable. And the plan had worked, to a degree. Except that he hadn't thought; he'd reacted instead.

It had all started this morning, well, no; it had started months ago, before she had ever reported to Falls Church. Apparently, he had been assigned flying duties for a while, but before that he and she, the marine that is, had been very close, and scuttlebutt had it that everyone expected big things of their relationship. But from what she'd seen since her arrival they had a very weird relationship. Especially after she'd been promoted; before that it had been 'Harm' and 'Mac', now it was 'Commander' and 'Colonel' all the time. MacKenzie was just so damn' competitive. OK, she was competitive herself, but only in a work situation. When she'd been in relationships - not that she'd had many, it was true, but when she had, she'd looked to complement the other person, not to compete with them or dominate them. But MacKenzie was so insecure about herself it seemed she couldn't be content, she always had to be push, push, pushing. And look at her, tall, beautiful, slim, but with curves in all the right place, elegant, olive complexion and gorgeous brunette hair. MacKenzie was and had everything that she, Loren, was not and did not have. Jealous? Of course she was jealous. But that was beside the point; MacKenzie wasn't just happy rubbing his nose in the fact that she'd been promoted - and how the hell did that happen? - while he hadn't been, she'd been leading him up the garden path, reeling him in and then cutting him loose only to reel him in again. No wonder the poor guy had been painted terminally confused, and sad and lonely. And anybody with any sort of compassion would have put him out of his misery, one way or the other, months ago.

Compassion? Yes, compassion. Loren Singer, she told herself, was not devoid of compassion; it was just that she was goal oriented. She had an ambition to achieve, a goal to reach, and reach it she would, if she had to kill, metaphorically speaking of course, everyone that stood between her and that goal and then use their bodies as stepping stones. But that was in her professional world. In her personal world, and she was quite able to separate personal from professional, unlike a certain marine officer she could, but wouldn't mention, she was capable of great compassion and even love. And as she had watched him over the months, she had stopped just feeling sorry for him and had come to love him. He was kind, considerate, and he cared about people. He was the only one that she knew of that never used the hateful nicknames that the rest of the office seemed to use with such relish when they talked about her. He'd helped her in prepping some court cases, he'd congratulated her when she'd won, he'd given her sympathetic squeeze on her shoulder, and words of encouragement, when she'd lost. He even coached that duffer Roberts, and although Roberts would never be as good a lawyer as him, or even herself, he had certainly improved under the Commander's mentoring. And the Commander always had time to say good morning to the enlisted in the office, and she had seen so many times that when they'd had problems they turned, without even thinking about it straight to him. Which she thought, just proved he was a better lawyer than anyone else in the office. Despite him spending - wasting - his time on these non-essential piddling little concerns, he was always on time for court, his win/lose record was better than anyone else in JAG, and his witness handling awe-inspiring in its intensity and efficacy.

Anyway the more she watched him, the more she fell in love with him, and although she hadn't said anything, she had seen, but not understood, his pain when they returned from Australia and the marine was wearing that ring. OK it had been on her right hand - like that made a difference! Then when she'd found out that the ring hadn't been from him but from that obnoxious Australian who had followed her over from his own country, she hadn't known whether to laugh with relief or cry at the extra pain he had felt.

And then this morning! She had been talking to Tiner, the admiral's yeoman when Harriett Sims, that empty headed Barbie had shrieked her surprise and ecstasy that the ring MacKenzie had been wearing on her right hand - as if that made a real difference - had been shifted to the left hand, and she had turned in surprise to see what all the fuss was about and had seen his face. He had been standing talking to Harriett and another JAG lawyer, a visitor she didn't recognise, when MacKenzie had come up to them and had so cruelly flaunted the ring on her left hand, and his face had collapsed. It had only been a brief second, fortunately when the attention of everybody had been fixed on that damn' ring, but she had seen the total misery, and the pain of irrevocable loss on his face, and that was when her own heart had nearly broken.

She'd overheard him later, and no it was an accident, she had not been eavesdropping, when he'd invited that other JAG officer out for a drink. But she'd turned him down, something about not playing second fiddle and there were already too many women in his life. She hadn't understood that, and neither apparently had he, but that other JAG, Kate something or other, she now remembered, yeah, Kate had just said that he needed to wake up.

Well if he was going for a drink and he fancied company, then she more or less knew where he'd go, and she was just in the mood to provide him with company. So she'd gone home and showered and had started to get dressed, when her plan had sprung into her mind. She opened her closet door and inspected her naked reflection in the full length mirror. Not bad for a woman her age, she thought, even if she did say so herself. But did she look good enough to bring off what she had just thought of? Well she could give it a try. Replacing the little blue cocktail dress she had originally selected, she pulled on a what was basically no more than a thong, and then lying down on the bed, she fought her way into a pair of jeans that she had bought in the belief that she was a size smaller than she really was, and then breathing slightly harder from the effort involved she had put on a bra and chosen one of her lightest weight white T-shirts. Looking again at her reflection, she didn't like the appearance she presented, the bra was visible through the cotton of the T-shirt and looked... wrong. She thought again and wondering if she could dare to be seen like that in public, she had stripped to the waist and then put the T-shirt back on. Well it was certainly eye catching she admitted to herself, but she couldn't walk around DC like that, she'd either get arrested or assaulted - or both! But... Yes! There it was, tucked right into the back of the closet, her old motorcycling leather jacket. With that zipped up the front she'd be OK. But even so... did she really have the nerve to go out dressed like that? Well, it was certainly daring and it should definitely knock him off balance and that was the aim for phase one of the plan! Twisting around to see her rear in the mirror she noted with satisfaction that the jeans didn't make her ass look big, but they did make it dead sexy! And that was the clincher - get on with girl, she told herself, before you chicken out.

She'd been right about one thing so far, well two things really, he was where she'd thought he would, at McMurphy's and she was certainly knocking some men off balance. Even Terence, the gay bar-tender gaped at her when she walked down the length of the bar, her now unzipped jacket giving occasional flashes of what she was, or wasn't, wearing underneath and she was conscious of receiving almost as many admiring looks from those she'd already passed.

She'd walked up to him and asked if the bar-stool next to him was take, It was obvious that it wasn't; he was sitting there brooding over the drink in front of him with such intensity that it would have taken a very brave, or very stupid person to disturb him. And 'I wonder' she'd asked herself 'into which category I fall!' Terence had moved along the bar to take her order and she'd asked for whatever he was drinking. It turned out to be Tequila, one of her least favourite tipples. Still she'd asked for it so she tipped it back and asked for two more, one for him and one for her. She had his attention all right; it hadn't really needed her to buy him a drink. Since she'd sat down and let her jacket fall open he'd hardly been able to take his eyes off her... her attributes. Phase one had worked, she had rocked him completely off balance. Saluting him with her glass, she had told him that she'd seen the MacKenzie ring's change of position, and she was sorry that he was hurting, and she really could feel his pain. And although losing Mac to Brumby was sad, it wasn't the end of the world.

He hadn't been convinced. So she told him about how she'd once been in love, and how her heart had been broken, but then when she'd never expected it, she had fallen in love all over again. And how had that worked out he'd wanted to know. She'd told him that she'd let him know when she found out. Then she'd smiled, phase two complete, he was completely unsuspecting. Hooking her boot heels on the rung of the bar-stool she braced the back of her knees against its seat and had grabbed his head with both hands and kissed him. He had been so surprised that he had just sat there and let her do it, until she had stabbed at his mouth with her tongue. And then he had reacted, and he had continued to react until she'd broken away gasping for air. Then she'd grinned and told him again that it wasn't the end of the world, slipped off the stool and then swinging her hips for added emphasis she had left the bar to a chorus of approving cheers and whistles.

That was when the plan went pear-shaped! It was only when she reached the coolness of the parking lot that the enormity of what she'd just done hit her. She had burned bright red, and leaning back against her car, she giggled in embarrassment and relief. Then he had reacted again, he had come bursting out of the bar marching straight towards her and as he'd approached she'd tried to say that she could explain, but that was when he grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her. Again and again, leaving her breathless and with knees that felt as if they'd been turned to jello. And that had not been part of the plan!

But she had only herself to blame she thought as she rolled over onto her side. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. She didn't really have any grounds for complaint; after all, she smiled to herself, she had started the whole thing. She'd kissed him, and he'd kissed her back. Action and reaction, simple physics. And they had reacted so well to each other so many times over the last five years, that the proof of their physics now lay sleeping in the nursery. But for now, she was happy just to lie here in bed and watch Harmon Rabb, her husband, sleeping beside her, until one of them decided to put Newton's third law to the test again.