Title: “Disconnect”
Author: AeroGirl
Email: michaerogirl@hotmail.com
Website: http://www.jagarchive.com/Aerogirl/main.html
Rating: PG
Classification: vignette
Spoilers: “Complications,” “Heroes,” “Adrift”

Summary: A follow-up to the bar conversation in the eighth-season 
episode 
“Complications.”  Singer’s POV.

Disclaimer: What, you think I’d claim Singer as my own?  Not a chance.

Author’s Notes: Let it be known that I do NOT actually see Harm like 
this!  
I just see how Singer could, given her somewhat skewed view of the 
world.  
That’s why it’s called “Disconnect” – she just doesn’t get it.  Harmy 
board 
members, please don't kill me!


"Disconnect"


Damn him.

If I study human nature for a hundred years, I will never understand 
that 
man.  Could he be any more judgmental and self-absorbed if he tried?  
Based 
on one non-answer to an unjustified question weeks ago, he’s somehow 
seized 
onto this baby as some kind of personal crusade.  That’s precisely what 
it 
is, too – a very, very personal quest to rescue his supposed blood 
relative 
from its heartless mother.  Well, gee-whiz, that’s so noble I could 
cry.

The rest of the staff would probably give him a medal for it, too.  
God, the 
level of adoration this group has for their resident problem child is 
stunning.  When he wins, he’s the second coming of Clarence Darrow.  
When he 
screws up – and he does, frequently and in spectacular fashion – he’s 
“just 
being him.”  When he jilts them for a more glamorous job, they welcome 
him 
back.  When he deserts his purported best friend on the eve of her 
wedding 
and demolishes everyone’s first fleeting moment of happiness and 
normalcy in 
ages ... they weep at his damn bedside.  And then he just gets right up 
and 
goes on about his business like the world stopped for him.  How is it 
that 
nobody seems to see those oh-so-revered gold wings as the ultimate 
symbol of 
selfishness?

There seems to be a widespread belief that passion is a desired trait 
in a 
lawyer.  No one seems to understand that calm, analytical thinking 
works far 
better than amateur dramatics in front of the jury box.  I guess I 
could 
blame TV and movies for that misconception, but in this case, I blame 
him, 
too.  For Christ’s sake, he fired a fully automatic weapon in the 
courtroom! 
  I wish I could attribute that legend to office rumor and 
exaggeration, but 
I looked up the records.  And what did they do to him after this 
blatant 
disregard for regs and safety?  They slapped him on the wrist and 
docked his 
pay. Someone needs to hold him accountable for the stunts he pulls – 
someone 
really needs to tell him that he’s not living in a Tom Cruise movie – 
but no 
one ever does.  They admire him all the more for it.  Try as I might, I 
can’t wrap my mind around that.

He’s made it perfectly clear what he thinks of me.  He gets the benefit 
of 
the doubt in every situation, but I don’t get a scrap of consideration 
from 
him.  I could vanish into thin air tomorrow, and were it not for the 
fact 
that I’m carrying a child to whom he feels some connection, he’d 
probably be 
the first to pop the champagne.  And let’s be clear about one thing: 
it’s 
not just the fact that there’s a baby involved here.  That, at least, I 
could try to respect.  But if he hadn’t gotten fixated on the idea that 
his 
brother fathered it, there’s no way he’d be so gung-ho.  No, he’s 
trying to 
play the “I don’t want this baby to have the same troubles I did” card.  
On 
the surface, that sounds all right, but all it does is bring the focus 
back 
to him.  Poor thing – he lost his father.  You know what?  Lots of 
people 
have.  And last I checked, there were much worse things in this world 
than 
growing up with a rich stepfather.  So what if he didn’t like the guy?  
He 
got out soon enough, didn’t he?  All the right schools, all the right 
billets, all the right holes punched on his express ticket to the Judge 
Advocate General’s chair.  Yeah, life’s been hell, hasn’t it?  Most 
people 
are lucky to find one job they can do decently.  He wrecked up one, and 
they 
gave him another.  Sorry, sir, but I’m not showing up to that pity 
party.

And I think offering to take the baby was just about the last straw for 
me.  
Just like that, he says, “Give it to me, then.”  Again, how noble of 
him.  
He offers to mitigate my stigma of being a single mother, knowing full 
well 
that he wouldn’t face any for adopting.  It’s amazing.  First I’m evil 
for 
not wanting to have the baby, then I’m evil for agreeing to keep it 
only for 
a few more months.  Like he really wants me to keep it permanently? 
Like 
he’s got complete faith in my maternal abilities?  News flash: 
sometimes 
biological ties aren’t enough to make a family work.  If they were, 
maybe 
his brother would still be here.

Why should I give it to him instead of someone who wants it?  The idea 
of 
JAG’s own Sir Lancelot schlepping a diaper bag and strapping a car seat 
into 
that Corvette is about as realistic as the idea of me winning an 
office-wide 
popularity contest.  There’s no way he’d really be able to put someone 
else’s needs ahead of his own like that.  He wouldn’t fare any better 
than I 
would at the parenting game.

Would he?

No.  No way.  At least, I don’t think so.

Oh, hell, I don’t know.

Forget it.  Go back to your airplanes, Harmon Rabb.  Up there, you’ve 
got a 
convenient system to help you paint your contacts as friend or foe, so 
your 
rigid moral absolutes might actually work.  You won’t be bothered by 
the 
complexities of all the little people you can’t see.  And up there, 
you’ll 
really be as far above us all as you think you are.


*** THE END ***