TITLE: What A Mistaka To Maka

AUTHOR: Vid Z.

DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc of the TV show JAG. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fic. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

PAIRING: Harm/Jen

WARNINGS: shameless fluff and nothing but fluff

SIZE OF THE FIC: 89kb

SPOILERS: everything before Hail and Farewell

TIMELINE: takes place at the end of Season 9

SUMMARY: always be sure of where you're going. Taking the wrong direction can change your life.

AN #1: No, it's not a typo. The title comes from one of my fav shows of all times: 'Alo 'Alo, a british comedy that takes place during World War II in occupied France. "What a mistaka to maka" was something the Italian liaison liked to say when he made a mistake.

AN #2: The Admiral in this fic is something like Scrooge. No comment he makes reflects my opinions or beliefs on any matter. Remember, in this fic he is an anti-social jerk. I'm not bashing him, I just needed him that way for the plot to work.

AN #3: Mattie is no longer a part of their lives, but Jen is still Harm's neighbour. Mac is still with Webb, but makes no real appearance in this fic.

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Commander Harmon Rabb Jr. and Petty Officer 1st Class Jennifer Coates were in Vegas, attending a conference on Surface Warfare and Maritime Laws governing it.

Cmdr. Rabb, being the nation's foremost expert on Maritime Law, had to attend this conference as part of his duties. PO Coates's presence was something of a mystery. Even to herself. The official line was that she was his legalman and was to assist the Commander any way she was able to.

But Jennifer's suspicions, with which Harm completely agreed, were that she was sent out of town with him because the Admiral was in one of his moods and just didn't want her around. Not that Jen minded being away from HQ and the cranky old Admiral.

Well, to be honest, she was so happy when she received his orders that she wanted to kiss him on his shiny bald head. But she managed to restrain herself. She was sure he wouldn't have appreciated the gesture and she really didn't like the idea of spending her time in a brig somewhere, when she could be spending it with her best friend, Harm.

Yes, she did consider him her best friend. After all, no-one had ever done as much for her as Harm did. And no-one had as much faith and trust in her as Harm. That made him her best friend automatically.

One important issue had her worried though.

The Admiral was obnoxious and unbearable almost constantly recently. Actually, if Jen though about it, the periods of his moods almost seemed to follow exact intervals. Hmmm, period... The Admiral has certainly been moody at regular intervals, almost a month apart. Could he have undertaken a drastic surgery and/or is receiving hormone shots?

The mental image of the Admiral in drag had 2 effects on Jen at the same time: she wanted to burst out laughing and she lost her appetite.

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This was going through Jen's head as she followed Harm across the lobby of the hotel at which the conference was taking place.

The place was very crowded and Harm had to practically shove through the crowd to get to where they were going.

Finally they were at the other end and were rewarded by seeing a double door, guarded by two bouncers.

As they came near the door, the two guards stopped them, requesting they write their names and personal information on a single participation form and sign it.

Harm and Jen filled out the one form with their information, signed it and returned it to the guards.

The guards then opened the door, commenting on them almost being too late and motioned for Harm and Jen to go through.

Harm nodded thankfully at them and moved on, aware of Jen following only a step behind. They were, after all, in uniform and had to follow protocol. If they were in civilian clothes Jen would've been walking beside him.

Harm entered the room and froze in his tracks. Jen, who hadn't anticipated it, collided with his back, bouncing off his body. Thankfully she caught herself before hitting the floor.

But then it hit her: Harm didn't even try to catch her. She knew if he were a aware of her falling he would've tried anything to protect her from injury. That meant he wasn't even aware of her running into him.

Looking at him she saw he wasn't moving. She wasn't even sure he was breathing.

Looking around him she saw what captured his attention so completely. The room, being extremely large, was filled with people.

Which wouldn't have been anything strange, since they were supposed to be at a conference, but it was clear that this was NOT 'their' conference.

There was something strange about this.

Well, if you can call a room full of women in wedding dresses and men in tuxedos, strange. 'Yep', Jen thought, 'this is definitely weird.'

Suddenly she also realized she was standing there with her jaw gaping open, just staring, being a perfect imitation of a statue called Harmon Rabb.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a small, older man, dressed in a suit and so full of energy he was practically bouncing, came up to them and squinted up at Harm through his glasses, which just made his eyes look enormous.

He cleared his throat and politely asked: "May I have some personal IDs, please?"

Too stunned to do anything but comply, Jen and Harm took out their military IDs and gave it to the energetic little man.

He put them on the clipboard he held in his hands, made some thoughtful noises and scribbled something down.

Then he returned the IDs, said: "Thank you and congratulations!" and sped away. Just then a loud cheering drowned out all the noise in the room and all the couples embraced and kissed.

Harm and Jen just looked at each other, turned around and went the way they came from.

After much searching they finally found the correct room and sneaked in. The first day of the conference was, as expected, very boring.

But as Harm was one of the main speakers, the following days became quite busy and the strange incident quickly slipped their minds.

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4 days later Harm and Jen were back in D.C. and preparing for work.

Jen, being the Admiral's yeoman, left quite early in order to get started on her workload as soon as possible. She had a lot to do.

Harm took his time getting ready, knowing he would still be on time.

Despite what ugly rumors said, Harm was always punctual. He had always been a perfectionist, having had that ingrained in him by his upbringing and the military. This encompassed not only how clean his apartment was, the order in his office and on his desk (compared to Mac's disaster area), but also his punctuality. Mac always jested him on being late, but Harm just didn't have the heart to tell her that her inner clock, on which she so prided herself, had been running ahead at least 15 minutes since he had known her. He liked her (mostly) playful teasing about him being late, with it he gauged the current state of their friendship. Also by her tone he could tell immediately if she was angry at him for something or not.

And if something made him late for the office, he took his latest secret toy to get to work on time.

No-one at the office, except for Jen who caught him putting it in the garage when he first brought it home, knew that Harm had indulged himself during the winter and bought a completely new "road-rocket". He had fun with the Indian, but after a few months his need for speed and adrenalin woke up again, pointing out how slow, heavy, clumsy and expensive the classic bike was and demanding something fast. The Indian was a nice bike, but if you want something exciting, something that would make you young again and make your blood sing in your veins, then it just isn't it.

So, Harm sold the Indian (for a lot more than what he gave for it) and bought himself a new Suzuki GSX-R 1000. At only 365 pounds and over 170 HP it was enough to make sure he got to the office on time.

Plus, it being very light, compact, fast and highly maneuverable, it made rush hour traffic and miles long jams disappear. Instead of sitting in a car, behind hundreds of other cars, he would just comfortably ride on between them. Several times during such occasions he saw some of his co-workers stuck in these traffic jams. No matter how powerful his and Mac's Corvettes are, they are still cars and are easily overwhelmed and subdued by traffic jams.

(AN: An interesting fact: according to the new Austrian traffic law, bikers are now legally allowed to do that.)

Also, since he thought ahead, he bought a top case for the bike, which allowed him to transport his briefcase, his uniform (to change into in his office) and anything else he needed.

There are advantages to having an office so far away from everyone else, he mused while putting on his protective clothing. Since his office was so far away from everyone else, no-one ever noticed him sneaking in wearing his leather 2-piece body-suit, his uniform in a duffle bag. There are advantages in being great friends with the Marine guards, like them keeping his bike safe and stored away from prying eyes and long fingers.

When he was getting the bike out of the garage, he was musing over the fact that he was using his cars for commuting to the office less and less and almost always rode his bike there. Even his plane 'Sarah' was seeing less action than in the previous years.

He was getting a real thirst for the rush and the pleasure that riding the bike gave him. Even more than flying a Tomcat. In fact, he was thinking of giving up his flight status. There was nothing that could compare to the feel of the bike, eating up miles of the road and of the rush that comes from taking the corners at the limits, pushing the envelope, having the knee-sliders come into contact with the road-surface and the friction producing sparks. After experiencing that, the Tomcat seemed lame. Not to mention the old, slow and clumsy Indian.

'Indian? " -snort -" No, thank you, Ma'am, I've got my Gixxer.' Harm thought as he cranked the throttle and sped off towards Falls Church.

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AN: yes, I know Harm still had the Indian, but I always believed for that kind of bike to be OOC for Harm. Harm is an adrenalin junkie and a slow, clumsy, ugly old bike like the Indian would give him as much of an adrenalin rush as being bored to death would. Proof are the fast, slick, beautiful, powerful toys he has, like the 'Vette and the Tomcat. An Indian definitely doesn't belong in that company, but a slick, powerful and beautiful maching like the Gixxer certainly does.

Everything about the bike (pics also) can be found:

http/www. suzukicycles. com/Products/GSXR1000K6/Default.aspx (without the spaces)