Very Far Away from AnyJAG Else by Maureen S. O'Brien Rating: PG Category: H Spoilers: up to "The Stalker" Summary: If Mac and the Admiral get together, what will the poor Harm/Mac shippers write? Author's Note: Dedicated to Joy, who tries to talk me down, and The Powers That Be, who *know* how they're yanking our chains -- and that we'll love them for it! Disclaimer: If JAG belonged to me instead of Donald P. Bellisario, Belisarius Productions, and Paramount, I think last night's ep would have been different. Quantum Leap belongs to Belisarius, Airwolf belongs to MCA/Universal, DPB and Belisarius instead of me -- and yeah, those would also have come out differently. --------------------------------------------------------------------- "Here I am," Judge Advocate General Harmon Rabb, Jr. complained to DCI Clayton Webb, "Fifty years old. Tanned, taut, two stars. Still able to take up my antique Tomcat, take down a criminal, or take over a doomed defense and turn it into a win. But can I find a woman to take me on? Nooooo." Eavesdropping, Alison Krennick waved frantically in Harm's direction. He ignored her. "There was only one woman who really understood me and liked my life. But did she fall in love with me? Nooooo. By the time I'd realized she was the one I'd been waiting for, she was married to my boss, had two kids, and only wanted me as a friend. Because I'm just too young for her." Carolyn Imes sashayed past the table, smiling and breathing deeply. Harm ignored her. "So when did you realize Mac was the one?" the aged intelligence officer asked, curious. (Of course he was curious. People who aren't curious don't even apply for a position with the...oh, yeah. He *was* officially employed by the CIA now. He just worked as a State Department mole on the side.) "Oh, about five minutes ago, thanks to all those old head injuries." "You said it, I didn't." Harm glared at Clay. "What's your excuse? Besides, I've been playing and singing really gloomy love songs, dating dark-haired women, and having brokenhearted fits of angst for *years*!" Francesca Coretti-Chegwidden 'accidentally' tripped over Harm's chair. Webb picked her up, dusted her off, and had her on her way before Harm could even bother to ignore her. "Certainly explains that strafing run prank at A.J.'s bachelor party. Or was that those old head injuries?" "Nah, that was just Keeter with some time on his hands. Just 'cause I was on a beer run at the time, everybody thinks it was me!" "Suuuure." "It was his revenge for me dating Maria Elena Carmelita Moreno Gutierrez!" "Well, that I might buy. Except that none of my surveillance teams were ever able to obtain a photo of this alleged diplomat girlfriend of yours." "Hey, I said she worked at the Spanish Embassy. I didn't say what section." A breath of wind ruffled Harm's iron-gray hair, flicked a bit of lint off his uniform, and added a little pepper to his food before wafting on. He grinned and ignored it. Webb raised an eyebrow, but also ignored it. He could check the list of known supernatural and mutant resident aliens in DC when he got back to the office. "To get back to the subject, Harm, I guess I know how you feel. I mean, here I am, the DCI, still living in my mother's basement. Granted, my mother's basement is larger than some countries, but still.... And that's why I'm not married. Because there was only one woman for me." "Who, your mother?" "That's sick, Harm. No." "But I always thought you were trying to get famous through slashfic, like Krycek on the X-Files." Webb froze him with a look. "No. Besides, leather chafes me so." "Okay, then it's because you can't get a date." "Please. Anyone can get a date in Washington, if you hang around Congress long enough." Bobbi Latham hmmphed and went off. "And those supermodels think spies are really sexy," Webb added. "But I can't go through with it. Because *she* broke my heart." "Who, Mac?" "No." "Meg?" "No." "Was it Cait?" "No! Not either of them! Marella! That's who! The one who thought I was too young for her!" "How old were you?" "Ten. She was nineteen. But age doesn't matter! I was in love, and she broke my heart, I tell you!" "Pipe down, Clay," a new voice warned from behind Harm. "As DCI, the very existence of your heart is something you're not allowed to confirm or deny." "Oh, right," Clay mumbled, looking embarrassed. Harm looked over his shoulder and saw an attractive black woman dressed all in white. "Admiral Rabb, I'm Marella," she introduced herself. "Now, go away. I need to declare my long-hidden feelings for this man." "Oh. Be seeing you, Clay," Harm said awkwardly. "Or not, as the case may be." As he walked away, he looked back and saw Marella drinking his wine and Clay looking increasingly happy. Darn it. Everyone else was finding love, and he was still alone. "Hey, sailor. How long do I have to stand here before you quit ignoring me?" He spun around. Suddenly the restaurant Muzak was playing thousands of strings' worth of old Celine Dion songs, while incredibly flattering light played upon *her* face. It was a certain female Marine lawyer, the only creature named Sarah that he loved more than his Stearman "Sarah" or his antique Tomcat "Sarah Too" or his helicopter "Sarah: Part III" or his backyard space-capable Delta Clipper "To the Moon, Sarah" or even his old SuperUltraCray computer server at "http://quesarahsarah.com/". How could he have been so blind for so long with her name staring him in the face all the time? Maybe it was all the glare flashing off her shining brown hair. And her wedding ring. "Uh, hi, Mac. Sorry about A.J. I would have been with you in your grief, except for that little matter of someone trying to destroy the world again." She sighed, and her stunning little black dress sighed too. "I know. Funny how stuff happens every time we have a wedding or a funeral to attend." She took her wedding ring off. Harm sucked in a breath. The ghost of Dalton Lowne floated by, cursing angrily. Mac ignored him. Harm waved and then gave him the finger behind his back. The ghost of Dalton Lowne floated by, cursing angrily. Mac ignored him. Harm waved and then gave him the finger behind his back. "All this incredibly flattering light, too. How long were you standing there listening to us, Mac?" She glanced up at him, her deep brown eyes twinkling like dirty puddles. "Since Clay confessed to childhood lechery. Why?" "Oh, darn...I mean, too bad. It was a good conversation. We were saying witty things. Certainly not talking about you. Yeah. Um. So what have you been up to lately, Mac?" "Missing my poor dear departed sexily bald Cheggie, of course. Interrogating the kids, spoiling the grandkids, shopping for stunning black dresses and lingerie with my stepdaughter Francesca of the forty facelifts...you know the drill." "Wish I did," murmured Harm under his breath. "So how are you, Harm? You look...I don't know...distinguished, yet harried by loneliness and deep concealed longings." "Er...I'm fine." He looked nervously back to his table. Marella was scarfing down his dinner, which was being fed to her by Clay. Mouth-to-mouth. "Hey, why don't we get out of here and go eat some real food?" Mac leaned forward eagerly. "Fast food?" "Um...okay." "Beltway Burgers?" "If I can get a salad." "We're outta here." Five minutes later, they were sitting together on the hood of Mac's Land Rover 5000Z (0-60 in 1 second at up to a 40% grade), chowing down. Harm couldn't decide if the rush he felt was Mac's presence or the rapid increase in blood sugar. Man, he hated the wait for food in those fancy restaurants. Strangely, every car heading for the drive-thru was tuned into the same radio station, playing the same Celine Dion song as the Muzak at the restaurant. Harm took it as a sign. So did Mac. "Mac...." "Harm, I've...." "You go first." "Ooh, you wish." She grinned, and the unbelievably flattering light of the sodium-vapor streetlamps glanced off her teeth. "Okay, if you're gonna be like that, fine. I love you, all right! I love you, and I'm going to marry you and we're gonna have a zillion babies, thanks to modern technology, and...." "We?" "Yeah, remember the new He-Womb?" "Oh, right. Well, that sounds like a plan." She leaned over and kissed him, and the earth moved out of its orbit and onto the first leg of its long journey towards the galactic core. Yeah, it had a new career as a multi-generation spaceship designed by Dr. Sam Beckett as soon as he got home (well, okay, as soon as his wife let him out of bed, but he got the *idea* as soon as he got home and the earth moved for them), and executively ordered by President Sims under pressure from the First Gentleman, Bud, who thought it was really neat. Did I tell you Spaceship Earth's new name was the U.S.S. Sarah? Some people shouldn't be allowed on naming committees. THE END -------------------------------------------------------------------- http://www.dnaco.net/~mobrien/fanfic/ http://www.dnaco.net/~mobrien/filk/media/jagfilk.html