A/N: I've been playing with this idea the last few days...there can never be enough A-Team love, in my humble opinion. *smile* In all, there will be four short, semi-related stories, each dealing with a different main character. Hope you enjoy...I apologize for an grammatical errors; late night writing is good for the juices, not propriety.
Disclaimer: Do not own.
B.A.: The 9th
StriderX
Exhaustion hung like a dark veil over the A-Team van as it rolled through the night. Their last mission had gone over as a complete success (even managing a couple side-jobs in the process) but after two-weeks of planning, conning, fighting, and running, not even Murdock had enough energy to make a peep.
Through the blackness of the late night country road, the only light inside the van was the lazy green glow of the radio clock, slowly turning around early morning hours like an old man walking up stairs. Face and Murdock gave up to sleep hours ago; the youngest curled up tight in his chair while the Captain stretched with fingers laced over his ribs and favorite baseball cap pulled over his eyes.
Hannibal was thankful for the quiet. Sure, he was accustomed to hearing bombs and gunshots and all sorts of terrors, but that didn't mean he didn't like a good bout of quiet either. At the start of the night, he'd hoped to get some sleep since B.A. was adamit about driving. Over and over he alternated closing his eyes and puffing his cigar, a combination that usually sent him right off into Neverland. But tonight…
Every time his eyes peeled open, they shot straight to his second-youngest. B.A. had been scowling and irritable the whole trip, just like normal. He and Murdock had had at least three fights in as many days; one of which may have ended in a broken nose for the Captain had Hannibal not stepped in. This was all normal for the big man...so why couldn't Hannibal get past the nagging feeling that something was wrong?
At nearly 2am, the parental worry grinding at Hannibal's gut shoved him into action. B.A.'s expression was unusually pensive…like something heavy weighed upon his mind. "What's goin' on, big guy?"
Torn from his reverie, B.A. jumped at Hannibal's voice. Though it was barely over a whisper, it sounded to him like a scream over the silence in the air. "Huh?" he grunted in reply, trying to regain his driving focus.
"Everything alright? You don't seem yourself," Hannibal would never try to prod B.A. when Face or Murdock were listening. Of course they cared and they would always listen just as well as Hannibal but…it just didn't feel right. B.A. was a private man and seemed incapable of sharing his feelings to any crowd over one.
Sighing, B.A. shrugged. For a moment, he thought about making up some lame excuse to evade the Colonel's questions but then he remembered: even Face couldn't con Hannibal with a mask. "It's been a long couple weeks, Hannibal," his voice was deep, accent tired.
Hannibal nodded, holding an unlit cigar between his fingers. "Sure has. But! At least we got paid this time," he smirked toward the case filled with $150,000 cash.
B.A. tried to return the grin…he really did. But…
"Come on, B.A. What's wrong?" Hannibal's smile faded, replaced with a concerned frown.
B.A. hated it when Hannibal frowned. It was such a deep and unnatural thing. Another sigh. "I dunno, man…it's just…it's October 9th, man,"
Hannibal raised an eyebrow, hoping the silent question would be enough. It was.
"October 9th's the day my dad left my ma…" B.A. shook his head like he was at war with whether he should've spoken at all. "It's been 20 years, but Momma never forgets. She sends cookies. I send flowers," Hannibal didn't miss the shame coating B.A.'s voice. If the Sergeant's expression got any deeper, Hannibal swore he'd blend right in to the shadows.
The realization hit Hannibal before B.A. could even bring himself to admit it. They'd been on the run all week. The majority of today (technically, now, yesterday) was wasted skidding pavement and popping lead just getting away with their lives. B.A. never had a chance to send any flowers.
"Momma needs those flowers, Hannibal. She needs 'em and I let'er down."
Deep, heartfelt sadness warmed Hannibal's heart. On instinct, he reached over and squeezed B.A.'s shoulder with a rarely-ungloved hand. "You saved my life today, B.A. I know your mother will understand," Hannibal had met Ms. Baracas. Holding a grudge over her only child was simply not something she could do.
"I know, man, I know. That's what makes it worse," B.A.'s voice was tight in regret. Hannibal hadn't heard that tone since the incident in Nam that ended with B.A. holding the gun and some friendly wet-nosed kid with a shot through the leg. "She's done everythin' for me, Hannibal. I can't even send 'er flowers right on the day she needs 'em."
Hannibal kept his hand over B.A.'s shoulder. He was quiet for a while, chewing on that unlit cigar. Hannibal was a planner, a commander, and a fighter…not a father. Comforting words never came easy to him. But, just like a perfect plan in an armory with no guns, somehow the words always found themselves. "Where are we?"
"Wha'?" the question caught the big guy off guard. He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts, he nearly forgot he was driving. "Oh, umm…some ways outside'a St. Louis, I think."
"Good. Turn north."
B.A. did a double take. "Hannibal, whach'ya thinkin', man?"
Hannibal grinned. "I'm thinkin' Chicago's only about 300 miles from here," for a second, Hannibal relished the pure disbelief on B.A.'s face. It was like looking at a child, telling him that that bike he'd been wanting all year was waiting in his bedroom. "You've got'ta Momma who'd love to see her son, and Murdock's been dying for some of her pie. It's a win-win, big guy,"
B.A. was still reeling. "Wha' about Face? He's ain't gon'na be happy when he wakes up farther from home then we is now."
Hannibal chuckled. "He'll get over it. Come'on B.A., let's get turned around and see if we can't find an all-night flower shop on the way."
And suddenly B.A. was grinning; a big toothy grin with something akin to moisture in his eyes. "Aw, Hannibal, thank you, man. Really. I owe you big time, man."
Giving the boy's shoulder one last pat before bringing his arm back to rest on his chair, Hannibal matched the grin with cigar held in teeth. "We'll call it even. But you will owe me for playing defense on Murdock once we get there."
B.A. chuckled happily and Hannibal knew he'd done the right thing. Yeah, they'd be a day or so late getting home, but after war and running for some fifteen years, any delay was worth seeing his boys okay.
TBC
A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews are always appreciated. I'll post the second tomorrow, Friday. Your teaser: Murdock.
