It was a cow, a definite moo, exactly as I saw it in my mind. And don't try and make me feel any better, Face. I know I'm supposed to have a zany fantasy life, but I have never had anything jump out of the woodwork and give milk like that. It was scary. I've encountered destiny.

- Murdock, "The Maltese Cow"

Chapter 10: Chicks and Fairies

"So . . . now I work part time here, and still volunteer at the Imagination Station," Mrs. B explained as she sat in the comfortable leather chair behind her desk. A gentle smile appeared upon her face, practically causing it to light up in much the same way that Hannibal's eyes twinkled when he was on the Jazz. It was very clear that she enjoyed her job and still being able to volunteer her time and be around kids. "I just love working with the kids, but it's nice to have a real job so I don't have to rely on what little I get from Social Security."

Hannibal sat casually on a corner of the desk and smiled at the elderly woman. He lightly fingered the bright red leaves on the poinsettia plant as Mrs. B finished telling the whole story of how she had met Spencer and came to work in his office within the Museum. Had it been anyone else romantically involved with BA's mother who hadn't showered her with expensive gifts and set off all of the alarm bells with their instincts, they likely wouldn't have given it a second thought.

The Colonel glanced at the door leading into the inner office, and then twisted his left wrist to look at the face of his watch to check the time. It had been about ten minutes since BA had gone in there to make the phone call. It was taking a bit too long, even for the comfort of the strategist. Although he knew the phone call was legit, he hoped that the Sergeant hadn't encountered any problems with finding places to plant the bugs.

Standing up, he was about to walk over and check on BA's progress when the door to the outer hallway opened. Spencer Jackson casually walked in, taking three steps into the office where Mrs. B did her work before he noticed their presence and came to an abrupt halt. His dark eyes narrowed as he stared at Hannibal for a moment in what almost seemed like a battle of wills. A flash of annoyance mixed with something else appeared upon his face before he changed his focus to Adele Baracus.

"Addie," Spencer began to state, clearly trying to make the tone of his voice sound as warm as he possibly could. A smile appeared upon his lips that was clearly forced, and although the look of annoyance faded as he looked at BA's mother, it was replaced by what seemed to be the appropriate amount of curiosity. "What are you doing here? I thought this was your day off."

"Oh, it is," Mrs. Baracus responded enthusiastically, her entire face lighting up at the sight of her boss. She didn't expect to see him back so soon, especially since his whole day was supposed to have been filled with important meetings about shipments, and security arrangements for an upcoming event. "Scooter hasn't been her in ages, and the other boys wanted to see the Museum and where I work."

Spencer's dark eyes darted once around the room, before settling back on Mrs. Baracus and Hannibal. She had mentioned the others, but it was only her and the older of the four men with her. "But where is your son? And weren't there two others as well?" he asked, sounding a bit skeptical.

"Oh, Face and Murdock went to look at the Chick Hatchery," she began to explain, not thinking too much of it as she divulged their names. She didn't see the potential harm in it, especially since Spencer had already met them the day before and nothing happened. "Scooter had to make a private phone call, and since you weren't here, I told him he could use the phone in your office."

Hannibal studied Spencer closely to see what the man's reaction was going to be to that bit of information. The security chief's smile faded, and the Colonel thought he saw a look within his eyes. A hint of anger? Maybe even a tinge panic? The cunning strategist was more convinced than ever that the man was hiding something, which made it that much more important that they get to the bottom of this before Mrs. B got swept up into something that would ultimately hurt her.

Right at that moment, the door to Spencer's office swung open and BA emerged from it. He took a couple of lumbering steps into his Mama's office and stopped the second he saw the man that was buying her affections. His face skewed into a scowl of obvious dislike, and there was an air of tension as the two men stared at each other for a moment. The Sergeant was the first one to look away as he glanced toward his mother and told her gently, "I'm done with my phone call, Mama."

"Mrs. Baracus," Spencer started with stiff formality in his voice . . . so stiff that he noticed her flinch a bit due to the fact that he didn't use her first name at all. He noticed the reaction from the muscular man that learned to be her son, who emitted a low growl of warning. The flash of annoyance was back, along with the glint of anger within his eyes. Easing his tone a bit, he affirmed, "Addie, you know that I don't like people in my office if I'm not there."

Mrs. B's eyes widened at the tone that Spencer had used with her. He had never so much as raised his voice to her in the past, or gotten angry or upset with her, which really caught her off guard. It hurt her deeply that he didn't trust her with letting someone use his phone, and it showed in her expression. "I . . . I didn't think you would mind. He needed a quiet place to make a phone call and . . ." she tried to explain weakly, her voice trailing off as she tried to keep herself from rambling.

"Hey man, it was just a phone call," BA shot back angrily before letting out a low, rolling growl that almost seemed to reverberate off the walls. His muscles bunched up almost as if he was expecting some kind of a physical fight of some kind. He didn't like the way this sucka was talking to his Mama, and he certainly didn't like the look of hurt that had appeared on her face.

Sensing what was about to happen, Hannibal stepped forward and placed a restraining hand on BA's shoulder. He knew that he had to step in and diffuse the situation before more information was revealed than he wanted, or before someone was physically hurt. "We apologize if there has been any inconvenience, Mr. Jackson," the A-Team's leader said in smooth and measured tones, trying to be polite and professional without invoking any emotion. "We didn't mean any harm, and we certainly didn't want to get Mrs. Baracus into trouble."

Spencer took his eyes off of BA for a moment and looked again at Mrs. B. Upon seeing the hurt expression on her face, he let out a sigh and relaxed slightly. Although a small smile touched his lips once more when he looked at her, the glint of anger had not left his eyes. It was very clear that he wasn't happy that someone had intruded into his office. "I'm sorry, Addie. I shouldn't have gotten so excited," he apologized to her, trying to sound genuine and sincere. He then turned and studied Hannibal for a moment, almost as if trying to see something more there than was right in front of his nose. After a moment, he gave the Colonel a minimal nod and expressed somewhat stiffly, "I hope you enjoy your time at the Museum."

"I'm sure we will," Hannibal responded, his ice blue eyes never once leaving Spencer's face as he studied it for his reaction. There was something about that whole exchanged from the Director of Exhibits and Security that unnerved him. Their gazes locked for a moment, before Spencer shifted closer to the door to allow the rest of them to pass.

Hannibal watched as Mrs. Baracus stood from behind her desk and BA quickly moved to her side. He heard the Sergeant say something softly to her as he guided her out of the office. The silver-white haired leader pulled a cigar out of the breast pocket of his safari jacket and stuck it between his teeth, but didn't light it. He moved to the door and gave one more lingering glance back at Mrs. B's boss before closing the door behind him. Once he had done so, he found himself hoping that Face's contacts got back to him soon with the information on Spencer Jackson . . .

"C'mon, Murdock," Face pleaded with a bit of exaggeration as he watched the pilot move along the inner walkway of the two tiered observation area. If Murdock had been able to get any closer, he would have likely plastered his nose against the glass that contained the massive miniature castle and all of the ornate decorations inside just to get a better look. "Hannibal, BA, and Mrs. B are going to be waiting for us, and we still need to find the Chick Hatchery."

His patience was beyond exhausted with the enthusiastic Texan, who went to each handset and held it to his ear as he listened to the automated recordings detail the story behind each room of the famous Colleen Moore Fairy Castle. Truthfully, while Murdock was totally and completely fascinated with the highly decorated display, which had exquisite rooms with items pertaining to various stories like Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, King Arthur, Robinson Crusoe, and more, Templeton Peck was just plain bored.

The con artist did have some grudging admiration for the beauty of the miniatures, including the fine details that were put into each room. Apparently, the castle contained artwork that was hand-painted by Walt Disney himself, miniature books including the bible that was complete and readable with a magnifying glass, along with numerous pearls, diamonds, emeralds, and other precious stones. He had already calculated what the whole castle was worth . . . twice . . . and it didn't even come close to the dollar figure that he would have liked to have gotten for it if he had tried to sell it to some poor unwitting sap. He got more for trying to sell the Brooklyn Bridge than he would have gotten for this thing.

Now, if it was a real castle that he could have lived in, then that would have been a whole other story all together. It would have well fit into the life of luxury and high-class society that he often tried to project.

Murdock completely ignored the Lieutenant as he stared at the Magic Garden, taking in the bas relief retelling of the Wizard of Oz, the story of Don Quixote that was etched on a balcony, and Aladdin and his magic lamp set in stone above an archway. A highly detailed and ornate gold carriage sat near one of the entrances within the garden, looking as if it had just brought Cinderella to the ball. On the weeping willow tree near the gate was a small basket, inlaid in gold with pearls, which caught his warm brown eyes. It swayed softly, almost as if rocking on the breeze, and seemed to give off a very soft glow. "There's another one, Face! I told you there were fairies here," he triumphantly exclaimed as he pointed to tiny fairy baby basket.

"Murdock, there are no . . ." the con man groaned, clearly frustrated. When Murdock became obsessed with something, it was hard to get the pilot to back off that insistence. He recalled when the crazed man became insistent that he kept seeing a jade cow within his dreams . . . and then ultimately he did see one! It had been actually a worthless item, but it contained a microfilm that was being smuggled into the states by a returning criminal. Well, Face was going to have to take matters into his own hands, especially if they were going to get out of the darkened exhibit room anytime soon. He grabbed onto the Texan's prized leather jacket and pulled him out of the room and away from the dimly lit castle.

"But . . . but . . . but . . . I haven't looked at Cinderella's drawing room yet! We gotta see that before we leave," Murdock protested, twisting and turning his wry body to try and pull his jacket out of Face's grip. Once he had managed to wrangle his jacket free in the hallway, he stood up straight up and adjusted the black shirt that he wore. On the front of it was a green package with a red ribbon and bow, and red lettering over it that said "Nice Package." With his shirt straightened out, he then grabbed the fabric at the bottom of his bomber jacket and also straightened that up too. His warm brown eyes flashed a look of dismay at his friend for being pulled way before he could fully explore every inch of that exhibit.

"You can see that later. Right now, we have to meet up with Hannibal, BA and Mrs. B," he reminded his friend. After the talk he and Hannibal had earlier, the last thing he needed was for the two of them to not rendezvous with others. Failing to meet up would not only gain the Colonel's ire, but also disappoint BA's mother. And if Mrs. Baracus was disappointed, well, that would mean that BA would get upset . . . and Face shuddered to think of what BA would do to the two of them if he got upset, especially him since between himself and Murdock, Face was supposed to be the more responsible of the pair.

He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a map of the Museum that he had thankfully thought of grabbing from the information desk when they came in. "Now, where are we?" he asked as he glanced at the map.

Murdock moved closer and glanced at the map over his shoulder. He reached forth with a long finger and pointed out their exact location on the floor plan of the Museum and the various exhibits there was to see. "We're right here, Face," the Texan mentioned.

Templeton Peck rolled his eyes a bit. The question was meant to be rhetorical, not an indication that he couldn't read a simple map such as this. As he studied it a bit more, he found the location of the Chick Hatchery . . . but, in order to get there, they needed to go past the Paul Bunyan Cabin and up the red staircase. By taking that route, they could avoid all of the Christmas trees on the main floor.

"Come on, Murdock, let's go," he said, folding up the map and sticking it back into his pocket. He just hoped the pilot wouldn't get too distracted by other exhibits along the way . . .

Fifteen minutes and two wrong turns later, Face and Murdock arrived in the Genetics exhibit where the Chick Hatchery was located. In spite of the extra bit of time that it took them to get to where they were going to meet up with the others, he found himself admiring the large Museum. It was certainly one of the most interesting ones he had visited in some time, and certainly had more than enough things to see and do to appeal to all ages.

This particular area had a number of displays set up around the room, all apparently designed to educate guests about DNA and the building blocks of life. It also touched upon some science fiction topics like cloning, which was something scientists were working to develop but was still years away. As he looked around, he noted that there weren't very many people in this area, likely due to the fact that there was less than an hour before the Museum was scheduled to close. What few people were present had gathered around a rectangular station set near the back of the room, near a hallway that would lead back to the train and transportation section.

Face spotted Mrs. B, Hannibal and BA standing near that rectangular display. He nudged Murdock to follow him, and then wove his way around some of the displays to join his friends. One thing he noted immediately, as he approached, was the atmosphere surrounding that particular display within the exhibit. It almost seemed to call for silence with how everyone was looking at it, and hardly anyone said a word. He walked up next to Hannibal and quietly apologized, "Sorry we're late. Murdock was chasing fairies."

"I was not chasing fairies," Murdock shot back. He turned to look at Face with an incredulous look over the fact that he would tell the Colonel, Mrs. B, and BA something like that. Although the muscular Sergeant hadn't threatened to pound him yet today as he regularly did, probably because of being around his mother, he didn't want to give him much of a reason to put him in a world of hurt. "I was . . ."

Hannibal held a single finger up to his mouth and shushed the pilot, not taking his eyes off what was going on inside of the glass on the display. His crystal blue eyes seemed to practically sparkle almost as if he was on the Jazz, although his mind wasn't brewing up new plans at that exact second. It was more due to the miracle that was about to take place before their very eyes.

"It's almost out," Mrs. B whispered, her voice filled with anticipation of what was about to happen.

Face looked at the rectangular display and the glass that covered it. Inside the glass was a metal grid, divided in half, in order to form two square compartments. On one side were a number of small, yellow, furballs that seemed to draw the attention of the kids that were there. A couple of them tapped on the glass, and the yellow tufts of fur practically flocked to their little fingers, stopped only by the clear covering.

On the other side, resting on the grid, were a number of eggs. Eggs? That is what Hannibal and Mrs. B wanted to see? A bunch of ordinary eggs? What was so special about a bunch of eggs? And why did Mrs. B said that it . . . whatever it was . . . was almost out? The talented con artist glanced back to Hannibal with an expression of disbelief on his face at the fact that they wanted to come and look at something like this.

Seeing the look on the Lieutenant's face, the Colonel grinned. Knowing Face as he did, the con artist was probably disappointed that the display wasn't devoted to lots of beautiful women in bikinis. With a small, soft chuckle, he stepped aside to give his second in command a closer view. There was a reason why he wanted the younger man to see this display . . . a deeper meaning, related to their conversation they had earlier at the Yesterday's Main Street exhibit. He just hoped that, by seeing this, Face would eventually make the connection himself and understand.

The blonde-haired Lieutenant moved closer to the glass on the side that contained the eggs. As he knelt down on one knee, he noticed three little creatures laying on the grid. Their tiny eyes occasionally opened and closed, and they looked to be exhausted. Their bodies were splayed out, flat on the metal surface, although there was the rhythmic rising and falling as they drew in each breath of life.

As he continued to look inside, he noticed that one of the eggs had become the focus of attention. It had a number of sharp cracks in the shell, and seemed to be rocking as whatever was inside fought to get out . . . to be free of its confinement. His blue eyes watched as a large piece of the shell broke off, revealing a tiny beak and a little head covered with wet, yellow fuzz.

He put one hand on the glass as he moved in closer until his nose was almost touching the cold material. Growing up in a large city, especially within an orphanage, he had never been around farm animals. As a little kid, he thought that milk and eggs were manufactured somehow and came from a grocery store or could be found in the refrigerator. Later he learned where it came from, but he had never witnessed the birth of such a tiny, but perfect animal . . . until now.

"No matter how many times I see it, it still amazes me how such a little creature, trapped in that shell, wants to live so much that it will peck until it is exhausted . . . just to get out," Mrs. Baracus noted softly. Her eyes practically shimmered at the sight before her, taking in the wonderment of it all.

Face continued to watch as the small creature, having accomplished such a major feat, rested for a few moments before using its beak to attack the rest of the shell with renewed vigor. It was almost as if it seemed to sense that freedom was near. In spite of his first reaction upon seeing it, he found himself fascinated by what was playing out before his blue eyes.

He was so focused that he hardly noticed Murdock next to him. He, too, was pressed up as close to the glass as possible to be able to see more clearly with his warm, brown eyes. Growing up in rural Texas, the pilot had seen plenty of chickens and watched as eggs hatched . . . but this was something he had always loved seeing since it was pure and innocent. No matter what troubles he was facing as he grew up, watching the birth of such a tiny little helpless creature always helped to remind him that there were things more important in life, and others out there that needed to be protected and looked after. A huge smile filled his face, and he found himself silently rooting inside for the tiny little animal that was working to break free.

Hannibal grinned as he watched the two men, especially Face. It was worth all the rest of the day combined just to see the look on the Lieutenant's face as the chick broke free of its shell and stumbled on wobbly legs out onto the metal grid. It took a few short steps and collapsed onto the surface, clearly exhausted from the effort to free itself from its prison. The yellow fuzz that was plastered to its body was already starting to dry, which would form a thick, soft down that would turn into feathers later.

He glanced over to BA, who had an arm around his mother, as they also watched the chick emerge from the egg. He held up his left wrist and glanced at the watch face on the inside of it as he noticed the time. He hated interrupting the moment, but time was going by quickly. "C'mon, guys. If we want to see the Coal Mine before the Museum closes, we'd better get over there."

Mrs. Baracus looked down at her diamond crusted watch, which had been a gift from Spencer, and her eyes widened. "My goodness, yes! I didn't realize how late it was. We'd better hurry," she urged, before walking with her son toward the grand rotunda. She looked back and watched Face and Murdock reluctantly pull themselves away from the display and follow after them. Once they caught up, she mentioned, "Just wait until we're done here. We can find something to eat, and then there's somewhere I want to take you boys. It'll be a wonderful way to end the day. You'll love it!"

"What is it, Mama?" BA asked curiously, wondering what she had in mind.

Adele Baracus gave a knowing, yet mysterious smile as she led the group to the last exhibit they were going to visit for the day. "Just wait, Scooter. You and the rest of your A-Team are gonna love it," she noted in a light tone.

Templeton Peck took one last look back at the Chick Hatchery before they rounded the corner and left the Genetics exhibit. He wasn't sure what kind of a surprise Mrs. B could pull out of her sleeve that could possibly match what he had just seen . . .