Oh, momma, nobody calls me Scooter anymore!
Well, you'll always be Scooter to me. I don't care how much jewelry you wear.
- BA and Mrs. Baracus, "Lease With an Option to Die"
Chapter 5: Dark Reunion
Mrs. Adele Baracus puttered around in her kitchen. The scent of chocolate chip cookies filled the apartment. She flipped on a light within her oven and bent over to take a look through the window at the next batch of cookies, which were already starting to brown up. It was only going to be a few more moments before they were ready, although the smell emanating from them made them nearly irresistible.
Letting out a sigh, she straightened up and stretched, digging a fist into the small of her back to relieve the ache that started to grow. She looked around her apartment in approval.
She loved Christmas. Not only did the snow and Christmas lights transform the city into a sight to behold, but the preparations always delighted her. She loved to hang the lights and put up the tree with garland, tinsel and ornaments, buy and wrap gifts for her friends and neighbors. And, as always, there was her specialty . . . cooking goodies for anybody who would take them. She couldn't understand why some people couldn't see the season as a wonderful and happy time.
The normally sparse furnishings were gaily decked out for the holidays. Christmas cards sat upon the shelves that separated the living room from the kitchen, intermixed with the fine dishes and other knickknacks. A couple of vases also sat on those shelves, filled to overflowing with brilliant red poinsettias. A white cloth sat on top of the settee in the living room, in front of the windows, and on top of that sat nativity scene complete with gorgeous hand-painted figurines. A Christmas tree sat in the corner by the radiator, the lights winking and sparkling, setting the ornate glass ornaments and the gold garland practically aglow within the multi-colored light. Decorative figures of Santa Claus and snowmen were in various spots throughout the apartment, along with additional ornaments that never made it onto the tree.
The only thing she hated about Christmas was the fact that her son couldn't be there to share it with her. Watching Scooter's reaction to the presents and the decorations had always provided many happy memories for her, especially after the death of her husband almost twenty years ago. But, he couldn't be there with her . . . not with the military watching her apartment as they always did this time of year. At least, wherever he was, she knew that he was with his family . . . with Hannibal, Face, and Murdock.
Her gaze fell upon a gold wrapped present beneath her tree. As she looked at it, a smile appeared upon her face and her eyes became a bit misty. This Christmas was going to be even more splendid. After many years of spending the holidays alone, she finally had someone to share it with. Just that very thought caused her heart to practically overflow with happiness, especially during one of the most joyous times of the year.
The timer on the stove let out a soft ding, bringing Mrs. Baracus out of her reverie. Pulling on an oven mitt, she opened the door and was greeted with a blast of warm air. Reaching inside, she grabbed onto the cookie sheet and pulled it out, gently lifting it to sit on top of the burners on the stovetop itself. Another cookie sheet sat beside it, with round orbs of raw cookie dough ready for the baking. Once she had slid the other sheet onto the top of the stove, she grabbed onto the unbaked sheet and slid it into the oven.
The doorbell ringing drew her attention immediately. She quickly set the timer on the new batch of cookies and set down the oven mitt as shivers of excitement ran up and down her aging spine. Although there were no official plans, she knew that could only be one person at the door . . . and that thought caused her heart to nearly start palpitating. She removed the apron that was tied around her waist and draped it over the back of a kitchen chair before she rushed to the door.
A greeting was already on her lips as she grabbed the door knob and twisted it, pulling the door open. But, her brown eyes widened with surprise when she saw not the person she was expecting . . . but Santa Claus? Not just Santa, but an African American Santa who looked like he could have been a linebacker for the Chicago Bears without that red suit. But who in the world would dress up as Santa and visit her? Over his shoulder, she could see a tall Caucasian man, dressed in a green outfit to make him appear to look like one of Santa's elves.
She took a moment to study the elf's facial features as a confused look settled across her face. Who were these guys at her doorstep? It wasn't that she was about to turn anyone away during the holidays, but this was definitely a first for her. But, as she continued to look at the elf, she thought that she recognized him. It couldn't be . . . could it? But they were normally in Los Angeles . . .
Just at that moment, Santa reached up and pulled down the white beard. With a small smile upon his face, and a gentle tone, he greeted her, "Merry Christmas, Mama."
A look of complete shock formed across her face, rendering Adele Baracus speechless. She had to reach up and rub her eyes, almost as if she couldn't believe that she was seeing who she was standing in front of her. But, when they hadn't faded from view when she drew her hands away, her heart started beating rapidly with a tremendous amount of joy and happiness. She reached up to gently caress his cheek just to make sure that she wasn't dreaming. Once she realized that he was really there, she found it hard to hold back the tears as she threw herself into her son's arms while she exclaimed, "Scooter! It's you . . . you're actually here!"
"'Course it's me, Mama," he said, smiling shyly at her delight. In spite of the somber anniversary, he was really happy to see her so thrilled at his visit, although he knew that her spirits would brighten even more in just a few moments. "Who else would come ya bringin' gifts for Christmas?"
Mrs. Baracus paused for a moment. If he was actually here, then how did he get past the MPs? The costume? The Santa outfit did disguise him pretty well, and nobody would have thought about him wearing something like that . . . especially if they knew what his gruff personality was like. Did they even suspect that the Santa was him? Either way, she had to get him inside before any of them turned up knocking at her door. Pulling out of the embrace, she guided him inside her apartment and noticed the sack that he was carrying.
He went inside and immediately moved to the tree, putting the sack down and opening it up to pull out four beautifully wrapped gifts. He gently put them under the tree, and then looked back to the doorway, where his mother was still standing.
Adele put her hands to her face in delight as she finally recognized the man in the green elf costume. Her eyes twinkled with laughter at the sight of the green-clad man's awkwardness and very embarrassed look. She could tell that he obviously didn't like being in that get up, since the tights showed off almost everything. Thankfully the green top had enough flair at the bottom to cover up the most essential parts, but it still amused her to no end. She drew the pilot into an embrace, pretending not to notice his embarrassment with his outfit, as she told him with a tremendous amount of joy, "And Murdock! It's so nice to see you again. This is such a wonderful surprise! Come in, come in!"
"It's nice to see you too, Mrs. B," Murdock responded, not hesitating to take up her invitation to move inside once he had pulled away from her hug. The sooner he could get out of this ridiculous costume, the better. Normally, the Texan was one of the first ones to fully back up Hannibal's crazy plans . . . but it never had him wearing tights that showed off nearly every single curve and bulge below his waist! He quickly scurried over to the couch and pulled one of the accent pillows over his lap.
"But where'd you boys come from?" Mrs. Baracus asked as she closed the door behind her, puzzled as to how they suddenly showed up on her doorstep. From the last time that they had visited, she recalled Murdock saying something about how he'd love to fly BA anywhere, which meant that he was a pilot. Her Scooter, however, was such a wimp about flying that there was simply no way that they could have flown all this way to Chicago, could they? Scooter would have wanted to drive, but . . . if BA and Murdock were here, that brought to mind only one other question. Before they could answer how they got to Chicago, she wondered, "Where are Hannibal and Face?"
Almost as if on cue, before either the Sergeant or the Captain could reply, the doorbell rang again. The soft melodic chime filled the apartment, and BA watched his mother take a few steps and reach for the door handle once more. When it swung open, two figures stood in the doorway. One was an older man with grey hair, a hat, and wrap around sunglasses that covered his eyes. He had on a black, warm winter coat, leather gloves, and held onto a red white cane for the blind within his right hand. The person to his left was a woman with mottled gray hair, a blue jacket that was open, and wearing one of the ugliest gray dresses she had ever seen. It looked like it was worse than anything that'd come out of a thrift store. The muscular mechanic tried not to giggle at the sight of the two figures.
"Excuse me," she started to say, slightly flustered at the appearance of the two new visitors. She certainly hadn't expected her son and Murdock here at this time of year, and now for two total strangers to be standing there in front of her . . . an older couple by all appearances. Normally some of the others within the apartment complex might stop by to check on her including Karen, but she didn't recall an older couple living in the building that looked like this before. "Can I help you?"
Right at that moment, both figures pulled off their wigs, and the gentleman pulled off his sunglasses. Hannibal's twinkling blue eyes shone back at Mrs. Baracus and his silver-white hair was almost as bright as snow. Face's blue eyes met that of BA's mother, and his blonde hair practically seemed to glow, a vast contrast to the gray wig he had pulled off a few moments ago. They both grinned like Cheshire Cats as they said at the same time, "Merry Christmas, Mrs. B."
Adele Baracus felt the urge to giggle at the two of them, and urged, "Hannibal, Face! Come on in, make yourselves at home." She stood on the side to allow the two of them to enter into her apartment, and was rewarded with a small peck on the cheek from each of them. She closed the door and then laughed as she surveyed the four men in their ridiculous costumes. She couldn't believe that they managed to surprise her like this. This was turning into the most wonderful Christmas ever.
As Hannibal and Face moved into the living room, Murdock pushed the pillow on his lap off to the side and got up from his couch. Moving over to the Sergeant, he grabbed the bag that BA had carried in with him and discreetly snuck into the bathroom to change. Hannibal probably thought that it was funny, but wearing tights in the middle of winter in Chicago . . . the Texan shivered, remembering just how cold it was outside before he and BA had entered the apartment building. There was no way that the Colonel was going to get him back into that costume, which meant that they would just have to find another way out of the building and avoid the MPs.
Face noticed the pilot walk off and take the bag with him. Silently, the con artist cursed to himself and followed Murdock toward the bathroom, hoping to intercept him and have a chance to change first. He didn't want to spend another moment in this dreadful thing and wanted to get into some more civilized clothes as soon as he possibly could. When he found the bathroom he grabbed the door handle and tried to twist it, only to find that it was locked. Damn it! Murdock beat him inside. He knocked on the door and said, "Hurry up, Murdock! I gotta change too. I don't want anyone to think I've had a sex change. Think of how that would ruin my social life!"
Inside the bathroom, the pilot snickered as he continued to strip off the dreaded elf costume. With the way the Supply Officer sounded, one would tend to think that he wanted to use this opportunity to stop by Karen's apartment . . . the upstairs neighbor of Mrs. Baracus . . . and see if he could charm her into having dinner with him or something. "Hold onto your wig, Faceguy. I'll be out in a few minutes," he called back, deciding to change as slowly as he could to draw out Face's torment.
A short while later, everyone had changed and settled around the living room with warm cookies and milk. Mrs. Baracus had pulled out the last batch of the cookies a few moments prior, so the smell of freshly baked sweets permeated the air. The reunion with Mrs. B was like a homecoming, and she didn't hesitate to whip them up a meal. It had to have been a long flight to Chicago, so she was sure that they were all tired and hungry, and she wanted to make sure they all felt welcome.
Face and Murdock were busy in the kitchen helping Mrs B, which allowed Hannibal crystal blue eyes looked around the apartment. It was a habit of his, almost as if driven by pure instinct due to their many years on the run and needing to protect his men . . . surveying any room they were in for anything that could be quickly used if they had to escape from the MPs or local authorities, or for any possible dangers or information that might come in use later on. Although it had been several months since they were here last, something was bothering him. He couldn't put his finger on it, though.
His gaze fell upon the entertainment center along the wall. That hadn't been there the last time they were in Chicago and had helped Mrs. B from being run out from her apartment by some scum. In fact, it looked brand new . . . not just the cabinet, but the television, VCR, and the stereo that sat within it. Mrs B didn't have a lot of money, so how in the world could she have afforded something like this on her own? He continued to look around and his trained eyes began to find other things that didn't fit in with the modest surroundings . . . a fancy cuckoo clock on the wall, an expensive crystal vase with a dozen roses in it sitting on the table, a landscape painting in an ornate gold frame. Something was starting to click, although he wasn't quite sure what it added up to yet.
The Colonel looked to BA to see if he was also noticing the same thing. He found the muscular Sergeant crouched down by the Christmas tree, examining a gold wrapped present that hadn't been among the gifts they had brought. It had to have been there prior to their arrival . . . but who else would have brought a present by for Mrs. Baracus?
Although the Supply Officer and the pilot were busy helping Mrs. B, BA was doing a little checking of his own. He had noticed the present that had been under the tree at the time of their arrival and had picked it up. He examined it closely . . . not daring to open it, but more so to try and figure out who had brought his Mama such a beautifully wrapped gift. Even the gold wrapping, ribbon, and bow seemed to indicate that the gifter spared no expense for Mrs. Baracus.
There it was! He found a tag with a hand written note, which hopefully would reveal the identity of the person who had given it to his mother. His eyes narrowed as saw that it read, 'My dearest Addie, Merry Christmas. Love, Spencer.' Seeing that note was enough to cause some major suspicions. Standing up he walked over and joined Hannibal on the couch as he asked curiously, "Mama, who's this Spencer guy?"
The Colonel turned, his eyes flicked to Mrs. B to see how she would react to BA's question. Her entire face practically lit up at the mention of Spencer's name, which he found to be very unusual.
"Oh, that's from Spencer Jackson," she answered casually as she walked out from the kitchen with a serving dish that had a large stack of sandwiches on it. She placed it down on the table in the dining area, her sparkling eyes betraying how much she liked the man that she spoke about. "He's the one I started to work for a couple of weeks ago when I got that new job as a secretary at the Museum of Science and Industry."
"New job?" BA asked, his voice clearly indicating his confusion. For as long as he could remember, his mother volunteered at the Museum, donating her time to helping the children that visited the popular place grow and learn. It was this dedication that had fostered BA's love for children, and his subsequent work in youth and daycare centers. "I thought you volunteered in the Imagination Station, with the kids."
"Oh, I still do," Adele responded. A small, sweet smile appeared upon her lips as she remembered the way he had waltzed into her life and how things had developed since then. She turned to see Face and Murdock emerge from the kitchen, each bearing their own serving dishes with food, and placed them on the table. She looked back at her son and continued, "In fact, it was my work there that caught Spencer's attention. He offered to let me work in his office part time, and spend the rest of the time with the kids. I thought I could use the money, so I said yes."
Templeton Peck immediately picked upon the looks between Hannibal and BA, who were standing at various spots around the room. Whatever was going on, they were obviously concerned and it likely had something to do with the gold gift that was under the tree he had seen earlier, before he changed into more presentable clothes. Instinctively, he knew he had to jump into the fray and try to ask a few questions himself to divert things. If Mrs. B was anything like BA, she was going to get riled up and he didn't need to have her take it out on Hannibal or BA. Grabbing a sandwich from the plate, he walked over to sit on the couch and asked, "So, how did you meet this guy?"
"I actually stood up for him a few months when one of the employees was complaining about him to the Museum President. The poor man might have lost his job, and not that far off before Thanksgiving and Christmas. He's such a sweet fellow, and so pleasant to work for," she explained. Her tone wasn't as joyful as it was a few moments ago, even though she explained what was going on. What she didn't understand was why the others started asking her about Spencer. Then again, they hadn't had a chance to meet him yet, and she really wanted to prove to them that he was everything that she needed in her life.
Murdock wandered over to the entertainment center and examined it, admiring the size of the television which was pretty big for the size apartment she owned. He also noted the VCR to record programs . . . this wasn't one of the double units that had a side that could also be used with a video camera and the other for a tuner, but one of the newer models that integrated everything into a single rectangular box. Even the stereo seemed to be pretty expensive, with several components to it and a number of speakers designed to enhance the sound from not only any radio stations or cassettes that were played, but also for anything watched through the TV and VCR as well. For the pilot, this was the type of set up he'd die to have back in his room at the VA. "How about this here entertainment set up, Mrs. B?" he asked innocently.
"Spencer got me that," she answered hastily, almost to the point of getting defensive. Although she didn't show it in her mannerisms or the expression on her face, she was starting to get a bit upset by all of these questions. "He bought me that lovely television and entertainment center as a gift to say thank you after I helped him out with that employee. I told him it wasn't necessary, but he insisted."
Hannibal moved over to examine the cuckoo clock. Every internal alarm bell was ringing at this point, and he hadn't even met the guy in person yet. Why would a man give a woman he had just met such obviously expensive gifs? One thing the Colonel knew was that if women were emotionally attached to someone or something, and you pushed them hard enough, they'd push back in their own way . . . usually first by getting defensive, then angry, and then finally throwing them out on their rear ends. Keeping his voice neutral, he stared intently at the clock for another moment before asking, "I noticed this is new too. Did he give you this as well?"
Mrs B nodded, grabbing a sandwich and stepping away from the table to give the others a chance to get some food. Why they hadn't moved to grab a sandwich or something already had mystified her, especially if they had flown all this way and probably hadn't gotten anything to eat. "He has a lot of money, and he is ever so generous. He says that he likes to give nice things away to people he likes," she explained, hoping that what she said would be good enough for them.
BA had enough. Just like Hannibal, he was growing increasingly suspicious about all of this, and he wasn't liking what he saw for one minute. He hadn't even met the guy, and the anger inside of him welled up to the point where he was like a volcano, ready to explode. "Mama," he spoke up. "You don't even know this guy and he's givin' you stuff like this."
"I do know him," she shot back defensively, putting down her sandwich and putting her hands on her hips. She glared sternly at her son with the accusations that he made against Spencer, as well as the rest of the A-Team. "He's a very sweet man. We started to see a lot of each other since he offered me a job in his division and I really like him. Besides, I am a grown woman. I know how to be careful about who I see."
BA exchanged a guilty look with Hannibal before putting the gold wrapped present back under the tree. It was true, though . . . he hadn't seen his mother like this since before his father died twenty years before. Maybe this guy, Spencer, would be good for her. For the moment, he ignored the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach, firmly believing that his Mama was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. "I'm sorry, Mama," he told her solemnly. "It's nice to see you so happy again."
Hannibal moved over to the table and grabbed one of the sandwiches, and then moved back over to the couch, where he sat down next to Face. They knew that they had hit a sore spot with her, so it was going to be like walking on eggshells for a bit. Mrs. Baracus could still be very feisty for a woman of her age, and it was obvious from the way she had started to respond to their continued questioning.
An uneasy silence settled over the apartment, which was shattered by the sound of the doorbell. The heads of all four men jerked sharply toward the door, before turning questioningly toward Mrs. Baracus. Was the person at the door Karen or another neighbor within the apartment complex? Or could it be someone else entirely? The MPs checking up on her, perhaps? Instinctively, Hannibal was about to order his men to scatter and find a place to hide within the apartment until Mrs. B could get rid of whoever was out there, but she had swiftly made her way over and opened the door before any of the men could move.
As it swung open, they were treated with the sight of the man who stood outside the doorway. He was a tall African American, dressed smartly in an expensive grey suit, white button down shirt, and a red tie. Even his shoes looked polished and expensive. His hair was oiled back, and he sported a well groomed mustache and beard. The grey in his hair indicated that he was right around Mrs. B's age, or perhaps just very slightly younger.
"Spencer," Mrs. B said breathlessly as a huge smile appeared upon her lips.
The man smiled and greeted her with a deep and passionate kiss upon her lips, which caused her to practically melt into his arms. They continued to kiss for what seemed like forever until he broke it and handed her a bouquet of a dozen red roses. "These are for you, my love," he told her in his deep baritone voice, flashing her a smile that showed off his pearly white teeth.
"Oh, Spencer, they're beautiful!" she exclaimed joyfully, the questions that had been levied at her a few moments ago by her son and her friends totally forgotten from her mind. She brought the roses up to her nose and breathed in their rich scent before turning to head into the apartment. "I better get them into water. I'll use that crystal vase you got me last week," she told him. She grabbed the vase from the shelf and walked into the kitchen. Holding the vase under the faucet, she turned it on and watched the water flow into it.
While she worked to put the roses into a vase and made sure they had fresh water, Spencer Jackson stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind him. When he turned back around, he noticed the eyes of the four other occupants, seated and standing around the living room, looking straight at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, Addie, I didn't know you had company," he noted, his tone of voice making it sound more like an inconvenience rather than an apology.
Hannibal regarded the appearance of Mr. Spencer Jackson carefully. Even though his voice and appearance were cultured and well bred, the easy going Colonel disliked him immediately. Or perhaps it was because of those qualities, making him seem too much like a mask to hide his true intentions. He looked to be too similar to the greasy slimeballs that the Team dealt with on a regular basis. In fact, he didn't even look the slightest bit repentant of the interruption . . . just curious as to who he and the others were that she had in her home as guests.
Face glanced over to BA and Murdock for a moment, and then returned his gaze to Mrs. B's new visitor. Was this the guy that Mrs. Baracus had been talking about? The Lieutenant appraised the expensive clothing that Spencer wore. The suit . . . clearly an Armani due to how well it was tailored. The shoes, well based on the design they had to be Gucci. The shine on the shoes was almost like a mirror to where you could practically see your reflection off of them. Even the tie seemed to be hand crafted and made of the finest silks, likely exported from Israel. Clearly this guy took pride in his appearance to where he could fit into most of the high society circles that Face tried to insert himself into, but was it just due to his nature, or was there something more behind it?
Murdock immediately picked up on the uneasiness from the others and also looked at Mrs. B's visitor. His training made him highly alert to body language and other things that allowed him to easily read into another person. This helped the normally fun loving pilot to be a pretty good and instinctual judge of character, and it wasn't often that his first impression . . . his first read of a person was wrong. He had observed Spencer's stance, his gait, and the way he had kissed BA's mother . . . and all of it gave him some very bad vibes, setting him on high alert around this guy. He just hoped and prayed that Mrs. B wouldn't get hurt in all of this.
BA was practically seeing red, and it wasn't from the Santa costume that he wore in order to gain access to the apartment complex. Like with the others, every alarm bell was ringing loudly for him, causing him to scowl darkly at the man his mother was infatuated with. What concerned him even more was the nickname. Nobody had ever called his Mama, 'Addie,' not even his father, who he remembered to have always been very respectful of his mother. His eyes narrowed at the man, not liking any of this one bit.
Returning from the kitchen with the clear crystal vase, filled with roses and water at the bottom of it, she set it on the table next to the other one and then walked over to Spencer. She was totally oblivious as to the assessment the A-Team had made of her new beau as she wrapped her arm around his. "No, no, you're not interrupting anything," she hurriedly told him, hoping that he wouldn't want to leave right away. Gently guiding him into the living room, she smiled at him and then turned to the others, "Spencer, I want you to meet my son. This is Bosco, and these are his friends that flew in with him."
Although Mrs. Baracus didn't tell him the rest of their names, Hannibal's thoughts were dark as he considered the consequences. If Spencer Jackson was in a notable position, he likely had access to information. And it wouldn't take much checking at all to discover who they really were. In all of the years with the MPs hanging around during Christmas and other important dates, Mrs. B should have known better . . . either that, or this guy was clouding her senses.