Chapter 3

I rushed around the kitchen and nearly tripped over Trigger, who was frantically trying to keep up with my every step. It was the morning after I had arrived home from L.A., and I had already called Hannibal and told him they could come to the house. Having spent time with them on the road, I knew they weren't super clean and organized, but Mom had always taught me that didn't matter - you put in an effort to make your home comfortable and clean no matter what. I snagged the dishrag off the sink edge and refreshed it under hot water, before deftly giving the kitchen table a swipe. Half-folding the rag before tossing it over the sink edge from whence it came, I gathered the clean dishes from the drainer and began rapidly shoving them into in their proper places.

An annoyed gruff bark from Trigger reminded me I had forgotten something...

"Oops! Sorry boy..."

I kicked his food dish ahead of me to the bag of dog food, then scooped out a good size portion into the dish for him to devour. I straightened and glanced at the clock, then surveyed the kitchen, looking for any other obvious messes to be cleaned or straightened. I had slept longer than I intended to, but had managed to get the kitchen in somewhat of an order. One week alone in the house and my grandfather had managed to make it look like a year's worth of bachelor living.

The steady hum of an approaching vehicle caught my ear, and I assumed it was the guys.

Coffee. I forgot to make coffee!

Spinning around, I stepped over Trigger to get to the coffee maker to the right of the sink. Not taking the time to measure out the grounds, I just dumped what looked right into the filter and then poured water in the back, using the pot to do so. Just as I closed it up and pushed the start button I heard the approaching vehicle stop in front of the house and the engine noise cease. My hands snatched random mugs from the cupboard above to set out.

"Grandpa! They're here!"

I yelled in the direction of the living room, and then heard the sound of Grandpa's recliner closing up. A moment later he emerged around the corner and stopped by the coffee pot, looking hungrily at it even though I knew he had probably drank a whole pot already before sunup. Hearing a sharp, repetitive knock at the door, I hurried to open it, shushing Trigger and commanding him to sit and wait in the kitchen. When I answered the door, only Hannibal and B.A. stood outside, and Face and Murdock nowhere to be seen.

"Good morning. May we come in?" Hannibal asked politely.

"Good morning! Of course. Where's the others?" I asked as they entered.

"Face and Murdock went to pick up Amy at the airport. She's our representative with the world, a reporter for the L.A. Courier. She gets us information when we need it, and she writes good things about us that lots of people read. Tries to give us a good reputation."

"Amy..." The name struck a familiar chord in my memories. "... Amy Allen? That's it! I've seen her name on the articles about you guys that Mom saved in the last couple years. Wow! She's coming here?!"

Hannibal grinned crookedly at my enthusiasm.

"Well, we figured her investigating skills could be useful to help find your father."

"Thank you so much!" I could have hugged him right then but I restrained myself, and instead motioned them through the entry and into the kitchen. "I have coffee brewing, should be done soon. Come meet my grandfather. We have a German Shepherd too, but he's well-trained and he'll get used to you quick."

I tried to remind myself not to ramble in my excitement as I led the two men into the kitchen. Trigger stood up and let out a low growl, unsure what to make of the strange men.

"Easy Trig, they're friends."

Trigger looked at me, then politely wagged at Hannibal and B.A. but kept his distance while sniffing their scent through the air. My grandpa seemed equally wary of them, but also willing to be polite.

"Hello there, I'm John Finnegan, Mae's grandfather. You must be the A-Team."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Finnegan." Hannibal said politely. "I'm Hannibal, this is B.A.. There are two more of us, but they went to get a friend of ours from the airport and some donuts. We didn't want to eat you out of house and home so early in the morning."

I smiled, knowing Hannibal was being extra respectful to Grandpa since he knew my old man was never fond of the outlaws for hire. Grandpa still looked apprehensive about the idea of the A-Team in his kitchen, but just nodded at Hannibal and motioned for them to help themselves to coffee. I sat on our kitchen stool while the guys poured themselves cups, then Hannibal began questioning me about their mission.

"So kid, do you have a name for your father, a last known residence, place he worked...?"

I shook my head sadly.

"Not really. Mom never told me much about him. She said I wasn't old enough to know. I think she didn't want me trying to find him before I was ready. But she didn't plan on... on... the accident."

"So any clues about your daddy ended with her," B.A. said gently with kind eyes, holding on to his cup with both bejeweled hands. I looked at him in appreciation.

"Yeah. And like I said, for some reason he stopped writing Mom back during the Vietnam War, and she never knew why. She believed he was still alive, and she waited for him to return. She found out she was pregnant a while after he had left for the Army, but she never told him because she wanted to surprise him when he got home."

"Do you have the letters he wrote your mom?" Hannibal asked, sipping his coffee.

"No. Mom never showed them to me. She only told me bits of what he wrote here and there. I've looked but never found the letters either."

I was feeling worse by the minute that there was literally nothing to go on for the A-Team to use to find my father, and it must have shown on my face. Hannibal reached out and placed a hand on my shoulder, causing me to raise my eyes to his.

"Don't worry Mae. We'll do the best we can."

"Yeah." B.A. concurred, stepping closer. "Don't give up so soon, mama."

I felt warm fur under my hand and looked down to see Trigger had layed his head on my lap, and I was suprised he had allowed Hannibal to touch me, since he was a stranger. I always knew my dog was a good judge of character though, and the sign that he trusted Hannibal as a person gave me more comfort.

"You really think you can find her dad?" Grandpa asked, clearing his throat. I could tell he was trying to cover the fact that he had teared up slightly. My grandpa was a tough old codger, but a tender one, and when it came to me he showed emotion more than usual. Hannibal nodded and shrugged in a nonchelant manner with a boysish grin.

"We just need a plan!"

A light knock on the front door alerted Trigger, who gave a warning bark to whomever was outside. He looked at me expectantly.

"Probably just the rest of them, Trig."

"I'll get it." Hannibal offered, walking to the door and opening it to reveal Faceman, Murdock, and a younger middle-aged woman in suit pants, button-up blouse, and a light scarf tied loosely around her neck. Her wavy brown hair was shoulder length and layed nicely, but she had an air of ease about her, like suddenly jumping up from her desk job and flying across the country didn't phase her at all.

"Mae, meet Miss Amy Allen." Face introduced us.

Amy smiled at me and extended her hand.

"It's nice to meet you, Miss Finnegan. When the guys told me about your search, I knew I had to come help."

"Thank you so much! This is my grandfather, John."

As Grandpa met her and Face, I noticed Murdock had crouched down to the floor, letting Trigger smell him. I was about to warn the pilot to be careful, since Trigger was wary of strangers, when to my surprise Trigger practically leaned his body against Murdock's and tried to lick his face. Murdock wrapped his arms around the shepherd and rubbed his fur up and down, something Trig definitely enjoyed. I stared at them in shock, and Amy seemed to notice, leaning over to comment to me.

"He has a way with animals. He can calm down a junkyard guard dog in minutes. I've seen him do it."

"Wow." I was slightly embarassed that my guard dog had turned to mush in a stranger's arms, but what can you do?

I glanced at Amy, noticing her soft expression as she watched Murdock with my dog. Her brown eyes held a look of fondness, and the smile she wore seemed different than the one she had given the rest of us so far.

Does she like Murdock? I wondered, grinning slightly at the realization of what I was witnessing. Amy suddenly saw me watching her and snapped out of her trance, blushing.

"May I have a cup of coffee, Mae? That sounds wonderful right now after my flight."

"Sure!"

I shot her a wink before heading to the coffee pot. Once everyone had grabbed a cup of coffee and a donut or two, we all settled into the living room to start the investigation. Away from where our chairs by the fireplace were, the rest of the living room was wood paneling walls and dark green carpet. Despite having just lost a loved one, we didn't have hardly any pictures of Mom around the house. Mom was always the picture-taker, not the subject, so there were lots of pictures of myself and my grandparents, and the only ones of Mom were childhood photos. Two beige fabric couches and a matching chair and loveseat were our seating around a coffee table badly in need of refinishing. Mom had snagged them at a yard sale after talking the owners down because of the stains and wear from cats scratching. I sat on one couch with B.A and Face, while Grandpa, Hannibal, and Murdock were on the opposite one. Amy sat in one of the chairs between the couches, closest to me on the end. Amy took a sip and then set down her coffee mug on the table before turning to me.

"So, I need any clues you have about your father: relatives, places he worked, the army company he served in... anything."

"Well, I don't have much of that information."

I hated having to tell her the same thing I told Hannibal. I felt embarassed to have so little information.

"Well, what about info on your mother and him? Where they met maybe?"

"Mom was living in Boston in an apartment with a couple classmates from her college. She was studying for a degree to pursue a music career. She met Dad at a party where he had been invited by a friend of a friend. The party was off-campus but I don't know where."

"... It was a bar."

I looked at my grandpa who had spoken quietly, surprised at this bit of information, since he had never told me that before.

"How do you know that?" I asked him, a little hurt that he had withheld the information from me all these years. He looked at me a little sheepishly.

"Because your mom called me that night to tell me about the guy she had met. Your father."

"Do you know the name of the establishment?" Amy inquired, taking notes down on a legal pad. Grandpa shook his head.

"I don't. She was a college student living away from home, and she was in a bit of a rebellious streak at that point in her life. She didn't tell me many details about her activities outside of school. I'm sorry, Mae, it's just your mom didn't want you to know that she met your dad in a bar. She never got drunk to my knowledge, just stayed social, but she had occasionally ran with a rough crowd."

"How long were they together?" Asked Hannibal, and my grandpa harrumphed before answering, cutting another glance at me.

"Long enough. My daughter had just started school there when she met him, and it wasn't long before she graduated that he joined the army to go to 'Nam. She came home on holiday break crying and telling me she was pregnant. She was happy about having a baby, but she was scared he wouldn't make it back alive to be a father."

I had heard that part of the story before: how Mom came home after she found out about me, and how she was such a mix of elated and worried for both Dad and me.

"Did your dad go to the same college as your mom?" Face asked me.

"No," I answered, stroking Trig's head absentmindedly. His wet nose snuffed into my lap.

"He didn't know what he wanted to do, so he never went to college. He didn't have much money I guess, and he lived simply."

Amy scribbled down on her notepad during the moment of silence that followed, and I could see the team wracking their brains for more questions to ask me, but realizing how little information we had to go on. The movement of Murdock leaning forward slightly in his seat caught my attention. He was peering at Amy's slender hand writing quickly and neatly on her legal pad, his own brown eyes watching intently, and a slight upward curve of his mouth told me he seemed to have a soft spot for her as well. I tried to conceal my smirk as Amy stopped writing and looked up at me, unaware of Murdock's attention.

"Well," Amy said. "We can start by locating the bar near her university, if it's still there, and see if we can find the staff who worked there during that time."

"It's not there anymore," Grandpa spoke up, and my heart sank further.

How much more disappointment would I have to take? Our investigation had barely begun!

"Jackie wanted to take Mae to Boston about a year ago. She thought that Mae was old enough now to know about the bar, and wanted to show her the place they met, but she discovered that they had been closed down for a long time."

"Really?" I asked, full of emotion again. Knowing Mom had planned a trip to the city she and Dad had met in was so meaningful to me. It made me miss her even more.

Grandpa nodded, and Hannibal tapped his mug thoughtfully, then looked at me with seriousness before speaking, his voice factual but with an air of understanding. I imagined it must be a face he used when addressing his soldiers.

"Kid, we all really want to help you as much as we can. You know we don't have much to go on. We'll go to that town and see what we can find out, but I need you to prepare yourself for the possibility of never knowing what happened to your father."

I felt like I was having tunnel vision but in my hearing. I had known all along that it was a big IF of finding Dad, but to have it said to me made it more real, and reality hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt like my identity was somehow tied to whoever my father was, even though my intellect knew that was false, but it made me even more desperate than ever to find him. Hannibal patiently waited for me to respond. I knew in my heart that the chances of success in this mission were slim. Hoping for some input, I looked at Grandpa. He looked tired and worn from the grief of losing his daughter, and from his granddaughter's frantic search for her dad that had ensued just days after Mom's memorial. He had helped shape who I am, since he was the only father figure I had ever known, and had played a big part in raising me. If the A-Team couldn't find my father, it would be okay, we would be alright. We HAD to be.

"I understand." I finally answered slowly, taking in a deep breath.

Hannibal nodded, then stood up.

"Well, guys, we better get going. No time to waste."

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A cool breeze tussled my brown locks as I stood in the graveyard that afternoon, staring down at the still-fresh grave of my mother. The flowers from her memorial were wilting out in the elements, but a freshly-picked handful of daisies I had brought lay next to them. I sighed, reading the gravestone for probably the hundreth time since it was placed there.

"Jacklynn Finnegan"

Seeing my mom's name written out was still hard. It brought images of her face to my mind in flashes, and the sound of her calm, strong voice...

"You all right, Mae?"

A voice came from behind me. I blinked my smarting eyes and glanced over to see B.A. standing awkwardly, squinting in the sunlight at me.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I answered.

He nodded and stepped closer, gold chains jingling, to read the headstone for himself. It said other things like how she was a beloved daughter and mother, and a servant to all.

"Your mom sounds like a wonderful person." He commented, reaching out to brush a fallen twig off the top. I smiled at the gesture.

"She is - was, the best."

I looked up to the sky, and wiped my cheeks with a sleeve of my army jacket I still wore, then turned around to walk back to where I had left my bycicle on the street. There was another next to mine, Grandpa's, that I assumed B.A. must have ridden to come fetch me. I knew Hannibal and Face had decided to take off in search of information in the city my parents had met at, and since that didn't need five people to accomplish, the rest had stayed back. Grandpa's truck hadn't been running for a few weeks, so B.A. was going to take a crack at fixing it, and Amy Allen wanted to learn more about my mother, to write a story for her newspaper on Mom's life and my search for my father. She hoped that if he was still alive and read the story, he would reach out to me. Murdock would... well, I wasn't sure what he would do. Help both B.A. and Amy respectively I supposed. With those encouraging thoughts, I hopped on my bike with a renewed energy.

"Come on, B.A.. I'll race you back!"

I pedaled down hard and dirt flew in the air as I rode as fast as I could. I could hear B.A. not far behind me, gold jingling like crazy as he tried to catch up to me, and I was almost sure I heard a giggle reach my ears. I beat him to the driveway first and skidded to a stop.

"What took you so long!?" I called to the muscular man as he slowed to a stop beside me, panting.

"I haven't raced a bike in a long time!" He exclaimed. "Man, that was fun! Let's go again!"

Seeing his exhuberant reaction, big smile on his face and his eyes wide, made me laugh out loud. I think it was the first time I had sincerly laughed that hard since Mom died, and it felt freeing, like a weight off my chest.