by Dawn Underwood (Thunderbird)-Nighthawk Commando


         Hannibal Smith sat alone in the nicely fenced in back yard of the house
 the A-Team occupied in Langley, Virgina.  He heard a radio playing
 softly in the distance and after a moment of listening, he could make
 out the first few words to one of his favorite songs.  He had always
 thought it was beautiful, but lately he had come to realize how closely
 it resembled his own life.

         Why don't you come to your senses
         You've been out riding fences for so long now

         It seemed he had been on the run for most of his life, from one thing
 or another.  First the past that he kept hidden from everyone -- even
 his team.  Then the military.  Even now, when it seemed he had no other
 option than to work for Stockwell, he continuously attempted to find
 ways to escape and move on, leave this behind.

         Oh, you're a hard one
         But I know that you've got your reasons
         These things that are pleasing you
         Will hurt you some how

         Hannibal smiled.  There were so many things in life that he enjoyed
 that he knew could not be good for him in the long run.  Cigars.  The
 Jazz.  His smiled faded.  He knew one day the Jazz and all the risks he
 took on every mission would catch up with him.  He prayed that he would
 be its only victim.

         Don't you draw the queen of diamonds boy
         She'll beat you if she's able
         You know the queen of hearts is always your best bet

         Stockwell had been the team's queen of diamonds.  He had gotten them
 captured, tried, convicted, executed, and now he was forcing them to
 work for him.  He had beaten them.

         But it seems to me some fine things have been laid upon your           
         But you only want the ones that you can't get

         What he really wanted was a pardon.  He sometimes doubted that he and
 his men would ever see the ones that they had been promised.  Stockwell
 probably figured that they would be killed on one of his screwball
 suicidal missions.  He would never have to bother getting them their
 freedom -- he doubted they would live that long.

         Oh you ain't gettin' no younger
         Your pain and your hunger, they're driving you home
         And freedom, oh freedom, well that's just some people           talking
         Your prison is walking through this world all alone

         He often wished he had been able to stay in Bad Rock with Maggie
 Sullivan.  But there was always that nagging need to be on the move in
 search of freedom.  That was all he really wanted in the end.  The
 freedom to go where he wanted and do what he wanted without having to
 look over his shoulder constantly.  Now, even if they were freed,
 everone they knew and loved theyought they had been executed by the

         Don't your feet get cold in the wintertime
         The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine
         It's hard to tell the nighttime from the day
         You're losing all your highs and lows
         Ain't it funny how the feeling goes away?

         And, as hard as he tried to hide it from the team, there were times
 when he was very depressed.  Times when he thought about the war, the
 POW camp, being on the run, those days when they just had to sit and
 wait to be put infront of the firing squad, seeing the barrels of the
 rifles pointed at him before he was blindfolded.
         "Good mornin', Colonel."
         Hannibal turned to find Captain HM Murdock, the team's always chipper
 and happy-go-lucky pilot, smiling at him.

         Why don't you come to your senses
         Come down from your fences, open the gate
         It may be raining, but there's a rainbow above you
         You better let somebody love you, let sombody love you
         Better let somebody love you, (before it's too late)

         Just being around Murdock and his crazy antics always reminded Hannibal
 that life was not so bad.  The team was alive and together and that was
 all they really needed.
         Hannibal stood up, bringing his cup with him.  "Morning, Capatain."  He
 took a sip from the cup in his hand and grimaced.  "Let's go in and make
 some coffee, shall we?"
         Murdock looked at the cup the colonel had drank from only seconds
 before and saw the still steaming black liquid inside.  He looked at
 Hannibal questioningly.  "Isn't that what you've got?"
         Hannibal shook his head as he walked to a nearby bush and poured the
 sludgey liquid into the soil.  He studdied the plant.  "I'm sorry," he
 said to it.
         Murdock looked at his friend sympathetically.  "Face made coffee again
 this mornin', huh?"
         Hannibal nodded, studying the inside of the cup, wondering why the
 lieutenant's coffee did not eat a hole through the bottom.  "He tries,"
 he looked over at the captain, "but I think it's getting worse."
         Murdock grinned.  The two walked toward the house.
         As they reached the door, Murdock stopped and looked at Hannibal.
 "Don't worry, Colonel, one of these days we'll teach him to make coffee
 for five, not five hundred."

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