by Dawn Underwood
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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