Four Men and a Little Baby

The Baby is a Tormentor

Stressed, Face ran his hand through his hair. He, Lieutenant Templeton Peck, had not signed up for this. There was no way on God's green earth he would have agreed to going on a run with his team if he suspected they were about to become...glorified babysitters.

He looked at his commanding officer. Was that sweat on the older man's brow? Things were worse than he thought. Hannibal was never flustered. He had watched that man endure hours of torture at the hands of the Viet Cong. 'Nam hadn't broken Colonel John 'Hannibal' Smith, but apparently a teething six-month old could.

"Um- er, Hannibal, do you think we should do something?" Face asked, raising his voice several decibels to be heard over the wailing baby.

"And what, Lieutenant, do you suggest?" Hannibal held the baby at arms length, not only to try and protect his ear drums from the screaming insult, but also because of the ominous smell coming from the diaper.

BA recoiled away from the baby suspended over the stick shift in his van. "Don't ya wave that thing near me."

In fact, if they hadn't been doing 55 on the freeway, Face was convinced the Sergeant would have jumped out. However, he was driving, which meant immediate evacuation was complicated.

"Don't know what all the fuss is about," Murdock chipped in from the back where he was reading, 'Your Baby and Child: From Birth to Age Five'. Captain HM Murdock knew if he could just understand this single book, all the team's worries would be over.

BA couldn't hear him due to the wailing siren, disguised as a baby, next to him.
"What's da fool jibber jabbering about?"

"Aw come on ya ugly mudsucker, ya gotta way with kids. Why dontcha try?" Murdock suggested in his Texan drawl, moving to poke his head between the two men in the front of the van.

"BA Baracus only handle 'em once they're talking. Can't communicate with that." He scowled at the baby now being held by Hannibal over the dashboard. It was still screaming.

"Sergeant, we need to regroup. Get us somewhere safe A-Sap," Hannibal ordered the muscly black man behind the wheel.

Murdock frowned at his CO's braced arms and the screaming infant suspended precariously close to the windshield. "Colonel, ya can't be holding it like that."

"Well do something useful, like find the gas masks. Then I can risk holding it closer to my nose," Hannibal demanded.

"Sorry, Hannibal, we used them on the last mission. You know when we set the tear gas off in the potato factory. I haven't had a chance to get new filters." Face replaced Murdock, peering apologetically between the front seats. He passed his colonel a cigar. "See if this helps you get on the jazz, if nothing else the smoke can mask the smell."

Murdock plucked the cigar from over Hannibal's shoulder. "Ah. Ah, no, Colonel. Penelope says no smoking around infants, bad for their developing lungs."

"And who the hell is Penelope?" Hannibal asked, disgruntled.

"Leach, author of Murdock's new book on how to be a mom," Face clarified, as the pilot had moved away to dispose of the cigar.

"Sounds like Lynch, don't wanna take no advice from that slimeball," BA growled. Noticing the unusual silence from the pilot, he got concerned. "What's the crazy fool doin' now?"

"Increasing air flow," Murdock replied, pushing the sunroof open. "Penelope says fresh air is good for children's lungs…" He paused, looking thoughtful. "Or was it Mary Poppins? Anyways it'll help dilute the smell."

Hannibal and BA gratefully leapt on the idea and quickly wound down the windows.

"We could open the rear doors," Face suggested hopefully.

"I like your initiative, but you know we only do that when we're non-fatally incapacitating our enemies, to stop them pursuing us. It's really not safe," Hannibal said, glancing over his shoulder, despite virtually hanging the now quiet baby out of the newly opened window. He handled deadly explosives daily, so trusted his own grip on the child.

"And us blacking out from poisonous fumes is hardly safe either," Face muttered through gritted teeth.

Hannibal noticed Murdock in a flurry of activity in the back. "Captain, what are you doing?"

"Here, Sir, try this." Murdock presented one of the team's duffel bags.

Hannibal raised his eyebrows questionly.

"Put the baby's lower half in the bag. Provides us with an extra layer of defence. That diaper looks ready to explode," Murdock answered the unspoken question.

Hannibal carefully lowered the infant into the bag, while Murdock zipped it up around the child's waist. "Nice, Captain, nice."

"Hang on!" Face exclaimed in horror. "That's my bag."

BA clenched his bejewelled fist and waved it towards the protesting conman. "Stop your jibber jabber. The next sucker to speak gets a knuckle sandwich."

"We gonna have to stop. I may not know anything about babies, but I've handled enough crap to know this kid has reached critical point. We've gotta change it," Hannibal replied, ignoring the Sergeant's threat.

Well it wasn't one of BA's usual masterpieces. The gold-clad man normally transformed a rusty tractor into a tank using just a handful of scrap metal, yet he'd done a surprisingly good job. He had created a suitable changing table with the team's gun safe and some tent canvas.

Hannibal laid the baby down, then removed his black leather gloves. Eyeballing the little infant's bulging diaper, he thought better of it and put his gloves back on. Beside him Face folded and refolded a terry cloth.

"Aw, Hannibal, these things don't come with a manual," Face whined.

"Army 101, if it's not in the manual don't do it," Murdock said authoritatively, standing upwind of the activities.

"Fool, shut it. They threw the manual out when Hannibal joined up," BA growled. He'd have moved away from Murdock, but daren't try another area incase the onslaught of stench hit him again. He breathed in deeply to stop himself from strangling the pilot.

It took the A-Team the best part of an hour and a lot of duct tape to swaddle the child in the clean diaper. Hell, his men could take down a platoon of goons with a pea shooter, yet changing a baby appeared beyond all of them, Hannibal sighed. He left the now calm, clean baby in Face's care, before stepping away to smoke his cigar. As the rich woody smoke filled his lungs he started to formulate a plan.

They had a responsibility to the child. The letter, tied to the buggy, made that clear. When they found the baby by the van, annoyingly, it was sucking on the envelope. Vital intel was missing. Apparently the kid was called Sarah and six months old. The mother claimed she needed a few days peace and who better to keep it safe than the A-Team? Hannibal would have dumped the infant at the nearest hospital if it hadn't been for the next paragraph.

Sarah's father has a responsibility to help me. You and your team must keep her safe until the weekend. I'll meet you at the Kozy Klub 11.00 Saturday. I'm sorry it's come to this...

The rest of the handwritten note had been destroyed by the baby's incessant chewing.

Hannibal looked across at Face clasping the child to his chest. He suspected it had more to do with keeping the newly fitted diaper on, than fatherly affection. At least BA was in the clear, the baby was white. The piercing blue eyes indicated it might be Hannibal's or Face's, but hadn't Murdock said something about all babies were born with blue eyes? The mop of dark brown hair, coating the child's head, suggested Murdock's genes.

None of the three officers had been discreet entertaining women. If it was Murdock's, Jody Joy was firmly in the frame for being the awol mother or that dental hygienist he'd been sweet on. If it was Face's kid they could spend several days phoning all his conquests and still might not find her.

Hannibal realised Maggie Sullivan could be the mom. In the throes of passion he knew he hadn't always played it safe with the good doctor. But surely she was past child bearing age. A quick mental calculation from when he last saw her and Hannibal swallowed uncomfortably - the dates would match.

Logically, Hannibal realised whoever the mother was, she not only knew their van and how to find them, but also the fact they were the A-Team. That at least narrowed down the options, but sadly not by much. Finishing his cigar, he rolled his shoulders, trying to relax. Face was right, the nicotine hit did feed the jazz. He switched into full CO mode, as the plan came to him.

"BA, call your mom. We're taking Sarah to her, then we'll bring your mom and the baby back to LA. She can help us look after the kid until the rendezvous," he ordered. "Murdock, plan the route, we'll split the driving in shifts. Face, we need supplies. Let's start with disposable diapers and whatever food babies eat."

"Aw, Hannibal, how am I meant to know that?" Face protested.

"Lieutenant," Hannibal barked to stop the whining. "You're the team's supply officer. Read the captain's damn book."

"Oh boy," Face muttered under his breath.

~TAT~TAT~