Title: Bittersweet: A Christmas Story

Rating: PG

Warnings: Spoilers for "In Plane Sight"

Note: Liauno sent me the story idea (thanks Lia!) with the basic guidelines and I took it from there.

September 1983

Face swallowed the last bite of his cookie. It was bittersweet…the moment, not the cookie.

For most people, cookies represented childhood, innocence and warm memories of a happy time. Unfortunately for Face, at this moment they also represented the team's payment for the last mission...and they weren't about to let him forget it!

"You never did tell us why you agreed for us to do this job for free," Hannibal said as they walked away from Jes and Carrie Hicks' farm and toward the van.

Face stopped walking and put his hands on his hips. "Can't a guy simply decide to do something out of the goodness of his heart?"

"Not when that guy is you he can't!" B.A. snickered.

"You have to admit, Face, it was a little strange coming from you," Murdock said.

"Yeah, and if there one thing Murdock know, it's strange." B.A. added.

Face doubted they would understand, but he also knew they wouldn't let up until he gave them an explanation. He shoved his hands inside his jacket pocket to keep them still. He had a tendency to talk with his hands when he was nervous…and he was definitely nervous. Taking a deep breath he asked, "You remember when Mrs. Hicks dropped something in the kitchen and I went to see if she was okay? Well, when she and I were alone…"

Murdock rubbed his two pointer fingers together and said in a British accent. "Naughty, naughty, oh Facial-stud. Mrs. Hicks, or Carrie to you I suppose, is a married lady. And quite a few years your senior, I might add."

"Anyway," Face said deliberately, shooting Murdock a sharp look, "she told me I reminded her of her son. Then when she found out I was an orphan, she asked me who sent me cookies when I was in the Army." Face paused, unsure of how to put into words what he wanted to say next.

"Cookies?" Hannibal asked, confused. "so that's why she made you those cookies?"

"Cookies!" B.A. growled. "You volunteered us over cookies?"

"Yes…um, no…well, yes." Face stammered.

"Fool, you better be plannin' on sellin' some of them cookies and getting' us some cash."

"You would make an awfully cute Girl Scout, Facey" Murdock said, batting his eyelashes in his direction.

"Knowing Face, he'd probably wind up dating his troop leader," Hannibal laughed.

"Very funny, guys," Face said trying to hide his unease, but he really wanted them to listen. "Let me explain…there was more to it than just cookies."

Hannibal put an arm around Face's shoulder. Cigar dangling out of one side of his mouth, he spoke out of the other. "Sure there was more than cookies…I'll bet there was milk too," he teased. "Since our Lieutenant is feeling so generous, we can take 10% of all his future cookie sales as pay...or send the bill to Face directly."

"Oh, just forget it. Have your fun...I'll be waiting in the van." Face pulled away from Hannibal and walked off deflated.

Face was quiet during the ride back to Los Angeles. Ever the conman, he put on just enough of an act to keep the rest of the team satisfied that all was well. He nodded at the right times, smiled when looked at, and gave one word answers when spoken to. He spent most of the trip looking out the window watching the world pass by in a blur. But instead of really seeing it, he was replaying that day in the kitchen over and over again in his mind.

There is a crash…the sound of glass breaking. He puts his bowl of chicken soup down and makes his way into the kitchen to find a distraught looking Mrs. Hicks looking down at the mess she had just made.

Taking her gently by the wrists, he asks, "Are you okay…did you hurt yourself?"

"Oh…no…I'm just clumsy. I'm always dropping things." He crouches down to the floor to help her. "Oh, thank you. When Robbie was living home he's come running out of his room, 'mom, are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? Just like you did." He helps her stand back up. She walks over to the garbage and smiles, "I bet you've got a mother home who drops things too."

He feels the heat rise to his face as he stutters, "No, I don't…I mean…actually, I'm a…I'm an a…orphan." Why was that so hard to say? At 32 years of age, it wasn't as if this was anything new to him.

She looks horrified. "Who sent you cookies when you were in the army?"

A brief nervous chuckle, "Well, mostly the mess hall."

"Oh, that's a sin," she says sadly walking toward him. She puts her hands to his face, "a fine boy like you and nobody sending you cookies."

Then she stared him straight in the eye and gave him this unbelievable look. It was like she was looking in through his eyes and down to his soul. It brought a lump to his throat and tears to his eyes; it made him feel warm all over. So warm he could actually feel it melt some of the ice that had been building up over the years.

Growing up Face had heard people say things when they thought that he or the other orphans weren't listening. They would try to make themselves feel less guilty about their more privileged lives by making statements such as: 'they can't miss what they never had' or 'what they don't know won't hurt them'.

Oh, but how they were wrong.

Because, while it was true that he never had a mother…or at least not one he remembered…he still missed her. And standing in that kitchen on that day not so long ago, he let himself imagine what it would have been like to be Mrs. Hicks' son...and he hurt. He hurt for himself and what he never had. He also hurt for Mrs. Hicks and her son Robbie, and what they could possibly lose.

That's when Face knew he wanted to help her…needed to help her. He wasn't able to do anything about his own situation back then, but he and the guys could do something about this one now. And the looks on the Hicks' faces when they came back with the news that Robbie was on his way home was payment enough; the cookies were just an extra sweet bonus.

So, if the others wanted to think that cookies were the culprit, let them.

"Face," Hannibal said, turning around in his seat to look at the younger man who was staring out the window oblivious to his surroundings. Murdock and B.A. had already gone inside, but Hannibal had hung back wanting to talk to Face.

"Face," he tried again a little louder, taking note of the faraway look in his eyes. He put his hand on Face's knee and shook it lightly. "Kid, we're home."

"Huh?" Face said, distractedly. "Oh…um…yeah…okay." He moved to get out of the van, but Hannibal grabbed his arm and held him back.

"Listen, Face. I know you're angry about before."

Face looked down into his lap. Anger was too strong a word; disappointed was more like it. He was disappointed that they started mocking him before even letting him fully explain.

"You know we were only having a little fun, don't you?" When Face nodded his head without looking up, Hannibal said firmly, "Look at me and answer when I'm talking to you, Lieutenant."

When Hannibal called one of them by rank, it was wise to obey. Looking up Face said, "I know, Colonel."

"It was just a joke, kid. Try not to take everything so seriously," Hannibal said gently. He slapped Face on the knee playfully, then turned around and exited the van.

Face sighed. He was never a fan of the "just kidding" defense. If something was truly funny, then no apology or explanation should be needed after the fact. Still, he couldn't expect his friends to understand the depth of his feelings, especially when he was usually the one working overtime to cover them up.

Face Followed Hannibal up the path toward the "borrowed" beach house they were all crashing at. Hannibal waited at the door, holding it open for him. "I don't know about you, kid, but I'm starved." With a twinkle in his eye and a mischievous grin he asked, "got any of those cookies left you'd like to sell?"

"Aw, Hannibal," Face groaned.

"I couldn't help myself…I love it when a plan comes together."

TBC