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This page last viewed: 2017-08-12 and has been viewed 860 times
Love Finds a Way
Summary: Response to the Lyric Wheel Challenge. Love, at last, comes eight times around, and deservedly so.
A cool, early winter breeze blew across the passengers in the car headed towards Los Angeles. Maybe he should've put the top up, Hannibal thought as he took his eyes off the road for a moment to check on the woman in the passenger's seat. But it was just too damned nice a day for that.
It took a moment before Maggie realized he was looking at her and turned to him, the breeze ruffling her hair. Her eyes were lit by a hint of inner happiness, confirmed by the small smile that curled the corners of her lips. Hannibal grinned back and returned his gaze to the road.
There'd been moments in his life that had been, well, dicey, to be honest. A little more dramatic and daring than they probably could have, and occasionally should have, been. But they were calculated risks and had almost always worked out right. You didn't get to be his age without knowing what you were doing. He was having a fine time leaping from adventure to adventure, because after all, leading the A‑Team wasn't just a job....
Then came Maggie.
She'd stood up to him from the start. Stood up to a gang of bikers, too, for that matter. There hadn't been a frightened bone in her body as she'd stood there with a rifle in her hands guarding those slime balls till the MPs had shown up. And she`d had every intention of using it if needed.
was possibly the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.
Hannibal'd had his share of women over the years. Those younger ones seemed to find his silver hair and courtly manners intriguing and loveable. And they certainly were mindless fun. He’d never thought of himself as the settling down type.
But Maggie was different. He'd known from the start she wouldn't fall for any of the usual games so he hadn`t even tried. Every bit a match for him, she'd made him work. Made him think. And once he started to think.... Well, that was the slippery slope to love, wasn't it?
He'd been through a lot in his life. Lost friends, found others, lived through dozens of moments when his wits determined that he lived rather than died. And of all his great plans and adventures, he realized, he'd saved the best for last.
Hannibal reached over and took her hand, stealing a quick glance as the sun blazed across the diamond on the ring she wore.
He smiled at Maggie. At his fiancé. Yeah, he liked that word. *Fiancé.*
Face poked at the charcoals in the barbeque grill, as if sheer force of will and fiddling would produce the perfect, grey, outer layer of ash that signaled it was time to start cooking.
"Stop messing with the fire," Jackie said as she gave him a playful swat on his backside. "Our company won't be here for a while yet, so relax. Just come over here and have some wine with me. It's a gorgeous day."
Face looked at her with mock sternness. "Don't mess with the chef, lady."
She laughed, took him by the hand and led him to the patio table. "You only put up with me for my dowry. I know."
Taking in the sprawling lawn, trees, and perfect beds of flowers in what could, by understatement, be described as their back yard, Face took a sip from the glass of chilled Chablis she handed him. "Good
thing for you you're pretty."
"I thought you'd never notice."
"I was toying with you," he said with a grin. He put down the glass and pulled her close for a kiss.
He'd known Jackie Taylor for, what, three years or so? She'd hired the Team fairly early in its career to get out of an arranged marriage. The Colonel had even talked Face into marrying her himself, just to keep her from legally marrying anyone else. He'd liked her from the time he met her, on a platonic level. She had spunk. Even so, he was still relieved when their marriage of convenience was annulled.
They'd check in with each other when one saw the other's name in the paper (society column or news) over the following years. Short chats turned to longer conversations. They talked about work, relationships, and give each other shit about their inability to find love. And they laughed. A lot.
Occasionally they would meet for dinner. One night, after a couple of bottles of wine and a superb meal, they started describing their perfect mate. Smart, they agreed on. Adventuresome, in consideration of Face's chosen profession, would be a must. Easy going, but not a pushover, in consideration of Jackie's social standing. But most of all, it had to be someone they could talk to. And it dawned on him that the woman he was describing was sitting across from him. And from the look in her eyes, she was coming to pretty much the same realization about him.
Sometimes the very thing you're looking for is the one thing you can't see.
It wasn't long before they admitted to each other and to themselves that yes, they fulfilled each other's wish list, and that this really was true friendship grown to love.
This time, they'd done the wedding right. With a smaller, more appropriate, ring for Mrs. Jackie Taylor Peck.
And they were living their happily-ever-after.
BA's palms were sweating. Just being inside an airport gave him the shakes, even when he was there to pick up a passenger.
He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, cursing the fact he'd used a pencil to write down the flight number; he'd nearly smudged the lead clean off the paper nervously folding and unfolding it over the past week. Not that he hadn't memorized the information. He just liked having the facts in writing in his hand.
Leaving Kamora behind in Kenya was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do -- and he'd done some hard stuff in his life. He tried to call her, like he promised, but the time zone was different. He'd woken her up in the middle of the night once, much to his embarrassment. And, well, he just didn't know what to say half the time. He was the kind of guy who preferred to talk face to face. He'd tried writing, but that was even more uncomfortable than his awkward telephone conversations.
Discouraged by his own inability to keep a long distance relationship going, he had started to let it slide. Called less frequently. Wrote only occasionally. He felt like a failure, and BA Baracus didn't feel good about failure. But he wasn't smooth like Face and Hannibal, and he wasn't easy-going, like Murdock. He was a black and white kind of guy, and talking or writing without being able to see her, be with her--well, that was a little too hard for him.
He'd told Kamora that, the last time he'd written to her. He explained to her he just couldn't hack it, told her she probably already had all kinds of great guys lined up, looking for her attention. That she deserved someone close to home to treat her right, because she was the best. The sweetest, nicest woman he'd
ever had the privilege of knowing. She'd called as soon as she received the letter. Told him he wasn't
getting out of it that easy, and that she was going to use some of her savings to come to LA.
First he was stunned. Then worried. What if that relationship they'd begun, years ago, was a mistake? What if they'd colored their memories to make everything better, sweeter, more beautiful than it actually had been?
He was so busy worrying he almost missed the announcement of her flight landing.
Kamora Kaboko entered the terminal. She looked nothing like a no-nonsense game warden. Her khaki uniform was replaced by a light, feminine dress. She looked young and fresh and beautiful, and suddenly BA knew that it had not been his imagination. Everything that had happened between them in Kenya -- well, it had been as sweet and beautiful as he'd remembered. And he'd almost blown the best thing that ever happened to him.
After waiting what seemed like forever for her to get through customs, she ran across the terminal to him and leapt into his arms. The words, whispered into his ear, filled him with relief and hope
for his future -- their future.
not getting rid of me that easily, Bosco."
Just when you thought your chance had passed....
He'd spent time, over the years, thinking about the woman he'd marry some day. Because getting married, when he was younger, had been a foregone conclusion. It was how you got happy, according to his grandfather.
"Do yourself a favor," he'd say, nodding towards his wife. "Find yourself a woman like your grandma and marry her quick, `fore someone else does." Naturally, he fashioned a picture in his mind of a younger – much younger - version of his grandmother. A Donna Reed type, running the household affairs with grace and ease.
As he got older, his image of his someday-wife went through many different variations, but he was always sure it would happen someday. After all, he had a lot of life ahead of him, and it didn't seem right to go through it alone.
Then a time had come -- longer than he'd care to admit -- when he'd decided it wouldn't happen because no sane woman would have him. It was depressing. The whole wife and family thing had been a part of
his image of his future self for so long. But what did he have to offer now? It just seemed beyond his reach.
It took years before he thought about being married again. But one day, there she had been: boom. Out of nowhere, it seemed. And he’d known for sure she was the one. All he had to do was convince her of that.
It had taken some time, years in fact, but he finally won her over with persuasion, charm, and their long friendship. They'd been through a lot and understood each other. They fit together like peas in a pod. Wasn't that the important stuff?
And gorgeous didn't hurt.
A convertible sedan pulled up in front of the hanger where he rented space for his plane. Amy took off her sunglasses as she put the car into park.
"Hey, good lookin," she said with a grin. "Need a ride?"
"You bet." He leapt over the door of the convertible and into the passenger seat.
Amy rolled her eyes. "I wish you'd use the door."
"No you don't, you think it's manly and sexy when I do that. Besides, you sound too much like Face when you say that stuff."
"You're half right...."
He laughed and leaned over to give her a kiss. A good, proper, recently married kiss. They'd only been mister and missus for a short time, and Murdock figured they were still allowed soppy pubic displays of affection.
It was a beautiful evening, warm enough to keep the top of Amy's convertible down as they drove to Face and Jackie`s house for a weekend in the country.
"Jackie said we'll be cooking out tonight," Amy said. "I checked with the airline and Kamora`s flight was on time, so she and BA should be getting there about the same time we do."
Murdock barely heard her. He was busy basking in the happy glow of married life on a beautiful winter evening, driving to meet his best friends to just hang out for the weekend. He was as contented as he
could remember being in years. Not the way he'd hoped or planned when he was younger. It was better, in its way. Much better.
"Hannibal and Maggie are still coming, right?" Murdock asked.
"Yeah,” she replied, “Face said they were driving in from Black Rock this afternoon. They’re going to stop on the way to pick up some champagne."
gave him that saucy woman's smile that she got when she thought she had the
inside track on a tip.
Murdock grinned. “Took the Colonel long enough.”
For the four of them the plan, with its twists, turns, detours and delays had finally come together, just as it should.
No, scratch that.
fini! (at last)
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