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The Season is Upon Us Now

Season is Upon Us Now
By Terri Spencer

Rated G
Archive: You Bet
Warning: A bit of a givaway about what happens after "Beneath the Pale Moonlight"
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Stephen J. Cannell
"A Baby Just like you" was written and copywrited by John Denver around 1975 for his young son, Zachary. RIP, John.
My little Christmas gift, for what it's worth, to all my listsibs. Happy Holidays, Everyone!
Copywrite 2000 by Teresa A. Spencer

The Season is Upon Us Now
By Terri Spencer

A baby's shrill cry woke Templeton Peck from a wonderful dream. In it, he was still with the A-team. He was young, strong, healthy, and very attractive. That was before the team started working for Stockwell, and before he had been kidnapped by Douglas Kyle and buried alive. Being buried alive had resulted in Face having a weakened heart and lungs, and bad kidneys. That had led to the end of the A-Team, but not to the end of the friendships between the men, who were now visiting the Pecks. Face looked at alarm clock It was 11:34 PM December 24th. Christmas Eve.

The baby continued to cry, waking up Face's wife. With a groan, she started to get up to feed the baby. Knowing how tired his wife was, Face put a hand on Rachel's arm. "Go back to sleep. I'll get her."

"Are you sure?" Rachel asked.

"Of course I'm sure," Face answered, brushing his lips against hers. "You've been on your feet since early this morning, getting everything ready. And you've been busy with company. Get some rest. I'll see what our daughter wants."

"Mmm, OK. There's some freshly pumped breast milk in the fridge."

"Clearly marked, so that BA doesn't drink it by accident," Face chuckled. "Be back soon."

Rachel's answer to her husband's words was a soft snore.

Face walked into his daughter's bedroom and picked up the little baby. Little Samantha Peck was three months old and the apple of her father's eye. She had her mother's pale skin, nose, and red hair, but she had her father's blue-green eyes and smile. From the moment that she entered his life, Face was never the same.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked as he rubbed his daughter's belly. "Is daddy's little girl hungry?"The baby answered with another cry. Face put his finger in his baby's mouth, and she greedily sucked on it. "That answers that question. How about the two of us go downstairs and get little Sama some milk, huh?"

When he got to the kitchen, Face got a pacifier and put it in his baby's mouth. Singing softly to her as he prepared her bottle, Face decided to turn on the Christmas lights as he fed her. He loved the lights on the tree. Hannibal and him had put them up yesterday afternoon, and the team had a great time decorating it. He also decided to listen to a little music, and turned on the stereo just loud enough for him and his little girl to hear.

Cradling his daughter in one arm, and the warmed bottle in the right, Face sat down in the rocking chair that Hannibal had sent him for his birthday. Hannibal admitted that it had been a joke, because Face had got so domestic, but Face loved rocking in his chair, especially when he was holding Samantha. He sometimes wondered if his father, A.J. Bancroft, ever rocked him to sleep at night and enjoyed it the way Face did. Somehow, Face didn't think so.

Singing softly along with the music coming from the radio, Face thought about how much more this Holiday meant to him now that he had a child.

"And now, here's an oldie but a goodie," the late night disc jockey said with amusement in his voice. "Here's 'A baby Just Like You' by John Denver. Going out from John to Templeton."

Face's ears perked up, and he looked at the top of the stairs. There he saw a figure with silver hair.

The season is upon us now,
A time for gifts and giving.
And as the year draws to it's close
I think about my living.

Christmas time when I was young,
The magic and the wonder.
But colors dull, and candles dim,
And dark I'm standing under.

Face smiled at that. When he was a child, he had some happy memories of the holiday. Going to church, singing "The little Drummer Boy" during the Christmas service, because it was the first thing that he ever sang or said in almost a year. He didn't even mind that broken toys or the cloths that didn't fit then. He was just grateful to have something to call his own.

It wasn't until Face got older that the joy started to disappear. Year after year, kids were adopted, but he was left behind. The toys were always broken, the cloths either too big or too small, and the holiday ceased to have much meaning for him except for the birth of Christ.

Then came Vietnam, and the years on the run. The only home he had was only what he could scam, and his only family was the A-Team.

Oh, little angel, shining light
You set my soul to dreaming.
You've given back my joy in life.
You've filled me with new meaning.

At this point, Face looked up at the figure on the stairs, tears coming to his eyes. The song was echoing how he felt about the little baby that he held in his arms.

A savior King was born that day,
A baby just like you.
And as the Magi came with gifts,
I come with my gift too.

That Peace on Earth fills up your time
And brotherhood surrounds you.
And that you may know the warmth of love
And wrap it all around you.

Face looked down into his daughters little face. He felt the tears start to fall as his heart filled up with love, feeling every word of the simple song.

It's just a wish, a dream I'm told from the day's when I was young.
Merry Christmas, Little Zachary!
Merry Christmas Everyone!
Merry Christmas Little Zachary!
Merry Christmas Everyone!

As the last chord of the song faded away, Face held his daughter to his shoulder and patted her back. He was rewarded with a tiny burp, and a little bit of wetness on his silk pajamas as the clock tolled midnight. He had again forgotten to put a towel there. But to Face, his daughter's "gift" was the best Christmas present he ever had.

Looking at his baby, he said; "Merry Christmas, little angel child." And looking up at the figure on the stairs, he said; "Merry Christmas, Everyone."

The figure nodded to him, and went back to bed.

The End


Season is Upon Us Now by Terri Spencer

 

 


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