Christmas, Thanksgiving, those are family holidays. Family, you know, the mom, the dad, and 2.3 kids, uh, station wagon in the garage...

- Face, "Family Reunion"

Chapter 30: Christmas Wish

Christmas eve in Chicago . . .

A slight breeze sent a chill through the winter air, causing the branches of the small trees that lined North Michigan Avenue and State Street to dance around. The trees were adorned with Christmas lights, which glowed softly with their white light against the encroaching darkness of night. The setting evening sun practically set the sky ablaze with brilliant colors of red and orange, creating a very picturesque appearance.

The sidewalks were literally packed with throngs of last minute shoppers, trying to make up for lost time due to the blizzard in addition to rushing to get in on substantial savings on the gifts they intended to buy for friends, family, and loved ones. People were literally shoulder to shoulder, trying to weave their way through the massive crowd in order to get to their desired stores. If there was one word that a person could use to describe the utter chaos . . . it would be crazy.

High above the city streets, Templeton Peck leaned up against the railing that surrounded the perimeter of the floor. As he did so, he looked past the black steel supports and out of one of the 16,100 bronze tinted windows that covered the 110 story Sears Tower. For a moment, he glanced back to the rest of the observation are and noted that the crowd up here was light . . . probably much lighter than it would have been had it not been Christmas Eve. Those few that were present milled about over the grey and black tiled floor, which was adjacent to the black marble floor in the center area that housed the elevators.

Those elevators . . .

BA had mentioned them before they got on, and how they were among the fastest in the world. Apparently, they were capable of ascending nearly 1,600 feet per minute. Although the con artist was pretty skeptical and wasn't going to believe it until he experienced it for himself, he remembered how thrilled Murdock seemed by that idea. Then, when they got on and it started going up . . . it was almost as bad as whenever the A-Team pilot pulled an aircraft into a steep climb, especially with the way his stomach had dropped and his ears popped several times on the way up to the 103rd floor Skydeck.

When they got off the elevator, it took the Supply Officer a few moments to get his bearings. Murdock seemed happier than a lark and totally unaffected . . . still chewing away on the gum in his mouth. Was that the trick on how to handle extreme heights and the change in air pressure? Chewing gum?

Either way, that made him vow that the next time the muscular mechanic told him something about Chicago, he was definitely going to listen. After all, who would know better about certain aspects of the city than someone who had grown up there and still had family that lived there?

As he continued to look out the window, he recalled the recording that was played in the elevator on the trip up. It mentioned how visitors to the 1,454 foot high Sears Tower could see four states on a clear day – Illinois, Indiana, Wisconsin, and Michigan. The low lights on the floor kept the attention of most visitors on the sights outside the window, as that was often the reason why people came to the World's Tallest Building.

From what the Lieutenant could see, the recording was not an exaggeration . . .

Even though the light from the day was starting to yield to a brilliant starry night sky, Face was still able to gain a new and unique perspective of the Windy City. Everything below seemed so small, like a child's plaything. The silver CTA train that slinked across the elevated tracks appeared to be about the size of an O-scale train, and vehicles looked like Matchbox cars.

To the northeast, he could see the lights from the Magnificent Mile as they burned brightly, calling to the horde of last minute shoppers. In a way, the Supply Officer was glad that he was up in the Skydeck and not down there having to fight his way through the crowd just to get around. As he looked in that direction, he could see the black John Hancock building. The top floor was cast in the lights in the season, with one half red and the other half green.

From what he had recalled, the Hancock building had once held the mantle of the World's Tallest Building before losing it to New York when they built the Empire State Building. New York kept the title with the World Trade Center, but it didn't hang onto it for too long after that. It wasn't until the Sears Tower was completed in 1973 that a skyscraper in Chicago was again awarded that illustrious title that served as a boon to tourism.

Truthfully, it was a testament to the city of Chicago itself. In a way, it was like a phoenix rising from the ashes, surviving a raging fire that devastated the heart of the city in 1871. Almost every Chicagoan knew the tale of how it started by a cow kicking over a lantern in Mrs. O'Leary's barn. The only surviving structure in the heart of all of the ashes was the fabled Water Tower along North Michigan Avenue, which still served as a popular attraction to visitors. In spite of the disaster and the hundreds of lives that were lost, the spirit of the people could not be broken, allowing them to rebuild Chicago to become bigger and better than ever . . . an architectural marvel that inspired many efforts all over the world.

Face's thoughts were pulled away from the view by the frustrated voice of his best friend, who was standing with the others a few feet away.

"I ain't buyin' it," the lanky pilot protested with his Texan drawl very prevalent. He removed his dark blue baseball cap from his head with his left hand, and ran the fingers of his right hand through his receding hairline as a sign of frustration. He then lowered that hand and put the hat back on his head again, the shock and disbelief at the news not having left the expression on his face. "If Decker had y'all where he wanted you, there ain't no way he'd let y'all go. A snowball would have better chances in hell."

"Hey, crazy man, you know we wouldn't lie to you 'bout something like this," BA replied with a shy grin on his face. It was very clear that he was enjoying the fact that the Captain seemed more confused by the facts that that been revealed to him than the Sergeant usually was when he woke up in a strange place or on a plane. The Colonel often restrained him before he could get some payback with the fool for flying them or for his antics, but this time he could get a bit of revenge and savor it.

"It's true, Murdock," Adele Baracus confirmed with a gentle smile. She still could hardly believe it herself, although she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. It really was nothing less than a miracle, and it was one that she was definitely going to appreciate . . . just as she appreciated all of her boys for how they helped her yet again. "Colonel Decker just let Scooter, Hannibal, and Face go."

All the Captain could do was shake his head as he skeptically noted, "There's got to be some catch." For his part, he still found it extremely hard to believe that Colonel Decker . . . the person who had relentlessly chased the A-Team for two years, would simply let them go like that. Besides, he had seen the news accounts on WGN about how Spencer Jackson and his hired killer had been captured while attempting the assassination of the Mayor and his staff. Although the reports also claimed that several undercover policemen had been responsible for foiling the attack, he knew better. Still, there had been no mention of the A-Team or how they escaped, and the guys had been less than forthcoming when they had finally rejoined Murdock in the Suburban.

"Well . . ." Hannibal began to say, trailing off before he could say anything more. The grin on his face and the sparkle in his eyes indicated that he was still very much on the Jazz. He normally played along with Murdock's antics, but this time he seemed to be getting a huge kick out of tormenting the pilot and tried to drag it on for as long as he possibly could . . . to milk it for every moment it was worth.

The lanky Texan looked that much more desperate to try and learn the answer. It was very apparent in his eyes . . . the yearning, the wanting to know. It spoke volumes, almost as much as his arm movements with how he kept bringing them up and then putting them back to his side expressively. If one didn't know better, they likely could have sworn that he was Italian since they were generally regarded as being expressive with their hands as they talked. "Aw, come on, Colonel," he started to beg. "Please, please, please . . . what is it?"

Hannibal reached into his unzippered parka and deftly pulled out a cigar from his safari jacket that he wore underneath. He didn't grab a lighter since building regulations prevented him from lighting up while he was inside and on the Skydeck, but that didn't keep him from at least holding it. Besides, he always thought better when he had a cigar. "We . . . had a bit of help," he revealed cryptically.

The Captain simply rolled his eyes in response to that statement. He could tell not only when his Commanding Officer was drawing things out, but also when he was really enjoying something as well. "Hannibal . . ." he groaned in an almost pleading voice, not sure if he could take much more of this torment.

"From Decker's daughter . . ." the strategist revealed, the grin on his face bigger and brighter than ever.

The reaction was instant.

"What?!" the A-Team pilot practically shouted. His warm brown eyes saw some of the other visitors to the Skydeck glancing in his direction due to that outburst, which caused him to cringe slightly and give them an apologetic look. He had to wonder if the oxygen flow had been cut off from his brain for a moment because he wasn't sure that he had heard right and it left him completely speechless. After a moment, when he was able to find his voice, he continued in softer tones, "You guys must be pullin' my leg. I didn't even know Decker had a daughter. C'mon, how'd you guys really get away?"

Bosco Andre Baracus was clearly enjoying this, and it was very apparent through his light, high-pitched giggles. "Sorry, crazy fool, but we didn't either 'til yesterday. Hannibal's telling the truth," he managed to say in between the snickering.

One thing was for sure . . . if BA had affirmed what the Colonel had said, then it had to be true. He knew how strongly the Sergeant felt when it came to lying and liars, and he wouldn't dare tell a lie himself . . . especially not in front of his mother. It was bad enough that Face did all of his conning and scamming, which didn't sit well with the muscular mechanic. That left one question that begged to be answered . . . and a totally logical question too, even though he still found the whole idea humorous. "What'cha guys do? Have Face hit on her?"

"Murdock!" Mrs. B said in a tone that was a mix of being amused and scolding someone. Hannibal and BA, on the other hand, simply started laughing.

Face let out a bit of a sigh as he continued to look out one of the windows toward the Magnificent Mile. He fondly recalled how beautiful Nicole had been. He would have loved to have taken the trouble and look her up again . . . but he wasn't crazy. Doing so would have meant the possibility of Decker finding out, which would land him behind bars faster than he could sing Jingle Bells. If only she hadn't been Decker's daughter . . .

Murdock moved over to the windows along the east side of the Skydeck and looked out them. The daylight was starting to fade faster, yielding to a gorgeous starry night sky over the brilliant lights of downtown Chicago and the expansive Lake Michigan that lay just beyond. His warm brown eyes then spotted something that drew his attention skyward. "Hey guys, look!" he called out enthusiastically. "Shooting stars, and lots of 'em. That's good luck, especially on Christmas Eve. Everyone make a wish."

For a moment, the Lieutenant looked up in the direction that his best friend had pointed out. Set against the dusk, he could see the brilliant shimmering of the stars that started to dot the sky above them . . . but then he spotted it. There was a streak of light that raced across the heavens. It was brief and gone in almost the blink of an eye, but then almost as soon as that one had vanished from sight another one could be spotted, and then another . . .

He returned his gaze to the windows to the north on the Skydeck, and the view outside of it. As he did so, a small but brief smile appeared upon his lips. He remembered watching a similar meteor shower out the windows of the dormitory owned by the orphanage when he was young. At first, he had no idea what he was seeing and had feared that the world was going to end, so he ran to ask some of the nuns what it was. Sister Agnes simply brushed him off, telling him that it was Satan and his demons throwing fire at little children who did not get into bed on time. Hearing that made him so fearful that he ran up to his bed in the dorm and jumped into it, pulling the sheets over his head for whatever flimsy protection it would provide.

A few moments later, as he had been hiding under the covers, he felt someone sit upon his bed. That frightened him, and he slowly pulled the covers down until his large blue eyes peeked out from his makeshift sanctuary and spotted Sister Margaret. Her voice was gentle as she explained to him that each star was a blessing that God sent to the Earth, and if he closed his eyes one of those stars might find his bed. Hearing that comforted him and helped him to relax to the point where he allowed her to tuck him into bed.

That brought back so many happy memories of Sister Margaret as he recalled how gentle she had been with him and all of the other orphans. It seemed like she had really cared about all of them like they were her own children, and worked hard to make each one feel safe and protected. Things had always been more hopeful when she was around due to how she made everything seem so positive, no matter how bad things appeared to be. Then, when he was around ten, she died . . .

He looked down to the city below him, his blue eyes studying the blinking lights that made it look like how diamonds and sequins sparkled on some of the most gorgeous evening gowns that women wore. He always loved to look at a city at dusk, just before it turned completely dark, and from a high vantage point. And, for its own part, the city of Chicago looked absolutely stunning with all of the Christmas lights adorning the various objects along the streets like the trees, and also on the buildings.

He hated to admit it, but he was really going to miss this city once they had to leave. It was really starting to grow on him, and he was coming to appreciate all that it had to offer . . . especially thanks to Mrs. Baracus and taking the time to show them the many sights that there were to see. But, he knew that they couldn't stay there forever . . .

Even though Decker had agreed to let them go and seemed to be holding to his word, making no efforts to try and catch them for the time being, although he knew that wasn't going to last. After all, he had only promised them to leave them alone until Christmas . . . but after that, they were open game again and he knew exactly where to find them.

It was for that very reason that his thrill seeking Commanding Officer wasn't ready to press their luck. Although he had been getting a bit antsy to leave, Mrs. B convinced the Colonel to let them stay for Christmas Day itself. But, if they had any intent to not be arrested by Decker, they were likely going to have to fly out of there late Christmas night and head back to Los Angeles.

His well-honed and war-trained senses picked up movement beside him before he could see the reflection of his leader and mentor in the expansive window. His sense of timing was almost uncanny, especially since he had just been thinking about him a moment ago. He could hear Murdock, who stood several feet away, as he chattered on excitedly about the shooting stars and flying.

"What's up, kid?" Hannibal asked as he looked at his Lieutenant, his ice blue eyes showing a great deal of concern for the young man next to him. "You've been quiet all evening. You worried that Decker might go back on his word and show up?"

"Nah, it's not that. It's . . ." Face's voice trailed off as he shook his head slightly. He was having a hard time trying to put the incredible feeling of peace and contentment he felt here into words . . . being high above the city and the rest of the world, away from all of the troubles below. Up here, he could almost understand what it must have felt like on that first Christmas light. It was no wonder why Murdock loved flying so much with the sense of freedom that it likely gave him with being up this high. His blue eyes followed the lights of the elevated train as it ran along the tracks through the Loop.

"The fact that it's Christmas tomorrow?" Hannibal asked quietly, trying to see if maybe he was on the right track with finishing his Lieutenant's statement. The con artist had been a grouch about Christmas, and although they had a hard conversation about it at the Museum, he still wasn't sure if he had managed to get through to him with the point he had been trying to make.

Templeton Peck remained quiet for a moment . . . but it wasn't that he was ignoring what the Colonel had stated. It was more of a thoughtful silence . . . almost as if he was reflecting upon not only what his leader had just said, but also other things as well. After a moment, he began to explain, "You know, I remember the first year things got really tough at the orphanage. It was right before Christmas and I had stopped to look through the window of a toy store on the way back from school. The display they had inside was just incredible."

Face paused and closed his eyes, almost as if trying to recall a vision from the past and find a way to put it into words. With a child-like wonderment that embodied the delight he had when he was younger, he continued, "There were bunches and bunches of tiny houses and stores and churches, all with a dusting of snow and Christmas decorations. Through it all there ran a train, going around and around on a track. I remember it was red, black, and silver, and I had never seen anything like it before. I wanted it so badly, but orphans didn't get toys like that."

Silence settled between the two men. Hannibal watched as his trusted second in command open his eyes, but instead of looking at him Face continued to look out the window. For the normally unflappable Colonel, hearing the young man explain this part of his past was almost agonizing. He didn't want to interrupt the tale since it seemed like there was more to it, but he also wasn't sure how he could show some support without it getting to be too . . . mushy. He shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to another as he waited for the story to continue to be told.

Face's gaze again caught sight of one of the EL trains that ran along the tracks. This one was heading west along the rails over Lake Street, which meant that it was likely the Green Line going to Oak Park. He drew in a breath and then continued his story, "I remember this guy came out with a bunch of packages. He was older grey hair that was starting to turn white, a moustache, and round horn-rimmed glasses. I didn't really pay attention to him at first because I was totally engrossed with watching that train, but he stood there watching me for quite some time. Then, he put his packages down and asked me what my name was and where I lived . . ."

Hannibal cocked his head curiously at this turn of events. He hadn't expected this turn of events . . . of another person to creep into the story that likely wasn't from the orphanage. "What did he want?" he inquired, hoping that maybe that getting all of this off the Lieutenant's chest would be good for him.

"Nothing," Templeton responded with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "He told me that he was the owner of the store and was just curious. I'm actually surprised he didn't run me off. Most store owners don't like street children or orphans hanging around their stores. Greater risk of shoplifting, I guess."

The Colonel simply nodded, again not wanting to interrupt the tale. It seemed as if his Supply Officer was starting to really open up and he didn't want to say anything that would disrupt that progress.

"When I got back to the orphanage that night, all I could think about was that toy train. I was too old to believe in Santa, so I stayed up until well into the night and prayed to God that He would let me have it," Face noted with a slight bit of hesitancy within his voice. The flood gates were already open, so he couldn't take back what he had already revealed . . . and he couldn't stop now because that would lead to a lot more questions. He knew that it was best to share everything at this point. "The next day was Christmas and Father Maghill had to explain to us why every child in the world was getting presents except for us. I was old enough to understand the financial problems the orphanage was facing, but still . . . by not getting that train, I thought God had betrayed me. I thought He didn't listen to orphans like me, and I swore that I would never pray or speak to Him again."

Truthfully, the A-Team's Commanding Officer was surprised by the bitterness that seemed to seep through. He knew that Face was Catholic, and raised in a Catholic orphanage, but he never thought that someone who had been brought up in that kind of atmosphere would have turned his back on God in that way.

"Sister Margaret found me in my room a few hours later and tried to talk to me, but I wouldn't listen to anything she had to say. I could be quite stubborn when I wanted to be, especially if I decided I wasn't going to cooperate, whether it was with the nuns or with God," the Lieutenant laughed quietly.

That comment was enough to cause a small smirk to appear upon Hannibal's lips. From their time together since Vietnam, whenever Face got an idea in his head it was often hard to get him to consider something otherwise. He just wouldn't give up. In some ways, that could be a good thing, but other times . . . well, it became challenging. At least he was aware and able to admit that he was stubborn.

"It was because I was sulking in my room that I missed all the excitement at dinner that night. Somebody brought a truck load of packages for all the children in the orphanage." The blonde-haired man smiled slightly as a sparkle seemed to re-enter his eyes that had been missing for a long time during this time of year. "Sister Margaret brought mine up to me. It was wrapped in red paper with silver stars on it, and it had a little tag on it that read 'To Templeton Peck, Sacred Heart Orphanage. Merry Christmas.' Mine was the only one that had been addressed to a specific child."

"The train from the store?" Hannibal guessed with a slight smile. If that was the case, it was a such a simple act of kindness that served to provide a bright spot in a young and impressionable boy's life. Maybe by remembering that gesture, it would go far to drive home the point that the Colonel had made at the Museum.

Face nodded slightly as he continued to gaze out over the city, now mostly covered with darkness. The last strains of daylight had faded along with the orange glow, yielding to a black starry night sky. Only the individual lights that remained lit on the various buildings helped to give the city shape and character. Truthfully, he had almost forgotten about getting the gift since Sister Margaret had died shortly after that had taken place. That only had made the initial pain and bitterness of not getting the train that morning that much stronger. He just didn't realize how much it had affected him until now.

"You were right, you know. I had always thought that if I didn't have a family, someone to give me gifts at Christmas, that I was somehow less special . . . less important," Templeton admitted quietly. It was clear that he was struggling to put his thoughts into words. Trying to remember everything and then sharing that information about his past, especially to his Commanding Officer, was difficult. But, as he thought about it, if there was anyone he was going to share it with, he wouldn't have wanted it to have been any other else. He drew in a breath and then noted, "Maybe families aren't made up of a mom and dad and 2.5 kids. Maybe they are made up of people who care enough to address a present specifically to a single orphan boy out of a million others in the city."

He reached up with his left hand and gingerly touched the healing wound he had suffered. 'Or friends who stick with each other, even when one is wounded or a liability,' he thought to himself. As dysfunctional as they were, he and the other members of the A-Team were a family. He had just failed to realize it before, just as he failed to see past his traditional definition of a family.

He felt Hannibal's eyes on him, but the young con artist didn't turn to look at the Colonel. He kept his gaze out the window hoping that, between continuing to look out at the city of Chicago and the low lighting of the Skydeck, it would be enough to hide the slight touch of moistness he felt at the corners of his eyes. He waited for his friend and mentor to say something, however, his Commanding Officer simply clapped a hand on his left shoulder and stood silently beside him, also watching the lights of the city glow and sparkle for miles around them.

The Lieutenant knew, with that simple act from his leader and friend, he would always have someone who was willing to stand by him . . . no matter what happened.

Templeton Peck smiled slightly. For the first time in a very long time, he found that he was actually looking forward to Christmas tomorrow, and to spending it with his family and Mrs. Baracus. And just maybe, like the chick he had watched as it hatched at the Museum, he had managed to put a tiny crack in that hard shell which surrounded him. It was hard work but perhaps, someday and with the help of his friends, the entire shell would come off.

Author's Note: And there you have it - the conclusion of Fire and Ice, a fanfic I originally co-wrote 11 years ago and decided to revise. For those of you who are curious, many of the places listed in this fanfic still exist in Chicago today including the Museum of Science and Industry, the Chicago Hilton and Towers, and the Sears Tower (now named the Willis Tower). Meigs Field was famously destroyed by Mayor Daley shortly after the events of 9/11 and converted into a lakefront park and concert venue, and the ice rink at Block 37 has been relocated to Millenium Park in favor of new development on that once-vacant land.

I would like to thank everyone for taking the time to read it, and especially to everyone who was kind enough to list it as a favorite, follow it, or leave a review. I'm going to resume work on my epic A-Team/Quantum Leap crossover fic, A Twist In Time, which I also hope that you will take the time to read as well.