It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was. - Anne Sexton
"Hey, Colonel! You see today's paper?"
Hannibal looked up from the pistol he was cleaning. "Not yet, Murdock. Why? Decker making up more stories about us?"
"No, something better. It says here it's National Smith Day." He looked over the edge of the paper, grinning widely. "You got a whole day named after you, Colonel."
Hannibal returned the grin. "Really? Hm, well, I can't say it isn't deserved." He winked as Face groaned. "What's the matter, Face? There are a lot of famous Smith's, you know. Edmund Smith, a general in the Confederate Army, for instance."
Face smiled slyly. "Yeah, and Edward Smith, captain of the Titanic."
Hannibal frowned. "Captain John Smith, of Pocahontas fame."
Murdock dropped the paper. "Adam Smith, the economist."
BA looked up, a small smile on his face. "Hilton Lee Smith, pitcher in the Negro League."
Face grinned triumphantly. "Soapy Smith, infamous confidence man."
Hannibal glared at his own con man. "You trying to make some kind of point, Lieutenant?"
Face shrugged, suddenly innocent. "Not at all, Colonel. Not at all."
"Hey, maybe you're related to some of those guys, Hannibal. That'd be something, related to a great American hero."
Hannibal smiled. "I'm sure my mother would have let me know if I was. No, I'm from a long line of working stiffs, Murdock. My own father went to work every day, played with us kids on the weekends, and generally led a very mundane life, just paying the bills and supporting his family."
Face stood up and stretched, heading for the kitchen, speaking so softly Hannibal almost didn't hear.
"Sounds like a hero to me..."