The family we choose
Mark sat slumped in the chair in the emergency room. His head throbbed unmercifully, but he tried to ignore it. He'd been knocked on the head often enough that he was fairly sure it was nothing more serious than a bad headache, even though the doctor had felt it necessary to stitch the bleeding cut along his hairline. He knew that he would have to give a statement to the police, and he didn't see any point in going back to the estate before he dealt with the formalities. That was why he'd asked the staff to call Frank Harper, rather than Hardcastle.
He knew that he'd never hear the end of this from Hardcastle. The judge had been opposed to him taking extra classes at night, especially as they were all extra study groups and tutoring sessions. The judge was convinced that Mark was doing well enough without the extra studying, but Mark was so afraid of disappointing the judge that he signed up for every extra class he could afford.
Mark had never thought that stopping at the gas station to fill up the Coyote would find him facing a carjacker. Luckily, the guy had only used the knife to intimidate Mark and get him out of the car. Of course, as soon as the guy had got a good look at the Coyote, he'd realised that there was no way he'd be able to drive it. That was when he demanded that Mark hand over his wallet and his jewellery. The wallet had been an easy enough thing to part with. After all, it wasn't like Mark ever had a lot of money. But when the guy had demanded that Mark hand over his St Jude medal and the watch Hardcastle had given him, Mark had balked.
The refusal had set the attacker off. He had come after Mark with the knife, and when Mark had stepped back to avoid being slashed, he had caught his foot on the uneven ground. That minor opening had allowed the carjacker to shove Mark into the nearest wall, headfirst. Then the attacker had turned to run, only to come face to face with the owner of the gas station, who had already called the police. It turned out that the carjacker was nothing more than a university student desperate for his next drug fix. Mark was lucky he hadn't been stabbed, although he could already picture the look on Hardcastle's face when he heard the whole story. He wasn't really looking forward to giving his statement either, but some things just couldn't be helped.
The attacker was now cooling his heels in a police holding cell, while Mark had been in the emergency room letting the doctors poke and prod. Looking up, he saw Lieutenant Frank Harper approaching. He managed to get up off the chair without swaying too badly, but Frank was there in an instant, taking hold of his arm.
"Mark, are you sure you want to do this now? Wouldn't you rather I just took you back to Gull's Way instead?" Frank's concern was genuine, but Mark didn't feel up to facing Hardcastle at the moment.
"I'm fine, Frank, you know I've got a hard head."
"It's good to hear you admit it, hotshot," came a familiar voice from behind him. Mark tried to turn around to see how the judge had managed to sneak up on him, but stopped with a moan as the room spun around him. He felt the judge grab his other arm, and then the two older men were helping him sit down on the chair again. "It's a good thing Frank called me, kiddo, you're in no state to drive home."
"I really don't think you should be worrying about your statement now, Mark. I'm going to let Milt take you back to the estate now, and I'll come out tomorrow to get it from you." Frank's tone was definite this time, and Mark knew he wouldn't be able to change Frank's mind. He gave in with a sigh and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes to block out the sight of Hardcastle staring at him.
Hardcastle looked at the too-pale face, and signalled to Frank to stay nearby. "I'm going to get you signed out, kiddo, and then we can get going. Frank'll take care of the Coyote for you, and we'll pick it up tomorrow." Mark acknowledged this statement with a twitch of his hand. Moving anything else simply took too much effort.
Hardcastle collected all the necessary paperwork, and was about to leave when he was waylaid by the doctor who had treated Mark. The doctor had a list of instructions on Mark's care for the next few days, as he was sure Mark had a minor concussion as well as the wound on his head.
The trip back up the coast was a quiet one, but Mark could sense that Hardcastle was itching to speak his mind. Trying to avoid the inevitable, he let his head fall back against the seat and closed his eyes. When they finally made it into the driveway at the estate, Mark sighed "Okay, let's just get this over with."
Hardcastle took one look at the younger man's pale face, and decided that anything he wanted to say could wait a few more hours. There was more going on here than met the eye, but Hardcastle had a feeling that asking a direct question would simply make the younger man clam up. "I don't know what you mean, McCormick. Maybe the doctors missed something when they looked at your head, you seem to be imagining things." Although the tone was brusque and slightly teasing, the judge was actually trying to hide some very real concern. The kid did look washed out and his eyes had a pained squint in spite of the painkillers the hospital had provided. And down below that, something else looked to be bothering the kid as well.
"In that case, I'm going to bed," McCormick muttered as he dragged himself out of the car and started off towards the gatehouse. It seemed much further away than he remembered, and he had a feeling it would take all the energy he had just to make it to the door. Well, it wouldn't be the first time he'd slept downstairs on the couch. Maybe he'd feel more energetic in the morning.
"C'mon, kiddo, why don't you spend the night in the spare room?" Hardcastle's worry had kicked up a notch, and he didn't want Mark to be alone. He hadn't wanted Mark to take all these night classes in the first place, and now it seems his fears had been well founded. "I'm fine, Hardcase. Just need to get some sleep." Mark turned away from the judge and started across the lawn. Three steps later, he found himself on his knees on the grass.
Hardcastle had moved the second he saw Mark start to waver, and was there as Mark's knees hit the ground. Taking a firm grip on Mark's shoulders, he helped the young man stand up, and then turned them both towards the main house. "That does it, kiddo, tonight you sleep where I can keep an eye on you." The concern was evident in his voice, and Mark just sighed and gave in. He knew the judge cared, but he was still getting used to the fact that he didn't have to do everything himself anymore.
Leading Mark into the house, Hardcastle left him leaning against the wall while he put the lights on and closed the door behind them. Then he led Mark upstairs to the spare bedroom. Sitting the ex-con down on the bed, he pulled out the list of instructions from the doctor. Running his eye down the list, he came to dizziness as a symptom of concussion, along with extreme fatigue. Pleased that the papers confirmed his own diagnosis, the judge decided that he would wake Mark every couple of hours for a concussion check.
Pulling back the covers, he helped McCormick into bed, taking the younger man's shoes off for him, when the process became too much for exhausted man. As soon as his head hit the pillow, Mark was sound asleep. Hardcastle stood and looked at the young man for a moment, and then went downstairs to call Frank. The phone call yielded more information, including the name of Mark's attacker and the fact that the attacker was a university student with a drug problem.
After making himself a sandwich, the judge went back upstairs to check on Mark. The young man was still sleeping soundly, and the judge hated to wake him, but it had to be done. Reaching out a hand, he gently shook McCormick's shoulder. "Wake up, kiddo." Mark tried to roll away from the judge but found himself stopped by a firm grip on his shoulder. Managing to force his eyes open, he glared at the judge. "Hardcase, I'm trying to sleep here. Leave me alone." The judge simply snickered, and answered "I guess that means you're okay for now, hotshot. Go back to sleep." The rest of the night passed peacefully, with a similar reaction every time the judge woke Mark up.
As the sun rose the next morning, Mark woke up and realised where he'd spent the night. He could see the judge asleep in a chair in the corner of the room, and he remembered being woken regularly during the night. He smiled as he let himself admit just how much the judge cared for him. It was an unusual feeling, and he lay back to let himself savour it. When he sat up again he notice that Hardcastle was awake and watching him. "Morning, Judge. It's going to be a beautiful day."
Hardcastle simply nodded and smiled, then suggested "How about breakfast, kiddo?" At McCormick's enthusiastic nod, he led the way downstairs to what seemed like the start of another normal day. Mark knew that the previous night's incident was going to come up soon enough, and kept the topics of conversation as far from it as he could. All too soon, though, breakfast was cleared away, and Hardcastle sat back and said, "I've spoken to Frank. I know you were carjacked at the gas station. What I don't get is why he attacked you when you were already out of the car?"
Mark sighed. He'd known this was coming, but he'd hoped to have more time to think before the question came up. Deciding to get it over with, he told the story as quickly and simply as he could, glossing over the demand for the medal and the watch, and ending with "and then you and Frank showed up at the hospital."
"Well, that makes sense, I suppose, but what made him go after you after you'd given him your wallet?" Hardcastle sounded genuinely puzzled, and before he could stop himself, Mark found himself telling the judge how the attacker had demanded the medal and watch, and his refusal to give them up. Hardcastle just sat and looked at him for a moment, and them smiled sadly "I guess I understand that, in a way, kiddo. But Mark, you have to remember something, no piece of jewellery is ever going to be worth your life."
"I know that, Judge, but … I … it's … the medal is the only connection I have to my mom Judge. I just couldn't give it up. I know it's stupid, but when he told me to give it to him, I just couldn't do it." Mark sounded both sad and defiant, as if he expected Hardcastle to argue with him. Instead, the judge looked steadily at him, and smiled slightly. "It's a connection to your family, isn't it?" Relieved at the understanding, Mark nodded slightly. "I know it's dumb, Judge, but I felt like I would be disappointing my mom by losing the only thing she left me. It's like she gave it to me to look after, and I just couldn't let him take it."
"You should have given him the watch, kiddo. Then maybe he wouldn't have bounced your head off the wall." Hardcastle sympathised. Mark was so relieved that the judge understood his reasons, that he wasn't listening properly. "But Judge, I just told you why I couldn't give him the medal. I couldn't disappoint my family." The sudden, blinding smile on the judge's face made Mark stop talking, and then he realised what the judge had said. Blushing bright red, and suddenly unaccountably shy, Mark dropped his eyes to the table. Very quietly, he heard the judge murmur, "I chose you too."