As per usual, none of the characters belong to me. (More's the pity!) And please feel free to let me know what you think; feedback is always welcome.

The anniversary

Milton Hardcastle looked at the calendar and sighed. It was hard to believe that in just a few days, it would be a year since his retirement from the bench. A year since the beginning of his special project. And a year since he'd convinced Mark McCormick to take up his offer of being a partner in his crime-fighting activities. Although on second thought, 'convinced' might be the wrong word. He hadn't given the kid much choice in the matter. Still, things had worked out even better than he'd hoped. Mark was still the same boisterous young man he'd first met in his courtroom, and nothing they'd seen or experienced over the last year seemed to have curbed the youthful enthusiasm or smart comments. Perhaps nothing ever would. Hardcastle didn't want the younger man to change too much, but he hoped that Mark would at least soon learn to curb his natural tendency to speak before thinking, as it tended to get the younger man into trouble. But once the trouble started, Mark was the most reliable partner he could have hoped for. Mark had never once let him down, or made him doubt his decision to ask Mark to join him on his personal crusade.

In other ways, though, Mark had changed. He was more introspective at times, and not at all cowed by the judge's authority. He would argue against a course of action if he thought it too dangerous, yet he would support Hardcastle's final decision on a subject and do his best to make things work out right. And a year of living with the kid had shown Hardcastle that there were depths to the ex-con that he never would have suspected. The smart-alec behaviour was a wonderful façade for a scared and insecure young man to hide behind.

He wondered if he should mention the anniversary to Mark, but then he thought that the younger man might not want to be reminded of the choice he'd been forced to make, or the reasons behind it. After all, it was only Flip Johnson's death that had made McCormick agree to working with Hardcastle in the first place. The thought suddenly crossed his mind that McCormick might not really want to be at Gulls Way at all, and was just humouring Hardcastle until his parole was completed. Perhaps he should find a way to find out what the kid really felt. After all, if Mark wanted to be somewhere else for the rest of his parole, then Hardcastle was sure he could work something out with the Parole Board. With all the criminals Mark had helped to put behind bars over the last year, there shouldn't be any problem getting alterations made to his parole.

The only problem was that McCormick never really talked about things like Flip's death or the reasons he had accepted Hardcastle's proposal, and he would get suspicious if the judge were to bring it up. Hardcastle snorted with silent amusement at his own behaviour. A year ago he wouldn't have been concerned with what the other man wanted; he would have just told him what he expected him to do. Perhaps Mark wasn't the only one who had changed over the last year.

00000

Mark looked at his calendar, pinned to the side of the wardrobe in his bedroom, and wondered how the past year had managed to go by so fast. It seemed like only yesterday that he'd teamed up with Hardcastle and gone after Flip's killers. In one short year, he'd lost a good friend, possibly the best he'd ever had. He'd lost his promising racing career. He'd even lost his freedom.

And yet, he'd gained something else. A number of things, actually, when he stopped to think about it. The chance to put Flip's killers behind bars. The opportunity to do something worthwhile. A way to stay out of prison, and make a better life for himself. Hardcastle.

Mark wasn't sure when he'd realised that all the good things in his life were directly tied to the judge and his opinions. He also wasn't sure when Hardcastle's approval had begun to matter so much to him that his actions were often dictated by what he thought the judge would say.

It wasn't as if he'd given up the notion of independent thought since moving to Hardcastle's estate. He would argue a point till he was blue in the face, if he thought the judge needed to consider the possible consequences of one of his plans more seriously before he acted. But when things came to a head, he'd support the older man, no matter how things turned out. He knew Hardcastle thought he gave in because the judge was the one who controlled their relationship, and the rest of Mark's parole. Mark had no intention of letting the other man know that the real reason was very different. He supported Hardcastle because the man had yet to lead him wrong. The judge didn't need to know that Mark followed him out of respect, and a belief that the judge's wisdom was something worthy of being admired.

In spite of his desire to keep his admiration of the older man hidden, Mark felt the need to do something to mark the anniversary of what was most likely the most important date in his life. But how did you celebrate the anniversary of a murder, a possible prison term, and the commencement of the strangest partnership he'd ever imagined? He was absolutely positive that Hallmark didn't make a card for this type of event. What would it say, anyway? 'Happy anniversary, thanks for not putting me back in jail'? At least, he still had a couple of days to think of something to show the judge how he truly felt about his life at the moment, and how grateful he was to have a second chance.

00000

Hardcastle woke the next morning, still troubled by his thoughts of Mark. Giving himself a mental shake, he decided to put the concerns aside until after his daily basketball match. Perhaps then he could think of some way to celebrate the day both their lives had changed irrevocably. Hopefully, in both cases, changed for the better.

The basketball game was hard fought, as always, with Mark managing to beat the judge by two points. Losing the game was almost worth it, to see the gleeful grin on the other man's face. "Watch out, Hardcase, soon I'll be beating you every day!"

"In your dreams, hotshot. I just felt sorry for you. You've lost every day for the last week, and I figured you'd take your aggravation out on the lawn." The sharp words were offset by a quick grin, reassuring the younger man that the judge was really just kidding. "Not a chance, Judge. I don't need any provocation to attack your lawn. I know it hates me; that's the only reason it grows so fast. Personally, I think you should thank me for my self-control, 'cause I would have killed it months ago if I could have figured out how to do it." The accompanying rueful laugh showed a resigned acceptance of the vagaries of all growing things in Hardcastle's realm of influence.

Leading the way to the kitchen to make breakfast, Mark couldn't resist one more subtle dig, "So, what do I get for beating you this morning, Judge? Another petty criminal to hunt down, or something else?" The judge just laughed and shook his head, but the question started him thinking. Maybe he could get the kid something to show his appreciation for the last year. But how to decide on the appropriate gift?

Over breakfast, the conversation stayed on general topics, but Hardcastle really listened to every word Mark said. Often, the two men would just talk and let their shared experiences fill in the blanks. But this time, Hardcastle made a point of noting the specifics of every single thing Mark said. Most of the time, the younger man was talking about the work that needed doing in the gardens, or somewhere else on the estate. There were always garden beds to weed, roses to mulch, the odd door to be painted, the lawnmower to be repaired; the list seemed endless. And then there were the cases Hardcastle wanted to follow up on, and criminals to catch. The odd comment about servicing the cars also crept into the topics covered this particular morning.

The revelation hit the judge suddenly that Mark hadn't had one day off since accepting Hardcastle's conditions. The ideal gift idea popped into his head instantly. He would give the kid a day off, and maybe they'd go to San Francisco and go sightseeing. They'd both seen more than enough of Los Angeles, both good and bad, over the last year. Hopefully, Mark would enjoy the day and realise that Hardcastle didn't just see him as free labour anymore. A few more seconds' thought convinced the judge that a long weekend would be a better idea.

As soon as Mark left the main house, Hardcastle went to his den and made a few calls to set things in motion. The travel agent would find him a pleasant little hotel somewhere pretty for the two nights they would be in town. Frank would keep an eye on the one criminal mastermind he'd been planning to chase down next. He'd also booked tickets to take a tour of Alcatraz. He'd always wanted to see the island prison, and he didn't think Mark would mind the trip much. Who knew, maybe the kid had always wanted to see the famous prison too.

The whole trip was organised in a couple of hours, leaving Hardcastle with only one problem. How was he going to tell Mark what he had planned? He could always simply order the younger man to go, but that went against the spirit of the whole idea. Admitting that he had no clue as to how to broach the subject, Hardcastle let it slide for the moment. After all, he had until the next evening to tell the kid about the plans.

Mark had finally finished mowing the back lawn, and decided that he would spend the afternoon getting the necessary spares to change the oil in the truck, as well as picking up more car polish and buying new blades for the mower. The last section of lawn had been difficult to cut as the blades were definitely past their best. He got cleaned up before popping into the main house to see what the judge wanted for lunch. The judge was just hanging up the telephone as he walked into the den, and Mark waited until the older man was finished before speaking. "So, what's Frank got for us today? More news on your latest case?" "Nothing, kiddo, just calling to see how things are going." Something about Hardcastle's attitude suggested that Mark should let the subject drop, so he moved on. "I'm going to town after lunch, Judge. Anything you need?"

Hardcastle gave it a moment's thought and then shook his head. "Nope. Thanks for asking, though. Are you having lunch here first?" At Mark's nod, the two men headed for the kitchen to raid the leftovers in the refrigerator. Half an hour later, the judge watched Mark swing the Coyote out of the drive onto the road to town.

Mark ran his errands in the minimum amount of time, not dawdling as he sometimes did. He was hoping inspiration would strike about how to make his thoughts about their first anniversary clear to the judge. When he'd finished everything necessary, he found himself standing on the traffic island in the middle of one of the small local roads, which was lined on both sides with small businesses. Opposite him was a small stationery shop, with a display of greeting cards in the window. Smiling at his previous day's thoughts about Hallmark cards, Mark wandered into shop and looked at the display. His preoccupation with anniversaries drew Mark's attention to the anniversary cards, and he was surprised to realise that not all of the cards had printed sentiments. Some were blank, and for some reason, the blank space called out to Mark. Not even sure what was behind the action, Mark reached up and took down a simple card printed with 'Happy Anniversary' in dark blue, over a picture of the ocean. Buying the card before he could change his mind, Mark left the shop quickly and headed back to the car.

On the trip home, he reconsidered his actions at least five times. Just what did he plan to say in the card? And how could he expect to put into writing something he wasn't even sure he could say out loud? Hoping that things would look better later that evening, or even the next day, he headed down the highway towards his home.

00000

Later that evening, Mark stared at the blank card and cursed his impulsiveness. No matter how hard he tried, the words just wouldn't come. Screwed up balls of paper scattered around the couch testified to the numerous attempts he'd already made. Giving himself a stern mental talking to, he settled down to try one more time. Interestingly enough, the mental voice had sounded a lot like the judge. Now that was a frightening thought! Picking up his pen, Mark bent his head over the card and started to write.

00000

Early the next morning, Hardcastle headed out to the basketball court for his practice throws. Passing through the kitchen on the way to the court, he stopped long enough to place a plain white envelope at Mark's place at the table. He'd come to the conclusion that trying to explain his actions would only be awkward for both of them, so he'd let Mark read the papers in the envelope and make his own deductions. As he put the envelope down, he smiled at the thought that Mark had a place of his own at the table. How had it taken him so long to recognise the space Mark filled in his house, and his life?

As he was about to start bouncing the ball, he spotted a white envelope at the bottom of the pole holding the basketball net. Walking over, he bent down to pick up the envelope, finding it was addressed to him. He recognised the writing as Mark's, and his curiosity got the better of him. Putting the ball down, he lowered himself to the lawn near the court and opened the envelope, pulling out a card wishing him a happy anniversary. Well, that answered the question of whether the younger man was aware of the date. Considering the card, Hardcastle realised that he had his answer to whether or not the kid was happy with their arrangement. Surely, the card was a good omen.

Opening the card, the judge found a handwritten message inside:

Hardcase,

I wanted to thank you for the last year of my life. It's been the best year I've had in far too long. I know you didn't have to offer me any sort of deal, but I'm grateful that you did. I hope that what I've learned from you will make me a better person in the years to come. I know I whine and moan a lot, but under it all, Judge, please know that I respect and admire you more than I can say. You've become like family to me, and I hope I can live up to that standard.

(love)

Mark

Hardcastle blinked hard to clear the sudden moisture from his eyes. The kid certainly knew how to get past his defences without even trying. Re-reading the message, he realised how hard it must have been for Mark to write the words. Long-term relationships had never gone well for the younger man, and although Hardcastle had hoped that Mark felt at home on the estate, he'd never been sure. It was good to realise that his instincts had been right on target with Mark, but it meant even more to know that the other man had seen underneath his bluster to the real Hardcastle, and appreciated what the rest of the world didn't often see. Now that he'd earned Mark's trust, he resolved to protect that precious gift with everything he had. Most of all, he never wanted the kid to regret the most important word in the card, even if the brackets showed how uncertain Mark had been about admitting it in the first place.

Hearing the soft scrape of a shoe against the concrete, Hardcastle looked up to see Mark watching him. The expression in the kid's eyes was wary, watchful, and the body language screamed that the younger man was ready to bolt at the slightest thing. Hardcastle made a show of putting the card back in the envelope and placing it in his pocket. Mark relaxed slightly at the action, and the judge smiled, "I thought you had guts when I made the offer a year ago, kiddo, but this … this is something special. Just so you know, the feeling's mutual." Hardcastle's fingers sketched a pair of brackets in the air. Mark blinked quickly, and then a shy smile started to grow on his face. "Now, move it, kiddo. Are we playing ball, or are we just going to stand around wasting sunshine?"

The game was vicious and fast-paced, but the judge managed to snag the winning points after 'accidentally' bumping Mark out of the path of his final throw. The two men were still arguing the legality of the judge's win when they made it into the kitchen for breakfast. Mark's endless chatter came to a sudden stop when he saw the envelope on the table. Slowly he reached out, and picked it up. The contents of the envelope stunned him. "But, Judge, this is …" He waved the papers at the judge. Hardcastle nodded, "Yup. A few days holiday in San Francisco, Mark. A little sightseeing, a little relaxation. I thought we could use a break. Frank can keep the crime under control by himself for a few days."

"I'll remind you of that the next time you get too personally interested in one of his cases, Judge." Hardcastle laughed and shook his head. The younger man would do exactly that, but he knew as he smiled at Mark, that he wouldn't want it any other way.