Once Bitten- Cheride

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only. The characters and concepts of Hardcastle and McCormick do not belong to me, but to their creators. Twinkies don't belong to me, either, though it's possible if I had bought stock instead of snack cakes, I might have a controlling interest by now!

Many thanks to my wonderful betas: Susan Z., who offers wonderful thoughts on characterization and motivation; and LM Lewis, who keeps me honest (mostly) on the technical stuff, including important details to remember when surrendering to the authorities. I am better because of them.

"Hey, McCormick; you up there?"

Mark McCormick groaned as he dragged the blanket up over his head. "He cannot be talking to me," he muttered. He tried to ignore the footsteps he heard clumping up the stairs.

"McCormick? What're you still doing in bed? It's almost eight." Milton Hardcastle's voice transitioned quickly from simply boisterous to loudly annoyed.

"I know it's almost eight," McCormick returned without removing his blanket. "And the reason I know that is because it was barely seven when I finally got to sleep, and I know that can't have been even an hour ago."

"Well, what're you doing staying up all night?" Hardcastle demanded.

McCormick sighed loudly. "It wasn't intentional. I told you last night I didn't feel well. That turned in to not sleeping well, and that has turned in to this. Now could you let me go back to sleep, please?"

Hardcastle resisted the impulse to jerk the blanket off McCormick and demand the young man crawl out of bed. "It was just a little head cold, kid; nothin' to get all whiny about. And, anyway, did you forget we've got a preliminary hearing downtown this morning?"

Under the blanket, McCormick grimaced; he had forgotten. "That's today?"

"Yeah, kiddo, that's today. So get your butt outta that bed."

Finally, the young man pulled the blanket from around his head, then sat up to face the judge. "Can't you just go without me?" he pleaded.

Hardcastle's instinctive "No," came out before he even fully registered the reddish, puffy eyes that stared back at him, or the slightly bleary demeanor that only accompanied those awakened from much needed sleep.

"C'mon, Hardcase. The prosecuting attorney already said he doesn't want my testimony; he's only interested in swearing in the retired judge, not the retired criminal. And you were only dragging me along so you could keep an eye on me, anyway. If I promise to be good, can't you go without me?"

As soon as he said it, McCormick knew that wasn't really fair. In the few weeks since Hardcastle had taken him into his custody, it was already clear that the jurist really was trying to leave the past behind and allow the ex-con the freedom to live up to his end of their rather unusual parole arrangement. But still, there was no need for him to go to the hearing, and he felt like crap.

McCormick gave a small, crooked grin, and tried it without the sarcasm. "Sorry, Judge; I really am tired. But seriously, the D.A. doesn't need me, and I really just need to rest. Are you sure you can't do this alone?"

Hardcastle hesitated as he stared at the lean figure propped against the headboard, bundled up in a blanket. The kid had been closer to the truth than he probably realized with his first smart-mouthed comment; keeping an eye on the ex-convict was precisely what he'd had in mind.

Of course, that wasn't really fair, and he knew it. In the few weeks since they'd begun this partnership, McCormick had shown no signs of betraying the terms of their agreement. On the other hand, he also wasn't the first ex-con at Gull's Way who'd managed to keep his nose clean for three short weeks. Finding someone who could be trusted for the long haul was where the judge seemed to be having the problems. His instincts told him that Mark McCormick was different in many ways—though he hadn't fully identified those differences as yet—and that he could be the one, but his instincts had been wrong before.

And so, he had been fully prepared to order McCormick out of bed when he suddenly saw the blanket flung aside as the young man swung his legs onto the floor. His hesitation must have taken longer than he thought.

"Just give me a few minutes," McCormick grumbled, as he began to gather some clothes, and it was then that Hardcastle managed to pinpoint one of the differences: McCormick understood who was in charge. Oh, the young man would argue and wheedle and cajole in hopes of getting his way, but—ultimately—Hardcastle's decisions always stood. The judge wasn't naïve enough to believe that would always be the case, but he liked the idea that McCormick seemed to understand not to push too far, too soon.

"Don't be stupid, McCormick; get your butt back in that bed."

It was hard to know who was more surprised by the words. Hardcastle hadn't really intended to say them, but McCormick surely hadn't expected to hear them.

But through his surprise, and even with his achy head, the young man managed a sincere grin. "I hope you're not joking, Judge, cuz I sure would like to take you up on that."

This time, Hardcastle didn't hesitate. "I'm not joking. Why should I drag you along just to listen to you whine and moan all day? I'll hear enough of that from the defense attorney."

McCormick didn't have to be invited twice, and he was snuggled back under his blanket before Hardcastle finished speaking. "Thanks, Judge."

"You know this means double chores tomorrow?"

"No arguments here, Hardcase, as long as I can sleep today."

Hardcastle snorted as he crossed back to the staircase. "Haven't had a day without arguments yet, kid, so why start now?" He stopped after taking one step down, then turned and met McCormick's eyes. "You know Sarah's off today." He didn't need to say anything else.

"I'll be here, Judge," Mark answered quietly, no trace of anger in his tone. He knew it would be a while before the jurist truly trusted him.

Hardcastle held the other man's gaze for several long seconds, then finally nodded slightly. "Feel better, McCormick," he instructed brusquely, as he resumed his descent, "you've got a lot of work ahead of you tomorrow."

McCormick grinned silently, and he was asleep again before Hardcastle made it to the driveway.