Acknowledgements: I choose to follow L.M. Lewis and all the writers who believe Kathy and Mark end up together. They just go together too well not to!
Disclaimers: I do not own Hardcastle and McCormick; I usually stick to Westerns; and this is for my Mother.
"You about ready, Kathy?" Mark hollered from the doorway leading to the garage.
"Mark, I can't find the keys!" Kathy ran from the living room, her glasses slipping down her nose and a distressed look on her face. "We're gonna be late and miss Matt's play," she mourned, rummaging through the kitchen catch-all drawer.
Mark glanced at his watch. Kathy was right, as usual. They had just fifteen minutes before the play started, and it took at least that long—depending on who was driving—to make it to the school.
"Don't worry about the keys, Kathy, let's just go," Mark said, grabbing a little black case from the pocket of his jacket that hung by the door.
Kathy shot him a quick look. "Mark! Well, I guess its okay."
As they ran out to the street where the Volvo was parked, Mark grinned. "Of course! It is our car!" He unzipped the pouch and in less than three minutes had their doors open and was fiddling with the wires under the dashboard. "I must be losing my touch." He winked at his wife as the car rumbled to life. Kathy frowned. "Three whole minutes!"
"Just drive, Mark."
They arrived at the school and found their seats just in time to watch the curtain rise. The 3rd grade class production of Little Red Riding Hood was for a fundraiser to send school supplies to schools in the less-advantaged part of LA, and was a huge success. Matt did a terribly convincing job as the scheming wolf, and Mark wondered for just a moment if there was a con artist gene. He quickly dismissed that thought and applauded enthusiastically at each curtain fall.
It took a minute for Matt to find them after the play, and when he did, he seemed almost surprised to see them. He submitted to Kathy's hug and Mark's pat on the back along with profuse praise, and then looked up quizzically.
"Is Grandpa back?" He asked, looking around. Hardcastle was out of town on what he had sworn up and down was a "vacation;" being out of town was the only thing that would keep the devoted "grandpa" from Matt's performance.
"No, remember, he said he'd be back day after tomorrow," Kathy answered, her voice cautious.
Matt pulled something out of his pocket and put it in Mark's hand. "I found 'em in my backpack." It was the keys to the Volvo. Mark and Kathy exchanged quick glances over Matt's head.
"Thanks Matt," Mark said smoothly, "Well, Mr. Wolf, how about an ice cream cone for our star performer?"
Matt made a wolfish face and growled out his approval.
Mark used the keys to unlock the Volvo and they talked about the play most of the way to Burger Man. At least Kathy and Mark talked; Matt seemed to be deep in thought. Finally, just before they pulled into the parking lot, he asked "Dad, if I had the keys, how did you get the car to work?"
For ten beats Mark hesitated. Kathy just looked at him. This he would have to explain. "Well, ah, you see, Matt, when you've worked on cars as long as I have, you get to know a few tricks." It must have just been the balmy LA fall air that was making him so uncomfortable. Thankfully Matt accepted the answer and the subject was dropped.
"Uncle Frank! Mom, Uncle Frank's here!" Matt led their visitor to the living room, the former hopping, the latter following with a grin.
"Hi, Kathy; Mark home yet?" Frank greeted Kathy with a hug.
"Not yet, he should be here soon, though. I'm glad you could come tonight."
"With Mabel visiting her sister, it is my pleasure!"
"Dinner'll be ready as soon as Mark gets here. If you'll excuse me, I need to go stir the gravy." Kathy disappeared into the kitchen and Matt and Frank took a seat on the couch.
"Uncle Frank?" Matt's face reminded the retired cop of the expression of intense concentration another young man had acquainted him with over the years.
"What's up, Matt?"
"If a car was locked and the keys were lost, could somebody get in it?"
"Sure, happens all the time."
"Is that how cars get stoled?"
"Stolen? That's one way."
Matt wasn't finished. "And if the keys were gone, they could make it go, so they could drive it away, right?"
Frank was starting to get uncomfortable with the drift of this conversation. He knew Mark didn't hide his past, and that Matt knew his father had done time, but if he were to make a bet, he would lay pretty good odds that what Matt didn't know was why his father had been in prison, and if he were to bet further, he would say Matt was nosing around pretty close to the target. The best course of action would be to answer the question honestly and then move on as quickly as would be unobtrusively possible.
"You got it." He started to reach for the homework spread out on the coffee table, but Matt pressed on.
"And stealing cars is really bad, huh?"
"Well, it's not very high on the list of things good guys do." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Frank could have gagged himself, and at that moment, Mark walked in.
"Oh, hi, Frank! And how's my buddy?" They both stood to greet him, and Matt's welcome was only slightly more enthusiastic than Frank's.
"Something goin' on?" Mark squatted down to Matt's level to look him in the eye.
"No," Matt said glibly. "Uncle Frank was telling me 'bout cops and robbers."
Mark looked up warily. "I see." The event with the car, although a week ago, was still riding him. "Hey, can you go help Mom set the table? I need to ask Uncle Frank about some cops and robbers too."
Matt ran off happily and Mark turned to Frank with a questioning look. Frank threw his hands in the air. "All I can say is he's your kid, Mark. Gotta know everything. He was asking me about stealing cars…"
"…And hotwiring them. Yeah, I figured he'd start asking about that sooner or later. I'll explain why later. First, what can you tell me about Simon Drew?"
They talked about the latest case at the law office for the five minutes it took Kathy and Matt to set the table, then left it in the living room to introduce a lighter topic at the dinner table.
Mark and Matt drove out to Gulls Way after supper. At Matt's begging, they took the Coyote. The GMC needed a bit of engine work done, and Mark had happily volunteered his services, saying that he had put in enough hours with that truck in the past he didn't want to see it suffer under the judge's non-mechanical hands.
The three of them chatted in the garage for a while, then Hardcastle and Matt wandered off to tend to a few other chores.
Mark was deep in the engine when Matt came skipping back. "Grandpa said I could drive the 'Vette!" He sang.
"Lucky you! You know, I had to wait a lot longer than you to drive that car," Mark grinned, not looking up.
"I know. Grandpa told me. He said you drive too weckless." The 'Vette door opened and closed, and the leather seat creaked as Matt bounced contentedly.
Mark snorted, thinking of the many times the Judge had driven "wecklessly." "He would."
The 'Vette suddenly roared to life and Mark cracked his head on the hood of the GMC and cursed.
"Matt!"
The person in question was sitting behind the wheel of the black convertible, grinning ear to ear. "It worked!" He crowed.
Mark was not impressed. Marching over to the car, he reached in and jerked the wires under the dash apart. "Where the he—heck did you learn that?" Hardcastle heard the angry voice all the way to the gatehouse, and decided it was time he investigated.
Matt looked at his hands, his long eyelashes drooping.
"What were you doing?"
"I just wanted to see if I could do it." The answer was very soft and very contrite, and somewhere behind the fear and rage, McCormick hear another very small voice say very similar words. Turning around, he slumped against the side of the 'Vette.
"You showed me how the innition worked, and these pictures showed me the right wires." Open on the seat beside him was the 'Vette's owner's manual.
"Where'd you get that?"
"Grandpa found it in the basement," Matt said innocently.
Mark glowered in the general direction of the outdoors and muttered under his breath. "Get out of the car." He jerked opened the door, and Matt climbed out slowly. "Sit here, and don't move, and don't touch anything."
Matt recognized a time out when he saw one, and took a seat on the bumper of the Corvette. Mark glued him to the seat with a single glare and stormed out of the garage. Hardcastle watched him wheel around the corner of the house, and decided talking to McCormick Jr. would be a lot more productive at the moment.
"Matt?" That one word carried both a statement of disapproval and a request for an explanation. "I heard the car." He didn't need to say what else he'd heard. That was a given.
"I didn't mean to make him so mad," Matt sounded miserable.
"Hotwiring can be dangerous if you don't know what you're doin'," the judge explained, seating himself next to the boy.
Matt looked at him seriously. "It wasn't just that, was it?"
Hardcastle took a very deep breath, and looked straight ahead. "He was proud when you were born. Happy to be your dad. And he was scared. Scared he'd mess up. Scared he'd do somethin' wrong. All dads are."
"But my dad was scareder." It was a statement.
"There's a good chance of that. I remember when I first met him. He was scared then, too."
"Of you, Grandpa?" Matt sounded a little incredulous.
Hardcastle grinned. "Sure, I was tough and scary, like a big teddy bear." He poked Matt in the ribs and the boy giggled. "It didn't take long before he stopped being scared, after he came to live with me."
"And then Batman and Robin came along!"
"Batman and Robin. And sometimes Batman rescued Robin, and sometimes Robin rescued Batman. 'Cause they both made mistakes, but they learned from 'em, and they learned which mistakes not to make again."
"Like hotwiring the wrong car."
There were lots of replies the Judge could make to that statement, ranging all the way from 'that's one lesson it took a long time to learn' to 'like hotwiring the wrong car for the right reason,' but all of those looked like open doors to more questions, so he just settled with a nod.
"You two are a lot alike, Matt."
Matt agreed proudly. "Yup, that's what Mom says. She says I can talk my way out of anything!"
Hardcastle laughed. "No doubt there. But in other ways, too. And he just wants you to be the best you can be. To be better than him. That's what every dad wants."
"Uncle Frank says good guys don't hotwire cars." The pensive frown was back.
"That isn't always true. Your dad's a good guy. Don't ever forget that."
"He's Robin."
"Now you're cookin'."
Hardcastle found Mark squatted on the rocky outcropping by the beach, hurling rocks into the waves.
"It's in the wrist, kiddo." Hardcastle skipped his own rock and shoved his hands in the pockets of his blazer.
"He hotwired the car, Judge." Mark's voice was low and, yes, scared.
"Yep."
Mark's face when he looked up was as drawn as his voice. "Do you know how old I was when I learned to do that? When I first used that?"
"Statutes of limitations expired a long time ago on that one."
Mark barked a bitter laugh. "I wanted to keep him safe. Not let him have that temptation. What next, pickin' locks?"
"Said yourself, that's a skill that comes in handy sometimes."
"Not for him. Not ever for him." Mark's whisper was just louder than the wash of the surf. "It's not his legacy." The bitterness in his last statement was directed at a man several years deceased, many more years gone.
"He has the right to know. Maybe not right now, but he has the right to know."
Mark slammed the rock in his hand to the ground. "I know that!" He turned away from the Judge into the sea breeze, letting it soothe his heated temper as it teased through his curly hair.
"He's not you, McCormick. Oh, he looks like you, and dang it but he acts like you sometimes, but he's not you. And you aren't Sonny."
A silence followed those last soft words, broken only by the sea and the gulls fishing.
Mark sighed and let the tension out of his shoulders. "It's scary, Judge. I see things, I hear things, and it's scary. I shouldn't have yelled at him. He could'a gotten hurt."
"I think he understands. But you should probably talk to him."
Mark turned back and patted the judge on the shoulder. Together they took the path up to the estate and then parted ways at the top, Hardcastle headed for the house and Mark squared his shoulders and headed for the garage like he was walking toward a whole squad of police officers.
Matt looked up as his father rounded the corner and took a seat next to him. It was obvious the boy had not moved.
"I'm sorry I yelled." Mark said.
"Sorry I scared you."
Mark glanced down at him, wondering if he was referring to the shock that came from hearing the 'Vette's engine start, or something deeper.
"You know, I scared your grandpa in here once."
"You did?" Matt grinned.
The memory was not completely 'G-rated,' Mark figured, not really a clear cut Batman and Robin story. He didn't remember the DC characters breaking into police impounds to illegally search the trunk of cars belonging to suspects. No, it was more something an undercover Kemosabe and Tonto would do.
"He was gonna sneak out to go somewhere, and I knew it, so I decided I would just wait in here, in the dark." Mark grinned. It had given him a great deal of satisfaction to get the drop on the Judge that night, and to remind him who had the superior second-story skills. Such cocky pride. And that trill of successfully evading alarms and lifting something from right under the noses of the rightful owners was exactly what Mark did not need Matt discovering.
"Matt…" Father and son looked at each other for a long minute.
"It was cars, huh." Matt really was developing an uncanny knack of figuring things out.
"That was part of it. I was also really good at getting though locked doors." This definitely wasn't the best place for humor, but Mark couldn't help himself, like usual.
"Locked car doors too." Again, a statement, not a question. That too showed the level of understanding.
"Those too. Look, Matt, what I did was wrong. And if Grandpa hadn't given me a second chance, I don't know where I'd be." Didn't know, but had a real good idea.
"But he did, and you became Robin and he was Batman!"
Mark pulled Matt into a side hug. If only life could always be as simple as seen through a child's eyes. "I don't want you hotwiring cars, kiddo."
"What if Mom drops the keys in my backpack again?"
"Then I'll drive."