Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. The characters of Hardcastle and McCormick are not mine and I make no profit from them.
Author's Note: This is my first work, i hope you enjoy it.
Thanks LML for your priceless help, suggestions and encouragement.
"McCormick, what the hell is wrong with ya?" Hardcastle growled. Mark had been playing with his food all through dinner, not eating much.
"Uh? Nothing, I'm not hungry, that's all." came the elusive answer.
"You're always hungry!" the judge tsked, but he didn't elaborate further.
Actually the kid had been acting strangely at least for two days, since they had had J.J. Beale arrested again, but despite all their efforts, neither he nor Sarah had been able to understand what the problem was.
The kid suddenly stood up. "Why are you always breathing down my neck? I'm not hungry, no big deal!"he snorted. Then he put the dish in the sink and headed for the door. "I'm gonna go for a drive" he said sharply, and left without waiting for an answer.
00000
He was sorry. Really, he hadn't meant to be rude to the judge, but the whole Beale matter had really unsettled him.
Truth was, though he wasn't going to admit it out loud, he was happy Hardcastle had blackmailed him in their foolish arrangement. The judge must've seen something in him, something good; he must've thought that he, McCormick, was worth something. It made him feel so confident, hopeful. Maybe, Mark had come to think, he was not helpless. Maybe he was still in time to turn his life right. Maybe he still had a future.
And then he'd found out about Beale.
Before picking him, Hardcastle had chosen J.J. , and it had come to no good. The judge had been wrong, that's that. Beale had stolen Hardcastle's Corvette the very night he had arrived at Gulls' Way, ran off and ended up going from bad to worse.
Now, Mark could understand why the judge didn't trust him: Hardcastle was probably just waiting for him to make the inevitable wrong move.
Well, after what had happened with Beale, McCormick couldn't really blame the judge; he himself was starting having doubts about his own future.
"What if I'm going to end up the same way Beale did? What if I'm just like him?" he couldn't help but think, while he desperately drove in the dark, as if he could run away from his own thoughts.
"I wonder what the hell is wrong with him!" Hardcastle was frustrated.
They had just heard McCormick come back, the noise of the engine of the Coyote roaring in the pathway, but the kid had gone straight to the Gatehouse, without showing up in the main house.
Sarah turned and watched Hardcastle closely.
"Did the two of you have a row? Or maybe it was something you said. I'm not saying you did it on purpose, but, you know, maybe he was hurt…" she gently suggested.
"We didn't have any row, and, no, I didn't tell him anything!" he snorted. "He just started to sulk out of the blue, and I wish I knew what's wrong!"
"Your Honor, have you tried to talk to him? Have you tried to ask him what the problem is?" she enquired.
"Of course I did! But I didn't get any response," the judge burst out, exasperated.
"I hope you didn't ask him in that tone," she scolded the judge as if she was talking with a little disobedient boy. "Maybe I could try and talk to him?" she added, in a gentler tone.
"Thank you, Sarah, I'd really appreciate that," he thanked her . He had tried everything with McCormick, without results, and now he sure as hell didn't have a clue what to do with the kid.
"Well, I guess it's time to go to bed. Good night, Sarah," he said, taking leave.
00000
Mark's sleep had been restless and full of nightmares; when he finally woke up he felt no less tired than he had been before going to bed.
He knew he hadn't been fair to the judge and Sarah, and this made him feel uncomfortable. While heading to the house for breakfast he thought he should apologize to the judge. He couldn't explain him the reason for his bad mood. He couldn't tell him how stupid he had been to believe he meant something to the judge.
"I don't want us to become buddies" . The jurist had been clear from the beginning. It wasn't the judge's fault if Mark had been foolish enough to think that maybe they were becoming something more than a parole officer and a parolee.
But nevertheless an apology was due.
But when he got in the kitchen he found only Sarah: the judge was not at Gulls Way.
"Hi Mark," Sarah welcomed him. "The judge went out early this morning and he won't come back till late afternoon, so maybe you could help me with some chores inside."
He nodded absent-mindedly.
"Mark, dear, what's wrong?" she asked him kindly. She added hurriedly as he tried to deny. "Mark, I know you're upset, and maybe it would help if you talked about it."
He looked at her with a strange, sad look in his eyes. "Thank you Sarah, but, really, it's nothing important. I'm sorry if I've had been… "
"Beale!" She vehemently cut him off, suddenly understanding the reason for Mark's behavior. "It was something happened while you and His Honor were working on Beale's case, isn't it?"
He hesitated then nodded uncomfortably, but still didn't say anything.
"Did Beale say something to you? Mark, you know, you shouldn't listen to him! He's insane, he doesn't understand."
"No, it's not that… he didn't say anything to me."
"Then what?" she inquired.
"Well, it's just…" he hesitated, not completely sure he could speak frankly about the matter.
"Mark, you know you can trust me" she encouraged him.
"Well, he was here, with you and the judge, I mean, before me..."
"Yes, he was," she answered, unsure about what Mark was leading up to. "But, Mark, you already knew there had been others before you. I told you myself the night you arrived. Beale was the last before you."
"Yes, but…I thought they had gone because, I dunno, because the deal hadn't worked, or their parole had ended or they had found another work, maybe they were tired of being shot at by the bad guys…I didn't know someone could have done what Beale did! Dammit, he stole the 'Vette!" he told her vehemently.
"Their… deals were different from yours, Mark. They helped in the house, or in the garden. His Honor hadn't retired yet, he didn't have time to chase criminals. And, yes, most of them did manage to end their paroles. Some escaped, and they were caught, of course. But Beale, he was one of a kind, he was insane," she explained him. "But, Mark, I don't understand what the problem is."
"Haven't you noticed, Sarah? Beale and I…well, we have a lot of things in common. We are thieves, we're cons and we're both really good at get on the judge's nerves." He said without looking at her.
"Nonsense!" Sarah exclaimed sharply. " He is a thief and a con. You are an ex-thief and an ex-con! That's not the same thing and you should know well!"
"You don't get it! " he said with a grimace. "I mean, Hardcase…oh, ok, Hardcastle," he quickly corrected himself at her stern look, "Hardcastle chose Beale! He...he was wrong."
Sarah looked at him, a puzzled expression on her face "Mark, all we all make mistakes," she objected.
He went on, frustrated, "He chose him and he was wrong…and then he chose me! Maybe, maybe he's wrong this time too!" he finally admitted, his voice low and intense, despair in his eyes.
"Oh, Mark!" She looked at him, surprise and compassion displaying in her kind face as understanding dawned. "That means nothing, nothing at all! You and Beale are not the same, not at all, believe me."
"It does mean something to me. Don't you understand? The judge picked him, and look at how it ended! Maybe it'll be the same with me. Maybe I'm just like him. Hardcastle was wrong with him, maybe he was wrong with me too!" he almost shouted, frantically trying to make her understand. "I haven't screwed it up, yet, but…I don't know, what if I do next week, or next month? How can you be so sure I'm not going to spoil everything again? Just like Beale did! I don't understand why Hardcase decided to go on with his projects, it's insane!" He shook his head, almost in disbelief and muttered as if talking to himself, "Really a donkey…look at what happened with that man, you'd think he would have stopped, but no, he goes on anyway…he's really something else."
"That's exactly the point, Mark" She told him in a low voice. " If he decided to take you anyway, well, he must have had a very good reason."
Mark frowned. "I was the last chance, that's all. He was gonna retire, I was his last case." he tried to explain, uncertainty filtering through his voice, as if he didn't even dare to hope there might be something else.
"Yes. Or maybe you were such a good choice he decided to try anyway."
He looked at her, pleasure and surprise on his face. He opened his mouth than closed it again, speechless.
"Come on Mark, I've some work to do. You could help me in the kitchen."
00000
The judge stood outside the front door, listening. He had arrived home sooner that he had expected, and was now curious to know if Sarah had managed where he had failed, finding out what McCormick's problem was.
He listened to the sounds coming from the inside: Sarah was laughing about something McCormick was telling her, probably a funny or weird episode from his past.
He shook his head, amused. The kid had really a way to get under the people's skin.
He was relieved, too, that things were back to normal. Clearly, whatever Mark's problem had been it was gone: the kid seemed pretty cheered-up; his bad mood had disappeared.
Yes, he was relieved. Although he still wasn't going to admit that out loud, or even to himself, he liked the kid and his smart mouth.
McCormick's bad mood had worried him: Hardcastle had almost come to think that, maybe, the kid was no longer happy with the arrangement, and he wanted to put an end to it but didn't know how to tell him.
But luckily it didn't seem to be the case.
He smiled to himself, and opened the door, the smell of cookies filling the air. "McCormick, Sarah, I'm back!"