Disclaimer: I do not own Hardcastle & McCormick, the characters belong to their creators and such.
Author's note: My first 'Hardcastle & McCormick' story.
Summary: CODY: Is just another one of those four letter words.
In the pilot episodes/movie, 'Rolling Thunder', at the end with the big (final) car chase, you can see the name 'CODY' on the back, passenger side, bumper/tail of the car. In the following episodes, it is no longer there. This is my take on where it went.
Rated: K
CODY (is just another one of those four letter words)
Four pieces of plastic, four little plastic letters making up a four letter word. A four letter word that had Mark McCormick sighing in remembrance as he held the last pieces of what reminded him of a life he'd only ever dreamed about, before it came screeching down like a meteor shower around him, destroying everything in its path.
Fingering the letters, he placed them in order on his open palm, spelling out the name Cody, the name of the man who had swept in and in a short period of time had flipped everything he'd had ever known on its head.
He hadn't even noticed the name on the Coyote car in the week he's had it, not having the time to really go over it, admire it, between stealing it, hiding it, hauling it to Las Vegas, hiding it again, and then driving it all the way back to California. Where it has sat in the driveway, not being able to drive until he received the registration.
Only when Barbara Johnson, Johnny 'Flip' Johnson's daughter, dropped by to say a final 'thank you' for helping her convict Martin Cody for the death of her father, along with one final 'good-bye' before heading to the airport, did Mark notice it. She had walked around the car, touching it, dealing with her own thoughts, demons, when her fingers brushed over the letters. Giving one last kiss on the cheek, she left, leaving him standing there, rage building, but he managed to control his anger until she was out the gate. If Judge Milton C. Hardcastle hadn't been standing there with him, to stop him, he'd have torn his fingernails off trying to pry them off.
The next day, having finished his chores, he'd gotten the evening off, well sort of, a few hours, and was now seating on the ground in the driveway, next to the car, holding the letters. Feeling miserable about himself.
Fingering the letters, he thought of Barbara. It should have been Johnson on the car. Or better yet, FLIP, Flip was a good four letter word.
'He deserved so much better', he thought, "I'm so sorry Flip, but we got 'em and I promise I'll take good care of the car", he muttered.
What was it with four letter words? He'd been raised knowing which four letter words were good or bad and he'd had to laugh now for fear of crying as he remembered how he'd learned that lesson.
Eight year old Mark McCormick bounded up the stairs to the apartment he shared with his mother. Having just finished his first week of third grade, he was excited to tell his mom what he'd learned today.
"Mom…mom." He yelled, bursting through the door and practically running the woman over.
"Whoa there bucko." Donna McCormick, his mother, jested stopping him at the door to help him with his coat and backpack.
"Mom." Mark said again, practically bouncing on his feet in excitement. He'd had to bite his tongue all day to keep from telling the other kids.
"Now wait just a minute, I have a surprise for you." Donna told him, taking the moment to hang the coat up and put the backpack on a nearby chair.
Forgetting what he wanted to tell her as soon as he heard the word 'surprise', he stood still, waiting like the good little boy he'd been taught to be.
Smiling at her boy, Donna said. "Mr. Miller down at the bakery had some leftover cookies and told me I could have them if I helped him clean up this evening after he closed for the day."
Mark's shoulders slumped, that meant his mom would be working until after dark tonight, he hated being alone in the dark, some surprise.
Seeing his sadness, Donna pulled him into a hug. "Now I suppose", she said, hugging tight and getting a whining croaked 'stop it' out of her son, "You can have one of those cookies now before dinner, since you seem to have had a good day at school."
Pushing away from his mother, Mark turned to run into the kitchen, but was stop by one word. "Shoes!"
Slipping off his shoes, Mark walked back over and placed them under the chair, then with one look from his mother, took off to the kitchen to see a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the table.
Taking a chair, Mark waited patiently until his mother placed a glass of milk and a paper towel in front of him before reaching for a cookie, choosing what he thought was the biggest one, though they were all about the same size.
When he was finished with the cookie, his mother ask. "So, did you have a good day today?" Having noted how happy her son seemed when he barged through the door, having even heard him bounding up the stairs.
Swallowing the last of the milk, Mark took the makeshift napkin and wiped his mouth before answering. "Yeah, guess what…guess what I learned…" He told her, getting excited again now that he'd had a cookie. Thinking it was a good day, coming home to cookies and thinking it would be even better when he told his mom what he had learned. She's going to be so proud, maybe he would get a second cookie before dinner.
"Slow down cowboy." Donna teased, laughing. "Let me guess…did you learn…hum…that the sky was blue?"
"No, I already knew that." Mark laughed, knowing he was being teased. "And the grass is green", he finished before she could say it.
"Well then tell me." She smiled, acting like she was getting comfortable and wanting to hear all about it.
"I met two new friends today", Mark exclaimed.
"Really now." Donna remarked, really surprised her son had met someone, much less two, her son had always seemed to be a loner.
"Yeah and they're fifth graders", Mark continued.
Before Donna could say anything, her son rambled on. "They told me some four letter words I would be learning this year. They said I couldn't tell anyone because they would get into trouble, something about cheating, but I asked them if I could tell my mom and they said 'yes, especially my mom'.
"Mark?" Donna warned, getting a bad feeling, but again, her son plowed on, seeming to be concentrating hard on what he'd been told.
"Let me think." He muttered, "Okay, I remember them…they are…."
Donna's eyes got bigger and bigger as she heard the words, the first one beginning with the letter 'd', the second word, 's', followed by the 'h' word and then the last one, the one he said was the most important, the 'f' bomb.
Mark didn't know what he'd done wrong, one minute he was smiling at his mother, all proud that he had remembered the words, especially in order like they had taught him, but the look on his mother's face didn't look happy. The next minute, he found himself pulled from his chair, standing with his nose in the corner and a bar of soap in his mouth.
Crying so hard, he began hiccupping, which made it even harder to breath, making him hiss in air around the bar in his mouth. Making it even harder, a running, snotty nose and salty tears, both combining onto the bar of soap in his mouth causing it to froth. Try to breath through your mouth while not swallowing that combination.
He was just about ready to spit the soap out, knowing he'd get into trouble, but really wanting to breathe, when he was turned around and it was taken out of his mouth. A washcloth was brushed over his face and he grabbed it, practically shoving it in his mouth to get the taste out.
After giving her son a moment to collect himself, Donna pulled Mark over to the couch, making him sit beside her. "I'm sorry Mark."
Still letting out a hiccup here and there, Mark asked, "Did I do som-hic-ing wrong…hic, mom?"
"No, no my precious boy." She soothed him, hugging him close. "It's just…well…I don't think those boys are your friends."
"But…"
"Listen to me." Donna said sternly, turning him to look at her. "Those words those boys told you are bad words. They are not to be said…ever…you understand me?"
"Okay mom." Mark whispered. "But what makes them bad word?" He wondered.
"Oh honey." His mother said, pulling him so he was laying across her chest. "They just are, you'll understand as you get older, but for now, just promise me you won't ever say those words…okay." Ending with a kiss on the top of his head.
"I promise." He whispered.
What's that old saying, 'sticks and stones my break my bones, but names will never hurt me'. He'd learned a lot more bad words throughout the years, longer, meaner words, especially from his uncle, his mother's brother, who'd he'd lived with after his mother had died when he was twelve. And words did hurt, maybe not physically, but your heart and soul sure did. As he grew older, he'd managed to keep his promise, for the most part, only saying an occasional 'damn'. He didn't think she would be too disappointed with him, he was an adult now.
Speaking of longer words, Mark barked out a laugh realizing all he needed was an 'N' a 'K' and an 'E', and he could put the name 'donkey' on the car. If he was going to play Robin to the Judge's Batman, then they would need a name for their crime fighting car. Though with the way the DMV was taking its sweet old time deciding if the car classified as 'street legal' and with his luck, he'd end up with a dream car he could only drive to the end of the driveway and back.
He was taken out of his musing by the backdoor slamming open. Looking up over the car, he saw Sarah, Hardcastle's maid, struggling to drag two full garbage bags down the steps.
"Wait Sarah, I'll get those." He told her, quickly getting up to help her.
"Thank you Mark." She clipped.
When she had first said that to him, in that clipped, stern voice, he thought she had already made up her mind to not like him, but was still trying to be polite, for sake of the Judge. After being here at Gull's Way, a little over a week now, he came to accept that it was just her way and he tried hard to please and see her as a grandmother figure, though he never had a grandmother to compare to.
"Take the trashcans down to the curb." She told him, watching him put the bags in one of the metal cans.
Before Mark could reply, Hardcastle's voice came booming through the door. "Has anyone gotten the mail?"
"I'll get it." Mark told Sarah, now dragging two big metal trashcans down the driveway. Wondering if he could get the cans in the car, then at least he'd get the chance to drive.
Parking the cans, Mark headed towards the mailbox, when he noticed his palm hurt. Looking at it, he saw he'd still had the letters in his hand. Gripped so tightly he had indentations of them on his palm.
"Damn." He muttered, going back over to a trashcan and yacking the lid off, throwing the four little plastic letters in the garbage. "Good riddance." Too bad it couldn't be that easy with the rest of his life. Though he was starting to like his life here at Gull's Way, chores and all, sure did beat a jail cell.
Retrieving the mail, he looped around to the front of the house, knowing 'ole Hardcase would be sitting at his desk in the study, just off the main foyer. Almost stopping to knock, but then remembering he didn't have to, he hollered, "Judge", letting the door slam behind him.
And just as he thought, Hardcastle voice bellowed from his right. "Damn it McCormick."
Mark pivoted and headed down the three steps into the room as the Judge continued. "Will-ya quick lettin' the door slam."
"Here you go." Mark told him, placing the mail on the desk, ignoring the comment, thinking if his mom were here would the Judge have gotten a bar of soap in his mouth. "Am I still going to the nursery?" He asked, slumping into one of two leather wing-backed chairs placed in front of the desk.
Hardcastle had started to sort through the stack of mail, ignoring him until he asked the question. "What?" He said, giving him the look of 'oh, you're still here'.
Mark huffed, reminding him while swinging a leg over the arm rest. "The mulch Judge, am I still going to the nursery for the mulch."
"Hum…oh…shoot, I forgot to call." Hardcastle said, looking at the clock on the wall. "It'll have to wait till morning, but I still have time to call them and have it ready though."
"Okay." Mark said, getting up. "I'll just clean up and call it a night."
"Yeah, okay." Hardcastle muttered with a wave of his hand, already back to sorting the mail. "If you want to come back over later…"
Mark looked at him, but the judge still didn't raise his head.
Hardcastle felt Mark's eyes on him and cleared his throat before finishing. "There's um, there's a John Wayne movie on at eight…I'll make popcorn."
Mark smiled, shaking his head and had just made it to the top of the stairs when the Judge called out, stopping him.
"Here, I believe this is for you." Still not looking up, but holding out a manila envelope.
"Me?" Mark questioned, coming back over to the desk. He'd not received any mail since he'd been here. No, that's not quite true, he'd received official letters from the parole office, but even though addressed to him it had 'C/O Milton C. Hardcastle', so he'd just let the judge open them.
"I don't see any other Mark McCormick here, do you?" The judge griped, still not looking up, but flapping the envelope for him to take it. "One of you is about all anyone can take." Was muttered under his breath.
Taking the package, Mark looked at it, noting the return address. "It's from the DMV." He said softly.
"Well go on…open it then." Hardcastle ordered finally looking up, already knowing who it was from.
"All right, all right, gees hold your horses there Kemosabe." Mark griped back, breaking the seal. It was thicker than he thought it would be. Sliding out a sheet of paper, he began reading, muttering to himself.
"Quit mumblin', what's it say?" Hardcastle asked, waving a hand in a 'just spit it out' motion.
"I don't believe it." Mark answered, eyes going wide as he kept reading.
"What?" Hardcastle huffed, sounding like he was getting impatient, but already knowing what the letter said, he'd been expecting it any day now.
"The car, the Coyote, they…they classified it as street legal." Mark managed to get out, still not believing his eyes.
"Well there you go, see…I told you they would come around." Hardcastle said, controlling a smile, it was amazing what strings one could pull, especially when that one had some favors owed to him by the DVM.
"Wait, what?" Mark questioned, eyes narrowing as he got to the end.
"Something wrong?" Hardcastle asked, wondering if he should have opened the envelope first, just to make sure everything was right, but there was nothing he could think of that could have went wrong.
"Um…it says my vanity plate is enclosed." Mark said, looking up, clearly confused. "I didn't…I can't afford…"
"A vanity plate huh." Hardcastle repeated, leaning back in his chair. "Wonder what it says?" Still maintaining his cluelessness, though relieved things were okay.
Mark, having already pulled out the plate, stared at it and, again, still not believing what he was seeing. There on a white background under the California state name was the letters spelling Coyote X.
"Judge I…" Mark went to say, he hadn't ask for this and no way could he afford it.
"Don't worry about it." Hardcastle waved off, "I told you I would take care of the car…as part of the deal."
"Yeah, but that was just the insurance and repairs." Mark said.
"And", Hardcastle continued, "Registration."
"But…"
"Which includes plates…but remember it's just until you…you know…get on your feet." Again, the judge waved it off as no big deal, going back to sorting the mail. "Besides…the car is for work and I can write it off as a business expense." He added softly.
Mark just let a big smile take over his face. "I'm going to go put it on right now."
Bounding up the stairs, he stopped and turned around. "Hey Judge." He called, now knowing the man had obviously pulled some strings somewhere and why it had taken so long.
"Huh." Hardcastle mumbled, not looking up.
"Thanks." Was all Mark said, but the Judge could clearly hear the sincerity.
Not wanting to get all mushy, he griped back. "Just get that mess cleaned up…and there better not be any stains on my driveway…and first thing in the morning you're going to get that mulch, and spread it."
Knowing the mushy stuff was over, Mark headed back out. "Okay."
Hardcastle reached for the phone. "And don't…."
SLAM
"…the door", Hardcastle finished with a shake of his head, punching numbers. "You're welcome kiddo." He muttered, finally letting a soft smile play on his lips.
The End. Hope you enjoyed…