Why did you say that?

by happydemonhobo

Mark and Millie have a talk...an add on to the end of "If You Could See What I See"

Disclaimer: I do not own Hardcastle & McCormick, the characters belong to their creators and such.

Author's Note: This is the third part, following "Cody", and "It's in case I should…", though I don't think you need to read those first.

Summary: Mark and Millie have a talk… (An add on to the end of the episode…'If You Could See What I See')

Rated: K

Why did you say that?

Mark McCormick really hadn't wanted that last cookie, but seeing retired Judge Milton C. Hardcastle reaching for it, he just had to smack his hand away and say smugly. "Is it time for my nap yet?" If only to remind himself that he was alive and that things were back to normal, well, almost normal.

Their last case had been a dozy, involving two deaths, for which a lawyer and his secretary were both labeled the murders. Add into the mix a newly hired maid named Millie Denton, who claimed she can predict events, which included Mark's life being in danger. Total in the end…bad guys caught, but only after Mark had been shot in the gut, thrown down an embankment, which added even more injuries, and left to die.

Now that he was finally home from the hospital, relaxing out on the patio, Mark thought it was all over, but nope, it wasn't, there was yet another round of events. First event, Millie was already leaving, he didn't even hear where to, wait what was that…tomorrow…leaving to live with a sister, but…she can't go…Hardcastle is vicious.

Second, there was the joking about how the Judge had fretted over him while he was in surgery, like an expected father. Sitting by his hospital bed for hours on end, which Mark did remember waking up a few times to see Hardcastle leaning over him, saying something. Which was probably a list of all the chores he'd needed to do, or telling him the waste of money to hire someone.

Though now he was finding it amusing how hard ol' Hardcase was trying to get Millie to be quiet, by asking her to go see if there were any more cookies, but then, the third one came out of nowhere when her face came right next to his, whispering…

'He loves you…'

'Wait, what?'

'HE loves you…'

'he LOVES you…'

'he loves YOU…'

'Helovesyou…hhheelllooovesyouuuuu', began repeating over and over in his still previously confused head.

'Had she really said that…that he…the Judge…no, no way…he must have miss heard her…yeah, that's it…there is nooo wayyyy', he must already be taking his nap. The more he kept trying to tell himself he'd miss heard, the more her words, like a mantra, continued their chant in his mind.

It had taken everything he had to not bark out a laugh, though a nervous one still managed to come out of his lips, which he then smashed together, making it more of an amused giggle, allowing his mind to think quickly of a comeback when Hardcastle asked, "What did she say?"

"Read my mind", he got out with amused sarcasm.

Hardcastle continued to grumble, going back to his paper. Millie finally did leave, off to do some last minute chores no doubt, having mentioned earlier to Hardcastle that she was making sure he and Mark had prepared meals that only needed to be put in the oven, or reheated on the cooktop, clean clothes, bedding and most of all, a clean house. The Judge really didn't want her to leave either, not with McCormick still laid up, but she had assured him Mark was on his way to recovering. Hardcastle had accepted it, knowing that McCormick was healing and that she was still feeling guilty, no matter how many times he'd told her she wasn't at fault, for her own role in the case.

They both had been warned about Mark being shot and killed, thank goodness the latter hadn't come true, so why was Hardcastle beating himself up? Hardcastle flat out said he didn't believe in 'visions', but Mark did. So in the end, why had Mark decided to go to that party, two reasons really…one, to shut Hardcastle up, and two, he had been chosen to work for the Judge and that meant being his backup, his sidekick, his protector.

Thinking back, he'd had to do a lot of things during cases, including digging his own grave, jump through a plate glass window, almost being burned alive in a casket, thrown off a moving train, and being shot in his left shoulder so the Coyote could be stolen, so why was this any different? Why was this case hitting both him and the Judge so hard…because he was supposed to die in the end, plain and simple and neither one of them could get that part out of their heads. But Mark didn't blame anyone but himself, he should have been more aware of his surroundings.

Ah the sun, so warm, it felt good to feel warm again, better than that cold, wet, hard ground. Trees, where did they come from? Wait…don't block the sun, I want to stay warm. Cold, it's getting cold and dark… no…no, please no. Wet, he felt wetness against his back, from the hard earth under him. No, no, no he was not here shivering from the cold and yet numb, except for a burning in his side.

Move, you have to move and he thought he had, but maybe not. He didn't think Hardcastle would find him down here. He had to at least get up the embankment. If not the Judge finding him, someone's bound to come along.

Don't pass out, though he more than likely has, several times. Hardcastle will find me, he will…Millie will not be right about this…I absolutely will not let her win. Come on Hardcase, you won't let her win either, you old stubborn donkey.

Mark's eyes snapped open, he didn't think he'd said anything out loud, but he had taken in a short gasp of air. Having apparently dosed off, he realized Hardcastle was looking at him, saying, "Ok sleeping beauty, let's get you back inside before you melt", along with the sound of a scooting chair and paper rustling. If the Judge saw anything, he didn't say anything, for which Mark was grateful. Hardcastle has yet asked him the full details of what had happened in that pool house and it can stay that way a little longer as far as he was concerned.

Just as Mark was maneuvering his way around to get up, there was a shadow over him, Millie had returned. "Judge, Lieutenant Harper is on the phone", she informed them.

Hardcastle didn't need to be told twice, Frank had only been calling when it was important, really important. It hadn't taken the Lieutenant long to figure out, by the way Milt and Millie sounded on the phone, that the residents sleep schedules were off, especially Mark's, since when Milt answered on the first ring, he'd say it was okay, he was just sitting with McCormick until the kid fell asleep.

"Will you be okay for a moment kiddo, I should get this?" He asked McCormick.

"It's ok Judge", Mark replied back, "Go on, Millie can spot me", going ahead and getting into a sitting position on the side of the lounger, knocking the pillows off which had been propping his right foot up, "I just need my crutch", he added, reaching down with his one good arm to get it where it had somehow made its way under the chair.

Hardcastle watched for a moment as Mark fumbled for the crutch, all the while trying hard not put weight on his bad foot and clinching his sling right arm/shoulder to his stomach, to hold his left side where he had been shot. Though most of all, trying not to let them see him in pain. No matter how hard the kid tried to hide the grimaces, Hardcastle saw them and he had to bite back the urge to move and help. Since he'd been home, McCormick had insisted he needed no help. So instead, the Judge looked to Millie who nodded that she could handle it, though he couldn't resist looking back one last time before stepping in the house.

Millie also had to resist the urge to help, watching as Mark positioned the crutch with his left hand and take a deep breath before pushing himself up into a standing position, countering his weight between his left arm on the crutch and left leg.

Seeing her staring at him with concern, Mark put a big smile on his face, assuring her. "Don't worry Millie, it's not like I could out run you."

Hearing that, she came out of her stupor, though the concern was still in her eyes as she smiled back with a nod.

Taking that as a signal, Mark started the, well, what could he have called it, an awkward gait…a hobble? He was pretty sure a drunk could out walk him right now, remembering in the hospital when he was finally able to get out of bed and walk the halls, well, try to walk the halls, he'd heard the Judge say he looked like a one legged bunny using a toothpick.

So he'd stuck with hopping, and now was hopping his way off the patio to the path leading to the side of the house, Millie staying right behind him. Hardcastle had reminded Mark of the path when he begged to get outside after being cooped up in the hospital for weeks and then for several days in the house.

There were no steps, the ground just making a slight incline up to the double patio doors leading into the formal living room of the mansion called Gull's Way.

In all the time he'd been here at the Judge's home, he never really remembered much of the living room. Oh sure he's seen it in passing, for it was right off the dining room, but there had never been a reason to step foot in here, he was making up for the lost time now though, as he was living in it for the foreseeable future.

After being released from the hospital, Mark had assumed he'd be back in the guess house, though sleeping on the couch or a cot downstairs, but oh no, the Judge and Millie would hear nothing of it. So then he thought he'd be staying in the study on the couch, it wasn't an uncomfortable couch, but Hardcastle practically lived in there, so he didn't think he'd get much rest. All Hardcastle kept saying was 'I'm taking care of it'.

But before he could worry about that, he'd have to get home from the hospital. For which it had taken all day to get his release papers as all the doctors who had treated him wanted one last look. Then there were the follow up appointments and physical therapy to schedule. If that hadn't been long enough, the drive home made up for it, riding in the truck with Hardcastle had been nerve racking to say the least. First, Hardcastle drove at or just under the speed limit, getting everyone around them honking and yelling. Second, even with the slow driving, Mark couldn't help but wince here and there, making the Judge slow down even more. It finally came down to Hardcastle slowing down so much, he'd turned on the emergency flashers, to Mark's persistent protests.

Mark was just about ready to give up on ever getting home that evening, when at dusk they finally pulled into Gull's Way, with Hardcastle practically parking the truck on the front stoop. Getting out and up to the front door took even more time as he'd made several cumbersome moves, which were accompanied by mumbled curses, from both, but mostly from Ol 'Hardcase, who realized he should have maybe covered the stairs with a board or something. But then there was Mark, smacking Hardcastle's hands away, telling him to move, stop it, he could do it. What felt like an eternity later, they'd found themselves standing in the front foyer, being greeted by Millie from the foot of the stairs leading to the second floor, with a happy, "Welcome home Mark", before stepping around to the back of him.

Mark was so tired, he started subconsciously heading towards the study, only to be stopped by Hardcastle saying, "You trying to break your good leg?"

"Then where..?" Mark mumbling asked, his drooping eyes looking nervously up the stairs where he had assumed Millie had come down from just as they came in. Surely they didn't expect him to go up to one of the spare bedrooms, he'd rather deal with the stairs at the guesthouse.

"Follow me and try not to fall." Hardcastle said, walking on down the hall to the back of the house though was mumbling something he really couldn't hear, only parts like, 'What was…seriously upstairs…and…it's MY study…idiot...'

Looking behind him, Mark assumed Millie was going to follow, a backup in case he did meet the floor, only to notice she had actually stepped quietly outside and was unloading the truck of hospital bags.

Sighing, Mark repositioned himself to hop after the Judge. Making his way down the hall coming to a stop at a doorway, the one leading into the living room. He remembered there being a step or two, not as many as the study, but when he looked they were gone, here a board had been placed over them at enough of an angle he could hop down it, the Judge had at least remembered here. But that wasn't the only surprise that stopped him.

"Well?' Hardcastle posed, seeming very pleased with himself.

Mark would admit he had been a little…shocked…no, that wasn't the right word, he'd been shocked when he'd been shot so...dumbfounded...at the site of the living room, no um, just a room, a hospital room, no, a combination of the two. The couch was apparently a sleeper couch and the bed had been pulled out, though instead of the usual thin mattress you would expect, Hardcastle had replaced it with a full one, apparently from upstairs. On top of it were pillows of every size, shape and thickness, along with blankets/sheets of all kind. Beside the bed were a couple of TV trays, making a makeshift nightstand and a floor lamp with an extended pull cord. The other side of the bed had a card table holding his boom box, with all his cassettes stacked next to it and on the other side all kinds of books and magazines. Over in one corner was the rolling cart from the study, with the TV and VCR player, complete with a stack of tapes. Hardcastle's favorite recliner from the study was there as well. He didn't seem to have left anything out, as at the foot of the bed was a hospital style tray on wheels so it could be moved over someone while in bed. Mark recognized it as the one Hardcastle had from his time stuck in bed after his own stint in the hospital, haven also been shot, though in the chest. Here it was stacked with board games, and like a cherry on top, was a deck of cards.

"Well", Hardcastle said again, beaming with pride and rocking on his heels. "What you think huh, not too bad if I do say so myself."

Before Mark could say anything, he heard movement behind him and realized Millie had been waiting patiently to get into the room. Managing to take it all in, Mark hopped down into the room, allowing Millie to go over to a side table in another corner of the room. The surface had been cleared of whatever had been on it originally, just a lamp and a stack of bath towels remained, but Millie was adding to it with the items from the hospital bags.

"The doctors all said that you should avoid stairs when possible and that's fine with me. I'm not young anymore so I refuse to run up and down the stairs like you did when you took care of me after I was shot. There's no sense in you being over in the guest house, because for one, I'm not going to and neither will Millie, go over every hour to make sure you took your meds, but most of all to make sure you hadn't fallen and broke your neck. Here I covered the steps so you can get to the half bath…" Hardcastle finally stopped his rambling montage when he saw the surprised look on Mark's face, but also seeing how tired he was.

"Okay kid, you can thank me later, let's get you to bed."

And here he was a few days later, still surprised Hardcastle had did all of this for him. It hadn't taken long to establish a routine. Making it to the one side of the bed, he'd sit, let the crutch be taken and would start the process of getting comfortable. Which included getting the arm sling off, positioning pillows and blankets he'd chosen in the proper places. Settling in, Millie, this time, would have a glass of water and his meds, for which he hated taking the pain meds during the daytime, he would rather enjoy his days now that he was home, but he did need rest. It hadn't matter in the hospital, he was happy to sleep those days away. While he set about taking what seemed like a whole drug store worth of pills, Millie would walk around closing curtains and turning off lights.

Hardcastle appeared in the doorway, "I'm going to make a run into town…I can pick some things up if you have a list."

Mark shook his head, but Millie began making her way towards the Judge, "I have a list, it's in the kitchen."

Hardcastle let Millie pass him and looked over to McCormick, "Get some rest kiddo."

{}{}{}{}

He was being held, he couldn't get them off…pain, burning hot pain followed by a cold surface…darkness…wet, cold, he never wanted to be cold ever again. Help me…Judge, find me…please, cold, so cold.

This time Mark bolted straight up in bed, the blanket covering him sliding off to the floor. Running a hand through his sweat soaked hair, he took big gulps of air and groaned, 'This is getting old'. Enough of this, he was home, he was safe, he was getting better.

Seeing the blanket on the floor, he subconsciously leaned over to get, "Damn it…son of a bit**…" he hissed, as the stitches and shoulder protested at the move.

"Did you get any rest?" he heard, making his head jerk over to the doorway with the look of a deer got in the headlights.

"Yeah" he tried to say as normal as possible, leaving the blanket.

Millie continued into the room, nonchalantly picking up the blanket before turning on a few lamps as she went to the side table and began gathering supplies.

"Um, how long?" He asked, not for how long he was asleep, but how long she had been standing there.

She checked her watch, "About two hours."

So she was either covering or really hadn't seen him wake up startled, or curse. He was always careful of his cursing, it was just something his mother had drilled into him, along with good manners, since he was a child.

Sighing he began to get out of bed, Millie had unfolded a chair and placed towels around it, before stepping out to fill a hospital basin with warm water. He hated sponge baths, even in the hospital, but he has no other choice at this time. The only shower in the main house was upstairs and he wasn't allowed to climb them just yet. He had asked to go to the gatehouse, where the shower was on the first floor, but he had been denied that as well. The main reasons being he couldn't stand long enough and he wasn't supposed to get his stiches wet. At least he was allowed to go to the half-bathroom by himself.

Trying not to show that anything was wrong, Mark did the one legged bunny hop, staying close to the bed just in case, over to the chair as Millie came back in, placing the basin on the floor.

"I know it's frustrating, but it will get better." Millie said softly as she dropped a couple of washcloths into the basin.

'So she had heard.'

"Sorry about that", he said.

"I've heard far worse", she countered.

"Still, my mon taught me better", he told her as he eyed the soap in her hand.

Seeing how he was eyeing the soap and knowing the man didn't care for the situation he was in, she asked, "And just how did she do that?" Hoping it would distract him.

Dropping his head while the washcloth was running over him, he told her the story of when he was eight and how some older boys had 'taught' him some new words. About how he was so proud and couldn't wait to get home to tell his mom. That there had been cookies and he thought he would get two for making his mom proud of him. Only to have a bar of soap pushed into his mouth and made to sit in the corner. (The full story is in CODY)

"That was a bit harsh", Mille replied, "Even for that time. Now spanking, which those boys deserved, if not from their parents then the school paddle." Mark's shorts had been removed, though still wearing underwear, and she was running a cloth along his legs. She would step out of the room, but would be near, when Mark was ready to wash his private parts.

"Oh, they got their fair share of the school's paddle and she apologized, saying she would tell me when I was older."

"And did she?" She asked, finishing the bath and moving on to putting dry shampoo in his curly hair.

"Yeah, she did, when I was twelve…it was just a few months before she di…past." He ended softly.

"I see", Mille said, stopping for a moment to take it all in and grab a comb.

She wasn't going to ask him to continue, being mostly done anyways. Handing him a wet cloth, he accepted it and began to squirm out of his underwear one handed. She quickly grabbed a fresh pair and another pair of shorts, before grabbing the wash basin and stepping out. Mark seemed to be lost in thought and hadn't even realized she was still in the room, but she still left out of respect for his privacy.

When she stepped back in, he was dressed and sitting in the recliner, still seeming lost in thought. While he sat, he usually turned on the TV, but this time hadn't, she quickly striped the bed and put fresh linens on.

"Mark?" Millie asked.

"Hum", was the replay.

"Come on over and let's get those bandages changed, ok."

"Oh…yeah, sure." He replied, getting up and hopping back over to the bed, it was easier if he was laying down.

When Mark was comfortable, Millie went about pulling the medical tape off his side, made a little easier by getting damp from the sponge bath. As she dabbed the area with cotton balls soaked with peroxide, he stared at the ceiling.

"You asked if she'd told me the reason why", he started.

She just nodded and continued with the cleaning, letting him talk.

"My mom told me when she was about my age, maybe even nine, around the same age as my…incident… her mother, my grandmother, took her and her older brother, who had just turned thirteen and was becoming a handful, over to her mother's sister…my." Here he paused as if thinking of the right word.

After a moment, when he didn't continue, she quietly said, "She would be your Grand-aunt."

"Oh, ok", he said nodding, though still staring up at the ceiling. "I'll just tell you the way she told me."

{} {} {} {}

"Mark, come here", Donna, Mark's mother said, patting the bed beside her.

"Did you need something?" Mark asked, now twelve. Lately his mother had been staying in bed longer and longer.

"I want to talk", she told him with a smile.

"Oh mom, you've already talked to me about a lot of things, how much more could there be?" Mark sighed, but still went over and took a seat next to her.

Donna didn't know how much longer she had left, she was doing her best to keep her son from worrying. He was still so young to be on his own and she really didn't want him to go into an orphanage, he would be too old there to be adopted, but what choice did she have. It would be 'a cold day below', before she let her older brother raise her son.

"You remember when you were eight and you came home from school with those 'new' words you'd learned from those older boys?" She asked, letting him lean against the headboard next to her.

"Why did you have to remind me about that mom, I haven't said those words ever again, you told me they were bad and besides, I don't EVER want soap in my mouth again," Mark's face scrunched up and he shivered, sticking out his tongue with a 'yuck'. "But did I tell you those boys got caught smoking and the principal gave them each a five paddle spanking and called their parents."

"Yes you did, but remember I also told you I would tell you why when you were older." She said, wrapping her arm around him and pulling him into her chest. She knew he would squirm and say he was too old now to be held like a baby, but this time he snuggled right in, like a child waiting for their bedtime story.

"Now don't fall asleep on me", she teased, tickling him on his side, getting him to squirm and say, "Stop, I won't, promise."

"I need to go back a few years, just to lay the backstory. When I was about six, or seven maybe, I didn't understand a lot of things going on in my family. For example, why my father was always gone."

"Kind of like my dad huh." Mark interrupted.

With a soft smile, she squeezed him and said, "Kind of like that."

"My mother always told me and my brother, your uncle Donald, that he was out working that he had to travel to look for jobs to make money for the family. Now my brother was older and he would tell me, when mom wasn't around, that dad had left us. I didn't want to believe him and always cried and said he was lying. He would tell me if dad was away working to make money for the family, then why did mom never have any money? Why did mom always beg money from her family? Why didn't dad come home for our birthdays and Christmas?"

'Just like my dad', Mark thought.

"By the time I was nine or so, I started understanding what he was saying. One day my mother needed to go somewhere and didn't know how long she was going to be, and we couldn't go with her. My brother had just turned thirteen and was pretty big for his age. He started leaving the house at night, talk back to mother, skip school and be really mean to me, so she knew she needed to leave us with someone, or at least me, if he walked out. She ended up begging her older sister, my aunt Rosie. Now Rosie never approved of my mother's choice in men or life. She never married or had kids, which was sort of rare at the time, but anyways, Rosie reluctantly agreed 'for the day only'."

Donna took a moment to get the glass of water next to the bed. After a few sips however, she started coughing. Mark tried to get up, but she finally stopped and continued to hold him to her.

"Sorry about that", she always said afterwards and Mark never understood why she felt the need to apologize.

Getting situated again, she continued, "Now where was I? Oh…now mom managed to get Donald in the car, don't know how, but I knew she regretted it. As soon as she told us where we were going, he started cursing and keep kicking the back of her seat, it was a wonder we didn't wreck. Donald just kept yelling, things like 'dad's never coming back home so now I'm the the man of the house, I don't need no…you can fill in the blanks, babysitter, and on and on. Mom didn't know how to discipline him anymore, I only learned later that mom was very docile towards men and like I said, he was a big boy. Now she had spanked both of us when we got into trouble, him more than me, but when he got bigger, she backed off.

Mark wanted to ask what 'docile' meant, but didn't want to interrupt her, he really enjoyed her stories.

"As soon as we were dropped off and my mom was gone, he started right in again. Repeating the same things, this time actually kicking the doors and even punched a hole in the wall. Well, aunt Rosie was not going to have any of that in 'her house' so she grabbed him by the ear, pinching hard enough that Donald was actually getting tears in his eyes. I could only watch as she dragged him towards the kitchen, grabbing a chair with her other hand and plucking his butt right into it when they hit the corner. Oh, that was a sight", she reminisced with a chuckle. "But she wasn't done, before Donald even had time to get over what just happened, Aunt Rosie had grabbed a bar of soap and shoved it in his mouth. Then she read him the riot act."

"Wow, Aunt Rosie must have been a big girl to do that to him", Mark said, eyes big as he tried to picture it.

"I know she meant well, but in the end your Uncle Donald just got meaner. Oh he gave Aunt Rosie respect when he was around her, it was the rest of us who continued to suffer. I know it was mean when I did that to you, but it was the only thing that came to mind when you were telling me those words. I just got his picture in my head and the memories came rushing in."

"I'm sorry", Mark told her, hugging her tight. "I won't ever become like Uncle Donald, promise."

"I know you won't", she said, hugging back.

{} {} {} {}

"It was just a few months later she past", Mark said, still lying flat on his back, just staring at the ceiling. "And I learned quickly about what she meant about Uncle Donald, he'd also found a docile wife, and moved up to an abusive, both mental and physical, drunkard. I was…I um, lived with him till I graduated high school and also by then learned that mom had originally planned for me to go to an orphanage and hopefully a foster home. But the social worker knew about my uncle, said it was always best if you could live with a relative…ha-ha if she only knew. I tried to tell her, but she didn't believe me. At first, my uncle flat out refused to take me and boy was I happy, but when the woman told him he would be getting money from the state to help, he jumped at the offer. Needless to say, I never saw any of it. Eighteen and I was out of there." He surprised her, by laughing, "Don't even know if the S.O.B.'s still alive." Then continued somberly, "I took care of myself after that, oh there was the occasional girlfriend, roommate and then I got really lucky when I met Flip, but he got mur…he also past and, well…" He seemed to fade off, knowing she sort of knew the rest, into his own thoughts again, but then added like it was an afterthought. "I found my real father not too long ago, but believe me that is a whole other story."

Looking at her watch, Millie wonder out loud, "I wonder what's keeping the Judge", then got up, "I'll just get you your dinner." She didn't know what to say and it seemed Mark didn't expect anything being said.

Mark shuffled his way to leaning against the back of the couch. He usually tried to sit on the side of the bed, but with everything he just spilled and Hardcastle not back, plus it was getting later in the evening, he didn't feel up to it.

Millie didn't say a word as she came back carrying a tray with a bowl of soup and some sides, like crackers, bread and a drink. Placing it on the rolling cart, she maneuvered it over to him.

"Thanks", he mumbled.

She took her seat again and waited. Sometimes Mark would go to take a bite, only to turn around and get nauseated, though that was happening less and less.

He took a bite, but then just sat there swirling the spoon around in the bowl.

"Is it alright?" She asked, "I can get you something else."

"Why did you say that?"

Millie actually straightened up in her chair, "Say what?" she asked back.

"That…that he, that Hardcastle, um…you know…" Mark blushed.

"Oh", she said, now understanding, "Isn't it obvious?" She stated. "You two might still be dancing around the bush, but to me, and I'm sure to others, it's plain as day."

"But…" Mark sighed, placing the spoon down and looking over at her.

Millie just cocked her head to the side, waiting.

Mark looked back up at the ceiling, taking in a big breath, his hand going to his side, as he let it out before flat out saying, "He said I was not a replacement for his son."

"And you're not", Millie answered right back.

His head snapped back over to look at her. "Then how..?"

Millie smiled softly, settling back into the chair, "There is all types of love", she started. "Did you ever think he would come to see you as a nephew, a foster son, or an adopted one?"

Mark went back to playing with the spoon, "No, he hired me, he wanted someone to help with his cases and to be his gardener. It's more like an employer, employee deal."

"Let me ask you something", Millie started, "How long have you been employed by the Judge?"

Mark looked up like he was calculating and answered, "Hum, about three years."

Millie continued, "So you've done quite a few 'cases' with him then?"

Mark chuckled, "Yeah, you could say that."

"So you could also say that you two have been in quite a few close calls and tight situations, like this last one?"

Mark's head was nodding as she spoke, "I told you about being thrown off the train and yep, there were quite a few other close calls, for both of us." Immediately thinking of when Hardcastle was shot in the chest.

"Why in those three years have you've just not said "No", "I'm done", even this time after I warned you, you tried to convince Milt, yet in the end you went. Still willing to help. I don't know of many, if any, employees doing that for their employer, so it has to be more than that", she pointed out.

His head shook as he pondered.

"So in what way would you described it?" She continued.

"I don't…"

Millie leaned over to look at him better when she asked, "Do you care for him, as say a teacher, a mentor, an uncle or maybe even a father figure?"

"I guess you could say like a mentor", Mark answered.

Millie nodded her head at the answer, "I've only been here a short time, but I can see the closeness you two share."

When Mark just looked at her, she continued, "You two are always bickering and he calls you by McCormick, kid, kiddo and such. You call him Hardcastle, Judge, Hardcase…I think I even heard donkey", she smiled.

"And a stubborn one at that", Mark commented.

"And yet you would step in front of him to keep him from getting hurt?" she pointed out.

Mark shook his head, again, as if he couldn't believe he was even being asked such a question, "Of course", he said out loud.

"So why don't you think he would do the same thing for you if he had the chance?" She continued, "Mark, Milt was really worried when he couldn't find you, even after I had told him he was too late. He would not listen and said you were missing, that's all. He didn't say it, but he was begging me to help find you. I'll admit I was so relieved when he found you, that I…I was wrong." She paused when her voice cracked.

"It's okay Millie, I don't blame you or the Judge. It was my own fault for not seeing the signs", Mark told her and his head nodded when he said, "I was chosen to protect him."

Millie nodded, "But isn't he responsible for you as well?"

Mark laughed, "He always tell me there'd be too much paperwork if I died."

"And here you laugh, neither one of you gets truly mad, laughing off anything that should be taken seriously, sure you two may act all offended, but you both blow it off. Do you realize since I've been here I've never heard you call him Milt, just those nicknames?"

Mark cocked his head in thought, "I don't know, I may have once…it just doesn't sound right, I guess."

"I've never heard him call you Mark either?"

"Yeah I'm sure he has, at least a handful of times." (This is in reference to the time I had Hardcastle say his name in "It's in case I should…")

When Millie raised an eyebrow, he said "I know for sure of one time."

They were interrupted by Hardcastle coming in, "Oh hey, you're still awake, good."

Millie patted Mark's leg saying, "Think about it." Then got up to give Hardcastle the seat, telling him, "I'll get you some dinner."

"You need to eat, kiddo", The Judge commented, looking at the food on the tray. "The doctor said you need to gain some weight back, you feeling nauseated again?"

Hardcastle leaned in to put the back of his hand on Mark's forehead, he had been running a low grade fever off and on, and was told that was normal as his body healed.

Smacking the hand away, Mark answered, "I'm fine, see…" taking a bite of bread.

"You eat up while I talk", Hardcastle told him. Mark nodded and preceded to eat the bread as he was told what had happened with Frank.

Settling into the chair, the Judge began. "Price and Falcon are going to take plea deals. They're only doing it so they can avoid the death penalty. You can still make an impacted statement at the sentencing if you want."

Mark's head lightly bobbed as he talked, "I guess I should."

"I'm taking Millie to the airport tomorrow, so Frank said he would come over and wrap up your paperwork."

To Mark, it was 'Frank is coming over to babysit you while I'm gone.'

Millie came in carrying another tray, placing in on the TV tray before moving it in front of Hardcastle. She then took Mark's bowl and replaced it with another one. The soup having gotten cold. "Looks good Millie, thank you", Hardcastle praised.

The two finished in silence and by then the sun had settle, basking the room in angular shadows from the lamps.

After Millie took the dishes away and said goodnight, Hardcastle set about turning off all the lights except for the one next to the bed, which Mark could reach. "I almost forgot", Hardcastle said, "The doctor called and said it would probably be a good idea for a home nurse to come in once a day, just to help you with…", he gestured to Mark's body.

'Well what a coincidence', Mark thought, reaching over to get his meds, but Hardcastle beat him to it.

Tapping out the pills, the Judge began to tell him, "Now don't you go getting complacent after Millie leaves, thinking I'm going to wait on you hand and foot. I have work to do and a lot of phone calls to make to find someone to do your jobs around here."

He then began to fiddle with the pillows and blankets, making sure Mark was settled in for the night.

"Stop it, I'm fine", Mark protested, smacking the hands away.

Hardcastle huffed and started to leave the room.

Finally getting what Millie was saying, Mark mumbled, "Love you too, Ol' Hardcase."

"What's that?" Hardcastle asked, stopping to look back.

"Oh nothing", Mark told him, though smiling.

Hardcastle grumbled, "Hn, maybe I should have had the doctor check your head more before you were released…you're mumbling to yourself."

Mark guffawed back, "Oh yeah, ever think maybe you're just losing your hearing?"

Hardcastle huffed again, like he was really going to get mad, only to then wave his hand dismissively, "Just get some rest kid."

Mark settled in leaving the light on, knowing Hardcastle would be back at some point to see if he was asleep and if not, to suggest a game of checkers or TV. The smile was still on his face as his eyes grew heavy.

The End (Hope you enjoyed)