Road to Recovery- cheride
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only. The characters and concepts of Hardcastle & McCormick do not belong to me, but to their creators.
A/N: First, thanks to all of you who have been reading my other stories. And, a double-thanks to those who have submitted reviews or dropped me an email. We all know that writing can be a very solitary experience, and I appreciate knowing that the work is actually reaching others from time to time.
Second, this story is actually complete, though it may take a bit of time to get it all formatted and uploaded; just wanted to let you know.
Chapter 1
Milton Hardcastle jumped out of the ambulance and followed the paramedics as they went racing through the emergency room entrance. He was trying to stay out of their way, but he didn't want to be too far from their patient. He was a step behind them and fully intended to follow them into the trauma room, but he felt a firm grip on his arm and heard the voice that he would have preferred to ignore.
"Sir? Sir, you can't go in there. You need to stay out here."
Hardcastle wanted to argue with the nurse, wanted nothing more than to force his way into the small room that was filled with machinery, frantic medical workers, and a lanky, curly-haired kid who was lying much too still. But he knew that doing so would only distract the doctors from their work, and he couldn't allow that to happen. Not now. Not when he would give anything to ensure that they would be successful. He forced himself to turn away from the room.
"Is there anything I need to do?" he asked the nurse, mostly just to occupy his mind.
"There is some information we need to gather up at admitting," she replied gently, "if you feel up to it." She motioned down the hall away from the trauma room, trying to lead the judge to a less stressful environment. "You won't be far away, and they'll take good care of your son."
Hardcastle started to correct the assumption; "He's not..." but thought better of it. He was too distracted to really explain adequately, and it didn't matter anyway. He followed the nurse meekly to the admissions desk and began filling out the forms the attendant placed in front of him. He handed over his driver's license and insurance card. He reflected briefly that he was glad his agent had advised him to take out a business policy so that he could cover McCormick as an employee. Not that it would've mattered; he would pay any price necessary to get the kid back on his feet again. But experience told him it was always smoother with insurance. It was a crazy world when cash was not the preferred method of payment, but the vagaries of modern day economics were the least of his worries at the moment.
He was still signing forms when a familiar voice spoke from behind.
"Milt?"
Hardcastle turned to find Frank Harper standing behind him, his face lined with worry. He tried not to stare at the bloodstains on the detective's shirt, just as he had tried not to notice the similar discoloration on his own clothes. He shook his head slowly. "I don't know, Frank." He turned back to the seemingly endless stack of papers.
Harper didn't like the answer, and he certainly didn't like the horribly vacant expression in his friend's eyes. He looked around for someone to talk to. Spying a young man in scrubs, he walked over purposefully. "Is there someone in charge I could speak with for a moment?" he asked, flashing his gold shield.
"Um, yes, sir. I'll get Dr. Dovry. Wait just a moment, please."
The orderly returned just a moment later, leading a young woman wearing a white lab coat over her pastel colored scrubs. "I'm Doctor Elizabeth Dovry," she said, extending her hand. "I understand you wanted to speak with me?"
"Lieutenant Frank Harper, L.A.P.D," the detective answered, shaking the offered hand. "You're in charge this evening?"
"I'm the attending physician," she confirmed. "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"
"A young man was just brought in here a few minutes ago with multiple gunshot wounds, and...various other injuries. Mark McCormick is his name. I'd like to know how he's doing right now, and I'd like to be kept frequently apprised of his situation, if that wouldn't be too much trouble."
"Is he one of your officers?" Dovry inquired.
"Close enough," Harper replied. "He works with us; he's part of the family. And he was hurt in the line of duty."
She nodded her understanding. "Wait one moment, please, Lieutenant, and I'll see what I can find out."
Harper waited more or less patiently while Dovry disappeared down the hall and into the trauma room. There was a part of him that always felt a bit underhanded playing the 'line of duty' card, because if you asked him in a rational moment, he would say that trained medical professionals would always do their very best to save a life...regardless of whose life they were saving. But on the rare occasions—though they were never rare enough—when he had wounded officers to look after, the detective believed that the doctors and nurses might try just a little bit harder if they knew they were trying to save one of the good guys, and he was not above laying on that small amount of guilt if it had even the slightest chance of tipping the scales in his favor. And right now—as he looked back and saw one of his oldest and dearest friends numbly hand over one final piece of paper, then slowly shuffle to the indicated waiting area—he knew that he would do just about anything to make this night end well.
He tore his gaze away from Hardcastle as Dr. Dovry approached. "Well?"
"It doesn't look good," she replied honestly, though with deep compassion. "He's lost a lot of blood, and there's a lot of damage. But, they do almost have him stabilized enough for surgery, and they should be taking him up in just a few minutes.
"That is a positive sign, Lieutenant. The operating room is exactly where he needs to be if he has any chance of surviving."
Harper nodded his understanding. "My friend and I," he jerked his thumb to indicate the stocky, white-headed figure slumped into one of the waiting chairs, "will stay down here until they move him. Will there be someone from surgery who can keep us informed once we're up there?"
"I'll make sure of it," she promised. The doctor glanced toward the waiting area. "You know," she added, "there really isn't anything you can do for Mr. McCormick right now. You should try to help your friend; he doesn't seem to be handling this too well."
"No, he's not," Harper agreed. "Thanks for the information, Doctor. I appreciate what your staff is doing." He offered her a tired smile, then turned and crossed the distance to Hardcastle.
Harper seated himself in the chair next to the judge. "They're gonna take him up to surgery soon," he said.
"Thanks for checking," Hardcastle answered dully. After a moment, he continued in the same lifeless tone, "You know, in the ambulance, they said they didn't think he'd make it to the operating room." He paused again, feeling his emotions raging. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "He's in bad shape, Frank."
Harper twisted to look at his friend. "Yeah, he is," he admitted, "but they're doing everything they can. He's in good hands, Milt."
"He shouldn't have to be in anyone's hands. If I had- -"
"Stop it!" Harper interrupted forcefully. "Just don't even start. You didn't cause this, Milt. No matter what happens, this isn't your fault."
"Easy enough to say," the judge replied without anger. "But you aren't the one who should've been there to stop this, and you aren't the one who sent him after that lunatic to begin with."
"Mark knew what he was getting himself into when he went after Garza. Hell, he knew what he was getting into when he signed up with you. He wouldn't blame you."
Hardcastle shook his head sadly. "This was never about Mark getting in to anything; it was about what he was getting out of. God, Frank, how many times have I reminded him that I could have him locked up with a snap of my fingers? He might bitch about going after someone, but he's not gonna refuse. That's always my ace in the hole, you know; he never wants to go back to prison. He'd rather die--" The judge broke off abruptly, horrified by the words coming from his mouth.
Harper placed a comforting hand on Hardcastle's arm. "It's been a while since this was just about staying out of prison, Milt, and you know it. It means more to him than that. You mean more to him than that. He wouldn't want- - -" Harper broke off as Hardcastle rose quickly to his feet. He held out a restraining hand as he noticed that the judge was half a heartbeat from charging down the hallway after the gurney that had reappeared and was now heading toward the elevator. The detective was relieved to see Dr. Dovry coming toward the waiting area and she was suddenly standing in precisely the place necessary to prevent Hardcastle from easily following the stretcher.
"Lieutenant," the doctor began, "I wanted to come speak with you both briefly." She looked at Hardcastle. "I'm Doctor Elizabeth Dovry," she introduced. "Lieutenant Harper asked to be kept apprised of Mr. McCormick's condition."
"And do you have any news?" Hardcastle asked, too numb to even think about introducing himself to the doctor.
"As you saw," Dovry continued, "Mr. McCormick is being moved to surgery, which is the best outcome we could've hoped for down here. The surgery ward is up on the third floor, and there's a family room just to the left as you exit the elevators.
"I've spoken with the attendant on duty up there, and she's going to make sure you get regular updates on the progress. However, he's going to be in surgery a long time, gentleman, and I would suggest you go home and at least clean up a little bit; it would be best if you actually got some sleep. It's late, and you both look like you could use a little rest. Mr. McCormick is in good hands. You did your job getting him here, now let us do ours. You can't help him right now."
"Is he going to live?" Hardcastle asked, completely ignoring the advice.
The doctor met his eyes. "I don't know," she admitted. "He's badly hurt. But we've got an excellent group of surgeons waiting for him; his odds of survival went up drastically just by getting him to them. Beyond that, I really couldn't speculate, and you shouldn't try to, either. Go home, get some rest, and there should be more news by the time you get back."
But Hardcastle knew that the news could be of McCormick's death, and if that horrible event should come to pass, he did not intend to be lying in bed pretending to sleep when the news came. He owed it to the kid to be here until the end.
"Thank you for the update, Dr. Dovry," Hardcastle replied. "I'll be up in the family room if anyone needs me." He turned to Harper. "Frank, you should go. It's late, and you still have a job to do tomorrow. Besides, Claudia will be worried."
Harper smiled gently. "I've already talked to Claudia and she sends you her love. She knows the drill, Milt, and she knows I'll be home when I can. As for the job, no one's going to mind if I spend some time here instead of there; I did put in quite a bit of overtime tonight, you know. Besides, my men are working on rounding up the last of Garza's gang, so the only thing I have to do is some paperwork, and I can do that here as easily as at my office." He clapped his friend on the arm. "You're stuck with me for a while, Milt, so you might as well get used to it."
Hardcastle managed a weak smile. "Thanks, Frank."
Harper waved it off, and spoke sincerely. "Now, I want you to let me drive you home for a while." He held up his hand to stop the immediate objection. "Not to stay, Milt, just to get cleaned up. A shower and fresh clothes will do you a world of good. Besides, you heard the doctor; Mark's going to be in surgery a long time. You can take some time for yourself."
The judge shook his head firmly, and started for the elevator. "I'm not leaving, Frank, not until I know he's okay or...not until I know." He repeated his earlier instruction. "But you should go."
Harper followed his friend immediately; he hadn't expected Hardcastle to agree to leave, but he'd had to try. "Let's get situated upstairs then I'll go round us up some coffee. It's probably going to be a long night."