A/N: Thanks to everyone who's been reading this story; it is appreciated. I should have it completely uploaded by tomorrow at the latest.

Chapter 10

McCormick held his breath and waited for the pain to pass. This was getting old in a hurry.

"You need to take the medicine, McCormick," a voice growled from beside the bed.

That was getting old, too.

"I take the medicine when I need it, Judge. Let's not argue about it again."

"Then you got a strange definition of needin' it, kiddo. How bad are you gonna hurt before you just swallow the damn pill?"

Gritting his teeth, McCormick tried to explain. "Judge, everything that's gone on has been kind of...scary...for me. It's like I haven't been in control of my own life for a long time. And, as goofy as it sounds, when I take that medicine, I lose the rest of whatever control I'm getting back. I mean, if it doesn't knock me out completely, then I just get all loopy and can't think straight. And when I do go to sleep, my dreams are so weird, and I don't want..." He broke off and turned away, suddenly embarrassed at confessing his fears.

Hardcastle took a deep breath, forcing down a renewed anger for Garza, and focused his attention on McCormick. In the ten days since he had awakened, the ex-con had grown increasingly irritable, seeming to believe he should be able to simply jump right out of bed and get on with his life. And, he had grown more and more depressed each time he realized that simply wasn't the case.

Hardcastle reached out and placed his hand gently on the young man's arm. "It's all right, kid; I understand. I'm sorry you've had to go through all this, and I hate that you're still hurtin' so bad. But you have to remember that I'm here now, and I'm not gonna let anything hurt you again. I'm gonna help you, kiddo, until you feel like you're back in control again. Okay? Can you let me do that?"

McCormick drew in a shaky breath, and nodded his head slowly, but he didn't turn back to face the judge. He couldn't really decide if the gentle tone calmed him or scared him, but he did believe Hardcastle would do anything to keep him safe, and that reassurance finally allowed him to relax, breathe through his pain, and drift off to sleep.

And as he sat at McCormick's bedside, softly patting the arm beneath his hand, Hardcastle prayed for the complete recovery of his friend—body and soul.