Chapter 14
"Judge, I'm telling you, I'm fine! Go home, already, and take care of yourself." McCormick's peevish tone didn't really do justice to his genuine concern.
"Don't worry about me, McCormick," Hardcastle ordered, "and don't tell me what to do."
"You're wearing yourself out!"
"No, kid, that's what you're doing to me."
"Very funny," McCormick snapped, his irritation as real as his concern.
"Hey, you guys wanna hold it down in here? They can hear you halfway down the hallway." Frank Harper was grinning as he entered the room, but there was a trace of seriousness in his eyes. These last five weeks were taking their toll.
Two sets of angry blue eyes turned to look at the detective. McCormick raised one hand limply in a half-hearted wave, but that was the only greeting he received.
"Well, it's good to see you, too."
"Sorry, Frank," McCormick said, and almost managed to sound sincere. "But you wanna tell this donkey over here that I don't need a 'round the clock nursemaid anymore?"
"Hah!" Hardcastle interrupted before Harper could be pulled into the conversation. "If that was true, they woulda let you out of here already, but since they haven't, you obviously still need some watchin' over. So quit arguing with me about this because I'm the one who's right, de jure and de facto."
McCormick laughed suddenly, managing to reduce the rising tensions. "I just love it when he gets all legal," he said, rolling his eyes at Harper.
Hardcastle grinned, his own frustration diminished by McCormick's new good humor. "All right, kiddo, how about if I go get a cup of coffee and give us both a break? Frank, you'll be here for a few minutes?"
"Of course," Harper replied, relieved his friends could put aside their anger so easily.
"Okay, I'll be back in a little while."
McCormick held his tongue until the door was completely closed behind the judge, then he sighed loudly. "He's drivin' me crazy, Frank!"
Harper smiled as he pulled up a chair. "You need to cut him a little slack, Mark. This has been hard on him."
"Hard on him? I'm the one who almost died, and I'm the one who has to stay cooped up in this room like some kind of a prisoner. And I'm the one who has to look at his ugly mug and listen to his goofy stories day and night."
After a long moment of silence, McCormick realized he wasn't going to get any sympathy. "Oh, all right," he conceded, "I know it's been hard on him, too. He's been worried, and I appreciate the concern; I really do. But, Frank, he needs to get out of here. I'm gonna be fine; they let me out of bed a lot more these days; I can walk up and down the hallway all by myself; and they said I can probably even go home soon. But Hardcase hangs around here like I'm at death's door. He's exhausted. He doesn't sleep well, and he's trying to live off that crap they call food down in the cafeteria. I'm worried about him. And besides..."
It took a moment for Harper to realize McCormick didn't intend to finish his thought. "Besides what, McCormick?"
The young man shook his head. "Nothing. I'm just worried about him is all. I wish you'd talk to him and get him to go home."
The detective wasn't buying the brush-off. "And besides what?" he insisted.
McCormick sighed as a troubled look filled his face. "I'm not sure. I know he's tired, but, honestly, it's like I'm always on his last nerve. I mean, he won't leave, but he acts like he can't stand the sight of me sometimes. We fight all the time. Nothing I say is right. He gripes if I don't eat when he wants me to, or if I tell the nurses I don't want any pain medicine. Hell, he even complains if I don't sleep enough. Can you believe that?"
Harper smiled at the pitch of McCormick's last question. The higher octave was a sure sign the young man was reaching the end of his rope. "I think you're making too big a deal of this, Mark," he said reassuringly. "Milt's just been really worried about you, which is sort of unusual for him. At least, it's unusual for him to show it. And, you're right; he's worn out and should probably go home. But he hasn't quit blaming himself for what happened. When you get back home, things will be better."
"If I get back home," McCormick muttered.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Harper demanded.
McCormick shrugged—and reflected quickly how much easier that simple movement was becoming, though it still brought a stab of pain. "I told you, he's mad at me. I think it's because of...because of the things I did. But it's like he won't really get mad at me about that because I'm here, so he spends all his time yelling about other stuff. It's the craziest thing. And...it makes me wonder what he'll do when I'm better."
"What do you think he's gonna to? Lock you up?"
"Maybe."
The single word was spoken so quietly Harper almost missed it. And when it finally did register in his senses, he marveled that McCormick could honestly be worried. But now that he knew to look for it, the detective could clearly see the quiet fear in the young man's eyes. He shook his head slowly.
"Mark. You must've been taking more of that pain medicine than I thought. Trust me when I say that you do not need to be worried about this. There is no way Milt is sending you back."
"You don't know how angry he is," McCormick contradicted. "And...you don't know everything he's angry about."
Harper allowed himself a slight smile. "Actually, I think I have a pretty good idea of what he's mad about, and—trust me—I know what it's like to feel his wrath. And, I'm not saying there's not gonna be consequences. But, honestly, I think the worst thing you have to look forward to is some extra pruning or maybe scrubbing the sea wall. He isn't looking to make this official."
"Then why's he being so damned cantankerous?" McCormick demanded, throwing his arms up in exasperation, then immediately regretting the movement. "Aww, shit!" he cried, grabbing his right shoulder. "I shouldn't have done that."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," McCormick replied in a strained voice that betrayed the lie.
Harper reached for the call button. "Let's let someone take a look," he suggested, and grew more concerned when McCormick didn't object.
It only took a couple of minutes for the nurse to come bustling through the door, but it was long enough for McCormick's face to lose all color.
"Hey, Mark," the nurse said cheerfully as she approached the bed. "You've looked better."
It had been many days since the pain was stronger than McCormick's other feelings. He smiled bravely. "You, on the other hand, Lizzie, have never looked more beautiful."
Nurse Elizabeth Perlman laughed as she gently pulled McCormick's gown away from his shoulder. "I keep telling you, Mark, I don't date the patients." She pulled the bandages back a bit, and could see that blood was beginning to seep through the underlying gauze. She turned a mock scolding look on the young man. "And if you keep pulling your stitches loose, you're going to be a patient a very long time."
"Then I'll stop," he assured her.
"It's not really too bad," Perlman continued, including Harper in her glance. "I'll just go get a suture kit and we'll get it fixed right up." She turned her full attention back to McCormick. "I think you might need a pill now, too, okay? Just a light dose. It will help."
McCormick nodded his agreement. He hated medicine, but there was no sense being obsessive about the idea.
She smiled in relief. This one had been stubborn before. "Don't go anywhere," she said lightly as she turned to leave.
"For you, Lizzie, I would wait forever."
McCormick grinned as he saw Harper roll his eyes. "What?" he demanded once the nurse was out the door.
"I'm just a little bit in awe," the detective admitted. "You're laying in a hospital bed, hurting like hell, worn down, and worrying—however unnecessarily—about spending a long chunk of time behind bars, but you've still got the energy to flirt with the nurses?"
McCormick laughed. "Hey, life goes on," he said philosophically.
Harper shook his head. "Incredible.
"But listen," he continued, growing serious, "before she gets back. I want you to quit worrying. The only thing you need to focus on right now is getting well and getting out of here. I'll talk to Milt, if you want, but- - "
"No!" McCormick interrupted forcefully. "Frank, please. Don't tell him what I said. On the outside chance that you're right and he's not already planning my return to prison life, I don't want to give him any ideas. Okay? But I do wish you'd talk him into going home for a while. He really does need a break."
"Mark, half the problems you guys have happen because you won't just talk to each other. He should know how you feel."
McCormick shook his head and stared resolutely into Harper's eyes. "Please, Frank."
And in that instant, Harper knew that he would give in, even though he disagreed; knew suddenly that it would never be possible to withstand those blue eyes once McCormick made up his mind to be honest and sincere. He wondered briefly how Hardcastle ever managed to win any of their arguments.
"Oh, all right," he agreed reluctantly. "But I still think you'd be better off to tell him what's going on in that goofy brain of yours and ask him what's going on in his."
"Maybe someday," McCormick replied, resisting the impulse to shrug, "but not right now. But really, you make him take care of himself. He absolutely isn't listening to me."
"I'll do my best," Harper promised as the nurse re-entered the room. He sat silently as she tended to her patient, worried about the young man on several different levels.
"First, take this," Perlman instructed, handing McCormick a small pill cup and a glass of water. "It isn't a big dose, but it's still going to make you sleepy."
McCormick didn't argue as he gulped down the painkiller, so she knew he was hurting. She looked at him closely, gauging the level of pain, and was pleased to see him smile.
"I'm okay, Lizzie," he said softly. "Do what you need to do."
She returned the smile—reminding herself that she didn't date patients—and set to work. "First, just a small shot for local anesthetic. I know your shoulder is really tender, so it's going to hurt a bit." She carefully removed all the gauze and tape, cleaned the area, and then skillfully gave him the injection, ever mindful of his comfort.
"Didn't feel a thing," he told her with a small grin.
She made mindless chatter with him for a few moments, giving the medication time to take effect, then picked up her tools. "Okay, let's get you sewn back together."
She continued the light-hearted conversation as she began closing the gash of skin that McCormick's movement had re-opened. She had almost completed her task when she saw a grimace cross McCormick's face. "Mark? Did I- -"
"What the hell happened, Frank?"
Perlman winked at McCormick, offering silent support, then directed her comments to the newly returned Hardcastle. "It's nothing major, Judge Hardcastle. Mark pulled a few of his stitches loose, so we're putting him back together."
"You were supposed to watch out for him, Frank," Hardcastle accused.
"And you were supposed to chill out a little bit while you gone," McCormick interjected. "Anyway, I don't need a baby-sitter."
"Apparently you do," Hardcastle huffed.
"All done," Perlman interrupted suddenly, overly cheerful. She had witnessed enough of their bickering to know they usually just needed to be reminded of an audience in order to stop, and this was no exception.
"Is he okay?" Hardcastle asked the nurse, choosing to ignore his friends for the moment.
"He's fine, Judge. It really was fairly minor, just kind of painful. He'll probably be resting for a while." She rearranged McCormick's gown as she spoke. "Did you need anything else, Mark?"
He smiled at the young woman. "I'm good, Lizzie, thanks." He watched her leave before turning his attention to Hardcastle. "Judge..."
Wisely silent up until this point, Harper finally spoke up. "Hold it. Neither one of you talk; just listen.
"Milt, Mark is right; he doesn't need a baby-sitter. And it's not like he was out of bed playing basketball or something; he just moved wrong and the stitches came out. He took a pain killer, and he's going to rest for a while.
"And, Mark, while you might not need someone to be with you 'round the clock, you've had people worried lately, and it makes us feel better to know you've got someone with you. But, it does kind of wear Milt down, so you should try to cut him some slack if he's a little testier than usual.
"But since things seem to have reached a boiling point right now, here's what's gonna happen: Milt, you're gonna go home for a while." Harper glared at his friend and held up a single warning finger, forbidding interruption. "You're gonna have a decent meal, take a nice long shower, then crawl into bed and sleep for at least the next six hours. And I'm serious about that. Set your alarm or something, but don't get up out of that bed before six hours. Mark will be asleep a good portion of that time, anyway.
"And, Mark, you are gonna sleep. If that pill isn't strong enough to block the pain and let you rest, you're gonna get something stronger." He turned the stare and the finger toward McCormick. "You are going to sleep, because you're hurting, and because you're a little bit testy yourself. When you wake up, you also will have a decent meal, and if the pain is still bothering you, you'll let the nurses give you another dose of medicine.
"And during all of this, I will be right here, reading a magazine and maybe eating a cheeseburger, enjoying the peace and quiet." The detective stopped talking abruptly, and watched the other two men expectantly.
There was a moment of silence while both Hardcastle and McCormick seemed to consider their options, then they spoke, almost in unison.
"Okay."
Harper grinned, pleased with himself, and dropped back into his chair.
Hardcastle remained at the bedside, suddenly uncomfortable. He started to reach out and rearrange McCormick's blanket, then stopped himself and let his hands drop back to his sides.
Noticing the movement, McCormick smiled gently. He was already beginning to feel the effect of the medication, but there was still time for this. "I'm sorry I've been on your case, Judge."
Hardcastle waved dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I didn't mean to make all this harder on you, kiddo; I wanted to make it easier."
"And you have," McCormick answered softly. "Really. But you don't have a monopoly on worrying, you know. I want you to take care of yourself."
"You'll be okay?" Hardcastle asked, for once allowing his concern to genuinely show.
"I'll be fine. And Frank will be here, so you don't need to worry. Okay?"
"Okay," Hardcastle agreed with a slight nod. "Then I'll be back this evening."
"Good," the younger man answered with a smile.
Hardcastle grinned, reflecting quickly that McCormick really was a good kid, even when he was being annoying. Frank was right; a short break would be good for both of them. He glanced at the detective. "Thanks, Frank. I'll see you later."
Harper breathed a sigh of relief as the jurist exited. "Well, that didn't go so badly."
McCormick grinned. "You did great, Frank. Thanks."
"I was a little bit worried you guys might kill each other," Harper complained.
"I told you he was on edge." McCormick paused. "Well...okay, we're both on edge," he admitted. He felt his eyes drooping. "I think I'm gonna go ahead and sleep now, Frank," he said slowly. "But you don't really need to stay. I'm fine. Really."
Harper smiled. "If you think I'm gonna risk getting him pissed at me over this, you're crazy. If he came back and found me gone, your friend, Lizzie, would have to get me my own bed."
McCormick chuckled slightly as he pulled his blanket up around his chin. "Okay, I give. No more arguing today."
Still smiling, McCormick allowed himself to drift off to sleep. And in his dreams, he clipped hedges, and played basketball, and knew he would always be safe.
McCormick opened his eyes slowly and groaned slightly. He saw Harper looking at him with concern.
"Mark? Are you okay?"
McCormick pulled his hands across his face, doing his best to focus. "Yeah, I think so. Damn. I hate takin' that stuff."
Harper smiled at him. "Even in your sleep your shoulder seemed to be bothering you, so I think you did the right thing."
"So what time is it, anyway? Has Hardcase made it back yet?"
"Nah. If he actually does what I told him, he won't be back for another couple of hours."
"Good."
The detective looked at the young man crossly. "What do you mean, good? This little break was supposed to put you in a better frame of mind. You know, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that crap?"
McCormick grinned. "Don't worry; your plan worked. I just need you to get a few things together for me before the judge gets back."
Harper watched the other man suspiciously. Only McCormick could wake up from a drug induced nap with a scheme. "Go on..."
Frank Harper jumped to his feet as soon as he heard the door push open.
"Knock, knock," Hardcastle called heartily as he entered the room. "Hey!" he cried, as Harper pushed by him. "Where you rushing off to?"
"Back in a minute," the officer replied without pausing.
"What's with him?" Hardcastle grouched as he approached the bed.
McCormick mimicked Harper's non-answer. "He'll be back in a minute."
Hardcastle just shook his head, wondering briefly what had ever possessed him to allow a friendship between the ex-con and the detective. Honestly, that was just asking for trouble, he thought to himself with a small grin, though he knew he wouldn't really have it any other way.
"Yeah, okay." He dismissed the idea from his head. "I brought you something," he said, raising his hands to reveal a white sack and paper cup.
"Burger Man?" McCormick asked gleefully, a sudden grin lighting his face.
"Yep," the judge replied, "including one of those chocolate shakes you like so much." He placed the food on the table, set about raising McCormick's bed slightly higher, and then slid the table into place. "All set?"
"All set," McCormick agreed, as he greedily opened the bag.
"I know Harper said you were supposed to have a decent meal," Hardcastle continued, "but I figured you might be going into some kind of junk food withdrawal."
"You got that right." McCormick gladly stuffed a handful of fries into his mouth. "Thanks, Judge," he said thickly.
"You're welcome, kiddo," Hardcastle grinned. The smallest things always seemed to bring the biggest joy to McCormick.
"That other sack for me, too?" McCormick asked between bites, glancing at the previously ignored brown paper bag.
"Yeah, but not for right now. It's some of those car magazines you like." Hardcastle placed the bag onto the nightstand, then took up his familiar spot in the bedside chair. "I figure if you're gonna keep runnin' me off, you'll need something to do while you're here alone."
A flicker of guilt crossed McCormick's face as he placed his cheeseburger back down on the paper wrapper and looked at Hardcastle. "I'm not runnin' you off, Judge," he said softly.
"Sure you are, kid, but that's okay. I should've let you do it a long time ago. You're right; we're wearing each other down. I need to quit being so overprotective and just let the hospital do their job."
"But you'll stay for a while tonight, right?" McCormick asked hopefully.
Hardcastle smiled in surprise; there was just no understanding this kid. "As long as you want, kiddo."
"Good," McCormick grinned, and returned his attention to his meal.
Hardcastle grabbed a news magazine off the stack Harper had brought in and settled back in his chair. Only then did he notice the television on a rolling cart sitting just beneath the one mounted on the wall. "Your TV go out or something?"
"Something," McCormick mumbled around the burger.
Hardcastle looked more closely. "And they brought you a VCR, too?"
McCormick gave a half-hearted shrug, mindful of his shoulder. "That's the way it came."
McCormick's response seemed a little odd to the judge, but before he could really consider it, Frank Harper came back through the door. But Hardcastle smelled him before he saw him. "Popcorn?" he asked in surprise, looking at the bowl the detective carried.
McCormick grinned. "See? I got you a snack, too."
Harper placed the bowl on the table next to Hardcastle, then pulled open a drawer to reveal a small Styrofoam cooler. "And there's soda and a few beers, too," he explained. He glanced at McCormick. "But only soda for you, young man."
Hardcastle laughed. "Thanks, guys."
"Don't thank me," Harper said as he started back for the door. "I'm just the leg man; it was Mark's idea."
"Where're you going?" Hardcastle asked.
"Home to my wife," Harper answered with a grin. "You guys have a good evening."
McCormick waved. "Thanks for everything, Frank. See you later."
Hardcastle looked back at his young friend with a smile. "Thanks, kid."
"You ain't seen nothin' yet," McCormick answered smugly. He reached under his blanket and produced a remote control. Pointing it at the newly arrived rolling cart, he powered on both the television and the tape player, and after just a moment, Hardcastle could see the sprawling opening sequence of True Grit.
The judge laughed aloud as he grabbed a beer and put the magazine aside. "You're too much, kiddo," he said as he made himself comfortable. He looked around the room a moment, and then added, "Well, it doesn't quite have all the comforts of home..."
"No," McCormick agreed, "not quite." He glanced over at the older man, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "But it does have the best parts."