A/N: Well, here it is: final chapter! The boys are headed home at last, though only time (just a bit more) will tell what happens once they get there.

Thanks so much to those of you who have stayed with me and taken the time to read this; your interest is truly appreciated. And, feedback is always welcome, so let me know what you think, if you're so inclined.

Chapter 17

Hardcastle glanced at the passenger side of the Corvette with a grin. McCormick was sitting straight up in the seat, his stiff right arm resting on the open window, eyes wide open with wonder, and a smile lighting his face. "God, it's a beautiful day, Judge!" the young man exclaimed.

Hardcastle laughed. "You act like you've never seen outside before, kiddo." It probably wouldn't do to let on just how much the simple joy delighted him.

"I feel like I've never seen outside before, Judge." McCormick breathed in deeply, then let out a long, slow exhale. "The ocean smells great, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, kid, it does," Hardcastle replied, his grin matching McCormick's.

And that's how they completed the drive to Malibu: McCormick enjoying life, and Hardcastle enjoying McCormick.

McCormick followed Hardcastle's pointing finger and folded himself down onto the sofa while the judge carried the bag upstairs. Truth be told, the drive home had worn the young man down just a bit, but there was no way he was going to admit that to Hardcastle. It was already annoying that he still had so little strength; no way he needed to have Hardcastle fussing over him any more than he already was.

As if on cue, a voice carried over the balcony. "You sure you're gonna be up to these stairs, kiddo?" Hardcastle moved away from turning down the bed and leaned over to peer down into the living area. "We could set up a bed down there. Or, you could come set up camp in the den for a while?"

McCormick grinned slightly. They had already had that discussion at least a dozen times, but the judge clearly would've preferred that McCormick not be alone in the gatehouse just yet. "I'll be fine, Judge," he assured the older man. "I'm ready to sleep in my own bed. It's time to start getting things back to normal." It was the same argument that had finally caused Hardcastle to give in originally, and it again brought an end to this particular conversation. But McCormick saw the brief flicker of uncertainty that played across the jurist's expression, and his own eyes became serious. This had gone on long enough; he wouldn't live with this apprehension in his own home.

He took a steadying breath as Hardcastle descended the stairs, then spoke. "You ever planning on tellin' me what's bothering you, Judge?"

Hardcastle's step faltered momentarily, then he continued for the front door. "Don't know what you're talking about, kid. Now you should take a nap before lunch."

"Milt. Please."

The quiet desperation in the voice behind him froze Hardcastle in place. He let his hand fall from the doorknob, and turned slowly, bracing himself for what had to be done.

"I'm thinking it's time to make a change, kiddo. This isn't really working."

The color drained from McCormick's face and his breath caught. He thought he had been prepared for this, though it occurred to him now that had been just another of his insane thoughts. How did you prepare for this?

"Judge...I don't want...I can't..." He took a shaky breath, rose from his seat on the sofa, and made the argument he had already worked out in his head. "Don't put me back inside, Judge, please. I mean, I know I did some things on the case that you weren't thrilled about, but I won't do it again. Can't you give me a chance to fix it?"

"What?" Hardcastle was still surprised anytime he was reminded how fragile McCormick believed his freedom to be. "No. That's not what I meant. You haven't done anything wrong, kiddo."

"Then...why?"

"I'm not sending you back to prison, McCormick," the judge clarified. "Jeez, what were you thinkin'?"

"I was thinkin' you were mad at me," McCormick answered quietly. "For all the jobs."

"I was mad at you," Hardcastle concurred gruffly. "Hell, I am mad at you. Some of that stuff just really wasn't too bright."

"Well, then..." McCormick raised his eyebrows quizzically. "What was I supposed to think?"

"Dammit, McCormick," Hardcastle barked, "I get mad at you all the time. So what? Don't you know by now I would never- - -" He broke off suddenly and clenched his teeth together, glaring at the younger man.

McCormick felt himself relax, and a small smile formed on his face. "Watch out there, Hardcase; you're about to give up all your leverage."

"Ya think?" the judge challenged quietly.

Mark allowed his eyes to meet Hardcastle's. "Nah, probably not," he admitted gently.

That was as close as they were ever likely to get to admitting that the fundamental basis of their relationship had changed, and for a moment, neither man spoke.

Finally, McCormick's confusion reared its head again. "Okay, so if you're not putting me back inside, then what? I thought the deal- -"

"The deal," Hardcastle interrupted, "was for you to be in my custody indefinitely. By definition, that means not for a specified amount of time but until I say it's been long enough. I'm saying it's been long enough. I'll arrange for an officer down at the parole board to take over your case and you can report to them for the rest of your parole."

"But..."

"But what, McCormick? I would've thought you'd be glad to be off the hook. Now you can live your life. Get a real job; get your own place; go back to racing if that's what you want."

McCormick stared at the judge, dumbfounded. Of all the scenarios his imagination had conjured up in the last few weeks, he had never seen this coming. And the real irony of this whole situation was that a year ago—maybe even six months ago—he would've jumped at the deal Hardcastle had just offered. Hell, if he'd been asked six minutes ago, he probably would've said he wanted to be free from his indentured servitude to good old Hardcase Hardcastle. But he suddenly realized that his answer would've come from habit more than from truth.

Because the truth was he didn't want to leave.

McCormick considered the realization silently. How could he possibly want to stay in the judge's custody rather than live a life of relative freedom? He had been doing just fine on his own for the first six months of his parole, and he could do just fine again. Why would he keep himself here, where he would certainly die an early death—from some sort of exhaustion working out in the yard, or in some insane car chase, or, of course, even from the all too frequent bullet like the one that had recently almost done him in—when he could get an actual job? And Hardcastle was right...he might could even get back into racing; it hadn't really been all that long. But...

And, anyway, what about the judge? Who would be Tonto and watch out for him? If he tried working some of his cases alone, he could get hurt...or worse. McCormick remembered with dreadful clarity the painful hours spent in Garza's office, and tried not to imagine Hardcastle lying bleeding on that floor. But he knew that's what would happen if he weren't around. As much as he hated always being the clay pigeon, he really didn't want the judge using himself as bait. And now Hardcastle was going to send him away? Not if he could help it.

"I don't want that, Judge." The words were spoken so quietly Hardcastle had to strain to make them out.

When the judge didn't answer, McCormick continued, his voice stronger. "I mean...you're still the boss, Judge, so I'll do whatever you say, but I thought we were doing a good thing here. I thought we were doing what you wanted. You had it all planned out, didn't you? Was it supposed to end this way, Judge? Is this part of your retirement plan?"

"Look, kiddo," Hardcastle began, "if you're worried about money, you can stay in the gatehouse until- -"

"No, Hardcastle," McCormick interrupted harshly, "I'm not worried about money." He took a deep breath and allowed himself to say the things that were on his mind. "I'm worried about you." He met the judge's eyes and held the gaze.

"Can you promise me you're not gonna try going after any of the creeps in your files by yourself? If so, I won't argue with your decision; I'll just go. Even if...." He made himself say the words. "Even if you're gonna get someone else, I can live with that, I guess. Doesn't mean I'll like it, because—believe it or not—you're actually starting to convince me that what we're doing is important, and I wouldn't mind helping you do it some more. But still...I would go, if that's what you wanted.

"But you can't do this alone. It's dangerous. This last case should sure as hell have proven that. I won't have you working by yourself, Judge; you'll have to put me back in Quentin before I'll let that happen."

Dammit. Hardcastle had never been a man comfortable with discussing emotional issues, and McCormick's relative ease at saying the things on his mind—and his heart—had always amazed him. But, if he was going to send him away, the kid probably did deserve an honest explanation. "I can take care of myself, kiddo," he said hoarsely. "It's you I seem to be having some difficulty looking after."

McCormick stared, disbelieving. Another thing he hadn't really seen coming, though all the signs had certainly been there. "Is that what this is about?" He was relieved to discover that he wasn't to blame for Hardcastle's sudden change of direction, but this was insane.

"God, Judge, it wasn't your fault I got hurt, you know. I thought we had settled that."

"Then whose fault is it?" Hardcastle demanded. "I'm the one who brought you here to chase after the bad guys, and I'm the one who sent you into Garza's group. If that doesn't make it my fault, I don't know what does."

"You're crazy," McCormick said flatly. "I'm the one who screwed up. Said too much and made him suspicious, then went back anyway when I sure as hell should've known better. So if either of us is to blame, it's me. But, here's a thought for you, Judge: how about we let Garza take the blame? He is the one who pulled the trigger, after all. I thought that was the whole idea behind your crazy justice crusade, anyway. The people responsible take the blame and pay the price." McCormick knew he had scored with that comment, but he could tell Hardcastle wasn't completely convinced. He continued his argument.

"And anyway, after all this, you're gonna actually let Garza win? The only thing he cared about, Judge, was splitting us up. He wanted you to get rid of me. Now you're gonna let him get away with it? You're gonna let him have that satisfaction?"

McCormick thought he had almost gotten through to the other man, but he could still see the lingering guilt and the overwhelming fear in Hardcastle's eyes. It surprised him, really. Even with all they'd been through together, he never would've expected this level of concern.

He gave an imperceptible shake of his head. "I'm okay, Judge," he said softly. "Really."

"Do you know how close you came to not being okay, kiddo?" Hardcastle had intended to bark out the question harshly and force the young man to recognize his own mortality. Instead, his voice was filled with desperation, almost pleading for understanding. He turned away quickly, not wanting McCormick to see any more of the raw emotion flashing in his eyes.

After a moment, McCormick crossed to the older man and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know it was close, Judge, but you made sure I was okay." He paused a brief moment, then added, "Just like always." The words gave him an idea for a slightly different approach. He didn't want Hardcastle taking the blame for what had happened with Garza, but it might be okay to give him responsibility for other things.

"If I go, Hardcase," McCormick continued mildly, "who's gonna watch over me then? Who's gonna keep me in line and out of trouble? I don't ever want to go back to prison, Judge, but..."

Hardcastle had the definite feeling he was being manipulated—though he thought the kid meant well—but he still didn't like the unfinished thought McCormick had left hanging in the air. He pulled away from the comforting hand and turned to face his young friend.

"But what, McCormick?"

The ex-con shrugged lazily. "I don't know, Judge. It's just that sometimes I sorta do dumb things, ya know? I mean, even with Garza...I know I made some mistakes. In fact, I think if I hadn't ended up in the hospital, you might have made sure I ended up in a cell somewhere just on general principle."

"I don't know about that," the judge objected with a small smile, beginning to understand where the conversation was leading. "At least you were working for the good guys."

"Yeah," McCormick agreed, "this time."

"You tellin' me you can't behave yourself, kiddo?" It might be fun to know just how much of a line of crap the kid was willing to throw out there.

"Well..." Again the lazy shrug. But McCormick was willing to say just about anything to get things back to normal, especially when all that was needed was an honest admission. "I'm just sayin' sometimes it's good to have some help." He let the words sink in a moment, then went on. "But if we're through here, Judge, I can certainly manage. I was doing okay before you brought me here, I'll do okay again."

"I don't know, kiddo. Seems to me I found you in a courtroom about to head off to Quentin again," Hardcastle reminded him.

McCormick glanced down at his tennis shoes. He should've known Hardcase wouldn't make this easy. "Juuuudge..."

Hardcastle laughed briefly; it was time to let the kid off the hook. And time to make a final decision.

"Are you sure about this, McCormick?" He looked at the young man intently. "Because I really will let you out of the deal, kiddo. And..." the judge hesitated. He breathed deeply before continuing. "And if you were serious about anything you said earlier...I really will retire if that's what it takes to...to keep you safe."

McCormick felt his breath catch again, but not from fear this time. No, not fear. In fact, if he had to put a name on the feeling tightening in his chest right now...

Even in his mind, McCormick backed away from this particular admission. But the word buzzed in his head, refusing to be denied. He tried to tear his eyes away from Hardcastle's gaze, but the same emotion was shining strongly in those pale blue eyes.

McCormick smiled, enjoying the love he felt in this rare moment of candor, and found his voice. "I'm sure, Judge. Somebody has to be the Lone Ranger, and somebody has to be Tonto to keep the ranger's butt out of a sling."

"And somebody has to make sure Tonto doesn't go riding off down the wrong path every now and then," Hardcastle added with a grin.

"Absolutely," McCormick agreed easily.

Hardcastle laughed again as he started back toward the door. "Get your rest, kiddo," he said in his patented gruffly affectionate tone.

Seeing McCormick start to object, he continued quickly. "Don't argue, McCormick. I'm only lettin' you stay over here because you promised to follow the doctor's orders. If you give me any lip, I will make you stay in the den. Or," he added darkly, "I'll have the doc put you back in the hospital."

McCormick held up his hands in surrender. "I'll be good, Hardcase."

"Good. I'll wake you when it's lunch time."

"Hey, Masked Man." McCormick's voice stopped him just before he could step out the door. Hardcastle turned back to face the curly head and twinkling blue eyes.

"I'm glad I'm staying."

Hardcastle smiled, and matched the sincere tone. "Me, too, Tonto. Me, too."

And as he walked toward the main house, Hardcastle finally knew that both he and McCormick were going to be okay after all.