Deep Regrets-cheride
Rating: G
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: In the third season opener, "She Ain't Deep But She Sure Runs Fast", the guysare stranded in the Oregon wilderness, and the future looks bleak.Believing they might not survive, they share some unusually honest conversation, including Mark's question, "You got any regrets?"The judge finally admits to having two, though he never elaborates. Personally, I was hoping to have that question answered before the series end, but it never happened. Then again, if they tied up all the loose ends, what would we have to do?!
"Can I ask you something, Judge?"
Alone in his den, Milton Hardcastle smiled at the memory that played through his mind. It had been years ago, yet it seemed like yesterday…
They were sitting on the beach, watching the last of the sunset. Mark McCormick was nursing his latest heartache, and more than nursing the bottles of beer he kept pulling from the cooler between them.
The retired judge smiled, convinced he was about to be asked for love advice. "What is it, kiddo?"
"What are your two regrets? I mean, I still can't believe it's only two—are you sure it's only two?—but I've been wondering…"
Hardcastle stared, momentarily speechless. Of all the things the ex-convict might have said, he doubted that anything could've surprised him more. It had been months since that night they'd spent in a cave in Oregon, discussing life's regrets over an open flame. He would've thought the kid had forgotten. Apparently not.
"Was that too personal?" McCormick asked when the silence had stretched to several minutes. "Sorry."
Hardcastle grinned at the expression painted on McCormick's face: a little boy who had disappointed his dad. "No, kid, it's not too personal; you just surprised me. And, yeah, I'm stickin' with two. Anyway, are you telling me this Ginger is one of your great regrets?"
The young man returned the grin. "Well, she sure is right now, even if I'll feel different about it next week. Anyway, it just got me to thinkin', is all." He looked at the jurist hopefully.
"Settle for one?" Hardcastle bargained.
"Okay."
The humor faded from the older face as Hardcastle said simply, "I wish I'd told Tommy how proud he made me."
It was McCormick's turn to stare. He had never expected the judge to talk about his son. "I'm sure he knew," he said softly.
"I think he did," Hardcastle agreed. "But I still wish I'd said it. Sometimes saying things out loud makes all the difference in the world."
"You've got your own way of saying things, Judge," McCormick answered confidently, "but you get your message across." The voice of experience.
The judge offered a small smile. When—and how—had this kid become the one who could so easily help heal such long buried hurts? "Thanks, kiddo."
Mark allowed his friend a few minutes of silence before deciding he should move the conversation back to more familiar territory. "Sure you don't wanna give up the other one?" he badgered, knowing Hardcastle would refuse.
Hardcastle found another grin, and gave a standard response. "Maybe when you're older."
"You at least want to tell me how a guy gets to be as old as you and only ends up with two regrets?"
"See, now that's a good question, McCormick," Hardcastle answered, rubbing his hands together in anticipation; a proud father about to pass on the wisdom of the ages. "The key is to see the good that comes from the bad. You can't really regret the things that finally turn out well." He paused, then explained. "Take Ginger, for instance. Somewhere out there is your Miss Right, but if Ginger hadn't dumped you, you'd never be able to find her. Get it?"
"Yeah," McCormick answered slowly, "I get it. Find the good." He took a drink of his beer, then sat up suddenly. "Hey!" he cried indignantly. "Who said she dumped me?"
Hardcastle just laughed, and—after a moment—McCormick joined in.
Lounged comfortably in his leather armchair, Hardcastle smiled wider. He was still surprised by the relief he'd felt at confessing a sorrow that he had never intended to reveal. Sometimes saying things out loud really did make all the difference. They had stayed on the beach for hours that evening, talking about an endless variety of things, and by the time they had trudged back up to the house, they both felt a little better about their regrets.
After a moment, Hardcastle's mind fast-forwarded over a year from that conversation. Still so long ago, but still so clear, and still he smiled…
"Judge?"
"Mmm-hmm?" It was a lazy Saturday at the pool, and Hardcastle was actually enjoying it.
"I was wondering about something…"
The judge looked over at his young friend. McCormick wasn't enjoying the weekend as much as he usually would, and Hardcastle silently cursed the professor who was causing the grief. "What's up, kiddo?"
"Well…I know you said when I was older, but…but you know Professor Golden is sort of fixated on my past right now, and thinking about my regrets sorta got me to thinking about yours again. Ready to spill the beans yet?"
Again Hardcastle was surprised at the topic, but there were more important concerns at the moment. "First of all, kiddo, you need to quit worrying about that jack-ass, Golden. Any mistakes you've made were a long time ago, and I don't want him makin' you feel like you're treading on some kind of sacred ground where you don't belong."
McCormick smiled at his friend's protective attitude. "Yeah, I know. But I just thought it might make me feel better to hear about one of your mistakes, too. You know, misery loves company and all that." He flashed his most charming grin.
"Mistakes and regrets aren't exactly the same thing," the judge replied, trying to change the subject.
"Come on, Hardcase; give." The dimples were working overtime.
Hardcastle shook his head slowly; this kid was like a dog with a bone. "I don't think this is really the time, McCormick."
McCormick's face fell. "Okay."
Hardcastle sighed. He never had been able to resist those puppy dog eyes, but this could get ugly. Especially since that highfaluting Golden was already giving Mark a hard time about his prison history. "Did it ever occur to you that you might not like the answer?" he asked.
The serious tone surprised McCormick. "What do you mean? What is there for me to like or not like?" He watched as Hardcastle seemed to try steeling himself to deliver bad news, and he steeled himself to hear it. "Is it…is it about me?" He paused, then blurted, "God, Judge, you're not sorry you brought me here?"
"What? No! Jeez, McCormick, sometimes you say the dumbest things!"
McCormick laughed nervously. "Well, that's a relief. You were startin' to scare me just a little."
The judge shook his head again. "Don't relax just yet." He took a breath. "The only other thing I've ever really looked back on and seriously wished I could do differently…this isn't easy for me to say, kiddo, but…I am really sorry I didn't find a way to keep you out of Quentin the first time you were in my court."
McCormick stared. He could feel his lips trying to force out words, but he knew his brain couldn't possibly be forming any coherent thoughts to translate into speech. "You…out…court…sent…"
Without meaning to, Hardcastle laughed. This really wasn't funny, but McCormick was so rarely at a loss for words. But still…
"I told you that you might not like it," he reminded the other man. He shrugged fractionally. "The law is the law, and all that, but I do wish I could've managed to spare you that time inside."
McCormick still wasn't sure what he was going to say, but he was determined to say something. "You knew I was innocent!" he finally accused
"Nope," Hardcastle contradicted, "I knew no such thing. Still don't, by the way. The letter of the law isn't as gray as you seem to believe, McCormick; it's pretty strict—black and white. Guilt or innocence really isn't a matter of perspective. You're gonna want to learn that if you're serious about becoming an attorney." He lightened his tone. "On the other hand, kiddo…even now, years later, you're still dealing with the fallout of a thoughtless mistake, and it kills me that you lost so much of your life over something so stupid. My regret is that I couldn't find a way to prevent it."
Hardcastle locked his eyes on the younger blue pair before him. "You asked."
"Yeah," McCormick agreed sullenly, "I did." He thought for a moment. "But what about all that stuff from before? About finding the good?"
"What about it?" the judge asked with a small smile. Was it possible the kid was ready to make that leap?
McCormick shrugged. "I don't know, but…"
Hardcastle waited to see what McCormick would say, but it seemed the young man wasn't quite able to move beyond his own long held regrets…or maybe resentments. After a moment, the judge let him off the hook. "For what it's worth, kiddo, my regret about this is for you. It's easy for me to find the good."
McCormick was silent for another moment, then shrugged again. "I guess it coulda been worse," he said finally, then jumped into the pool, making sure the splash reached the judge.
Hardcastle's smile didn't fade, even as he felt tears of affection dampening his eyes. Sometimes he still couldn't believe he had told the kid all that, though there was no denying he felt better afterward. But what he really couldn't believe was that McCormick had mostly taken it all in stride. Oh, Mark had been quieter than usual for a day or two, but he hadn't tried to reopen the conversation that weekend. In fact, the kid had never mentioned it again—until today…
Hardcastle sat in the audience, surrounded by McCormick's other friends, and watched with pride the pomp and circumstance of the graduation ceremony. His eyes blinked rapidly as he listened to McCormick's valedictory speech; it sounded a thousand times better today than it had the fifty times he'd helped the young man rehearse it.
It was all he could do to keep his mouth from moving along with the words, so he was surprised to hear McCormick continue after what should have been the end of his remarks.
"Lastly," McCormick said, his face beaming, "I want to give a message to the one person who made all of this possible. Judge…" He paused to let his glistening eyes find Hardcastle's. "I just want you to know that I found the good. No regrets."
Alone in his den, Milton Hardcastle replayed that amazing moment in his mind again and again until he heard the front door slam and a boisterous voice call out.
"C'mon, Hardcase, everyone's gonna be waiting for us down at the restaurant; we gotta go."
The judge rose from his chair and shouted back, "I've been waiting on you, hotshot!"
He was still smiling as he started for the door; they definitely had found the good.