Author's Note: I came up with this idea on the fly, after hearing the unusual name of a neighbor's child.

The time period of this story is first season, no specific date other than before my story "Bait and Snitch" (Sarah is still around, although she's not an active character in this story).

-ck

Disclaimer: I do not own these beloved characters, and I am writing for fun and feedback, not for profit.

A THIN SLICE OF LIFE

by InitialLuv

"What are you doing?"

The irritated question announced Milton C. Hardcastle's entrance into the kitchen. Mark McCormick looked up briefly from a bucket of hot, soapy water, squeezing out the excess liquid from the rag he was using. "I'm getting my teeth cleaned. What does it look like I'm doing?"

I've got to stop setting myself up like that, Hardcastle thought. What he said was, "It looks like you've dismantled the whole kitchen!" The judge waved a hand at the "dismantling": the pantry and cupboards were standing open, with most of their contents spread out on the counters, table, and floor. There was a partial roll of shelf paper on the floor, next to a pair of scissors and a retractable utility knife. Finally, there was a wise-ass ex-con on his knees, holding the rag in one hand as he practically climbed into a cupboard.

The destruction of the kitchen annoyed Hardcastle; the smart comment and resultant brushoff incensed him. "McCormick!" he bellowed, and grinned maliciously when he saw – and heard – Mark strike his head on the inside of the cabinet. Edging out into the open with a hand massaging his head, the younger man glared up acidly at the judge. "What?"

"Don't give me that." Milt again gestured at the mess. "It looks like a bomb went off in here. Or did we have an earthquake that was just localized to the kitchen?"

"Ho, that's a real knee-slapper, Judge," McCormick said, snorting lightly. "You should probably leave the jokes to me." Rising, he gazed around the room with a slight frown, as if seeing the destruction fully for the first time. "Huh. Uh, well, you know how sometimes when you're doing a big job, you have to make a mess first, before you get everything back the way you want it?"

"Yeah," Milt drawled. "Is that what you're doing to my gatehouse? Making a complete mess of it before you get it cleaned up the way it should be?"

McCormick looked back in exasperation. He opened his mouth as if to reply, but just shook his head silently. Hardcastle grinned. "You can dish out the jokes, but you can't take them, huh?"

Not answering the question (other than rubbing his head with a sulky expression), Mark asked, "What do you want, Judge?"

"I was checking on supper. The stuff Sarah left for us is gone; I warmed up that last casserole last night. So what are you planning for tonight? It's your turn to cook, you know."

"Oh, is it?" McCormick said in mock dismay. "And the kitchen is in a shambles! Whatever will we do?"

"Knock it off," Milt muttered, lifting a hand to scrub at his face in an effort to hide a grin. "Why is this place in a 'shambles' anyway? What are you doing?"

Mark shrugged one shoulder. "Cleaning and repapering the cupboards and washing the doors. Sarah asked me to do that while she was gone."

Hardcastle lifted his eyebrows, looking in disbelief at the kid. "She's been at her sister's for over a week, and you finally decide to do this chore for her the day before she comes back?"

Mark sputtered some noises of indignation; the judge watched in amusement as the ex-con attempted to defend his procrastination. "Well, it's not like I was sitting by the pool eating bon-bons the last couple of days," McCormick finally got out. "In between hedge-trimming and garage-sweeping and bad guy-staking out. . . "

"Bad guy-staking out?"

"You know what I mean!" Mark gestured angrily at the judge. "And what about the chore she gave you? Do you have yours done yet?"

Milt scoffed. "Chore. This is my house, you know. You're the one working for room and board."

Mark leaned against one of the cluttered counters, crossing his arms. "You don't have it done yet, do you?"

The two stared at each other quietly for a moment, before Hardcastle broke the gaze with a "Dammit!" and turned on his heel to exit the kitchen. Before he had completely crossed the threshold, he turned back to holler, "Just clean up this mess!"

McCormick was laughing too hard to respond.

ooOoo

By the time Hardcastle was finished rearranging and condensing his extra file boxes (which had been partially blocking Sarah's access to the washer and dryer), McCormick had the kitchen mostly back in order. But at that point it was late enough that the two men decided a pizza would be easier, and quicker, than cooking. "Can we go out, though?" McCormick asked. "I've been stuck inside all day, and it would be kinda nice to get some fresh air."

"Go out?" the judge repeated. "What for? We'd have to get all cleaned up – "

"So you'll change into a different pair of sweatpants. How gussied up do you need to be to go to a pizza parlor? C'mon, Judge, live a little."

They met at the Coyote twenty minutes later. McCormick's hair was still damp from the shower, and he had changed into a decent button-down shirt and cream-colored jeans. Milt looked at the "gussied-up" ex-con suspiciously. "Okay. Who works at the pizza parlor?"

Mark slid into the Coyote in his customary fashion, through the window. "Sarika," he said, grinning unabashedly.

"Sarika?" Milt was clambering into his side of the car, both satisfied that he could enter through the window without injuring himself and irritated that he would never be able to do it as smoothly as McCormick. "What sort of name is Sarika?"

"The name of a goddess. You remember her, don't you? The last time we stopped to pick up a couple of pizzas on the way home, she was working? Long blonde hair, green eyes, perfect body in that cute little uniform. . . " Mark tipped his head back, sighing deeply.

Hardcastle snorted. "Yeah, I remember now. You were draped all over the checkout counter making eyes at the poor girl, and I had to drive home because you were all distracted, busy daydreaming about her. Plus she charged us too much!"

"Ah, you can afford it." Mark started up the car. "And I told you, that was her tip, for having to wait on a big old curmudgeon like you."

"Curmudgeon?" Milt roared, just as Mark hit the gas. The revving of the engine overrode the judge's indignant yell.

ooOoo

The restaurant was fairly busy, in between the people arriving for carry-outs and the ones waiting for tables. When a host approached Hardcastle and McCormick and started to lead them to a table, Mark placed a hand on the man's arm. "Hey. Any way we can sit in Sarika's section?"

The man looked unsure. "Uh – Sarika?"

Mark nodded with a smirk, then gestured at the blonde beauty, who was waiting on a table in a corner of the restaurant. "Yeah. We'll wait if we need to."

"Speak for yourself!" Hardcastle muttered. "I'm getting hungry!" McCormick elbowed the older man in the ribs. Milt swatted Mark's arm away.

"Yeah, I think I have a small table over by her. It's just the two of you?" When Mark nodded again, the host changed his route, eventually seating the men at a table near the corner. Mark immediately took the outside chair, forcing Milt to sit closer to the wall. Turning his chair sideways, McCormick leaned back casually with one arm hooked over the chair, puffing his chest out slightly.

Milt shook his head slowly at the display. "Unbelievable," he murmured.

"Shaddup," Mark whispered back, barely moving his mouth. Then he suddenly sat up straighter, his face lighting up. Hardcastle looked to see the blonde waitress approaching. In Mark's defense, the judge had to admit the woman was a looker.

Before the waitress could begin to introduce herself, McCormick was grinning widely, his cheeks at full dimple. "Hi," he said, the word a soft exhalation.

She smiled back, but there was a look of obligation to it, a pleasantness that was only related to her job. "Hi, how are you two tonight?"

"Hungry!" Milt answered. Mark shot him a look, then cleared his face and turned back to the blonde. "Don't mind him. He doesn't get out of the nursing home much. We're good – especially now that you're here." McCormick's grin had now turned sly.

"Well, I hope you both are hungry!" the waitress piped. "I'm Sakari, and I'll be your waitress this evening."

Mark's eyes went to the waitress's name tag, and his grin faded. Milt leaned forward. "Sakari?" he echoed. He was now the one grinning. "Huh. That's an unusual name." He looked sidelong at McCormick. "I don't think I've ever heard of the name Sakari."

Sakari waved a hand, as if she was questioned about her name often and was tired of explaining it. "Oh, it's just a family name." She handed out the two menus she was carrying. "Did you two want some drinks now, or with your meal?"

McCormick had withdrawn somewhat, so Milt requested a pitcher of beer, and Sakari left to fetch the order. When she was out of earshot, Mark muttered, "God, I feel like an ass. No wonder the guy that seated us looked at me like I was an idiot. Here I thought this woman could be the love of my life, and I didn't even know her name."

Milt smiled, watching as the dejected ex-con turned his chair back to the table and stared at the checkered tabletop. "Oh, please. You weren't even on a first-name basis with the girl – " Mark looked up with a glare at that comment, but the judge just chuckled and continued, " – and you think she's 'the one'? Why? Because she's good-looking? There's a lot more to women than their looks, you know."

"Yeah?" Mark mumbled. "Well, I'm not exactly gonna go up to some woman and ask about all of her inner qualities. I like how someone looks, and I introduce myself. What's wrong with that?"

"I guess not too much – as long as you call the girl the right name."

Mark huffed softly, grabbing his menu. "I don't know, Judge. Sarika, Sakari. . . What happened to girls with normal names, like Linda or Becky?"

Milt picked up his menu as well. "I got lucky. Nancy is a pretty normal name. But don't worry about it. When you find the right girl, you'll remember everything about her. Whether her name is something goofy like Juniper or something ordinary like Kathy."

Mark hmmped. "Juniper." He perused the menu. "Want to get cheese bread or garlic bread with the pizza?"

Hardcastle shrugged with a smile. "How about both?"

END