Disclaimer: The characters and concepts of Hardcastle & McCormick do not belong to me. This is for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made from it.
Author's Notes: This is an epilogue for "Man in a Glass House."
Comments welcome at: [email protected]
YOU'LL DO
by Sarah Enany
McCormick lay awake, thinking. Damned if that old donkey didn't take
the biscuit. The chocolate covered, three layer, cream-filled
biscuit. Breaking into a police garage. To save a mobster. Hoo boy.
Crazy. Beyond crazy. Stark raving mad!
He rolled over in bed, trying to get some sleep, but was not
altogether surprised when his eyes flicked open for the twentieth
time that night.
Shit! What was it about Hardcastle's action that had produced such an
effect?
//Surprised you, didn't he?// came the answer out of the blue.
McCormick sighed. He'd never get to sleep tonight! He turned over in
his bed again, acknowledging silently that this was just it; the
Judge had surprised him. He'd done something McCormick hadn't in his
wildest dreams thought he was capable of, and that was forcing him to
rethink his image of the hard-nosed judge.
Told him as much, hadn't he? "Outside, you're all rough, and tough,
and inside, you're a sucker for a hard-luck story."
//Shit,// he thought, //when I first met him, I hated him. Hated
him. I used to fantasize a wall would fall on him or something before
my trial. When I was in jail, I thought about revenge, then forgot
about it. Figured his wrongs would catch up to him eventually.
Thought he had no feelings. Then, when I got out and he started
breathing down my neck, I thought.// McCormick's face grew hot, even
alone in the room. He'd thought, not to mince words, that perhaps a
horny old judge fancied a piece of pretty young ex-con ass. It was
not unheard of; it had happened before with people he knew. People
abusing their power. But it hadn't been like that. Mark had realized
from their first real meeting, when he'd taken off his robes to
reveal that ridiculous Aloha shirt, that that was not what the Judge
was after. Not so much from what he said, as the way he said it. You
could tell this wasn't the kind of guy who could exploit anyone
sexually. If he wasn't a judge, in fact, you'd doubt he knew the
concept existed.
Then, the crazy agreement. He'd known then that the man was something
out of the ordinary, though perhaps not a `saint' as Sarah described
him. He'd thought he had him pegged, then; hard, unbending.
Inflexible. Unyielding. A real tight-ass, with no humanity in him.
Lone Ranger. Hunt `em, hear `em, and hang `em. But.
The Judge had surprised him.
//That's what you can't take, isn't it? Knowing you were so wrong. //
McCormick had made up his mind to tolerate the tight-ass for as long
as it took to get out of the agreement, since their ways of thinking
were so different that it was impossible they would ever really get
along. He couldn't understand someone who put rules above people.
But last night had shown him that the Judge didn't, and that was just
it. What he'd seen had forced him to admit that the one-dimensional
picture the Judge presented to the world was - not false, he couldn't
say false, but it was not the whole truth. A man who would betray his
principles, his rules, everything he'd ever stood for, to save
another human being's life - that was someone McCormick could relate
to, and respect.
And that was what bothered him.
//You're actually beginning to like the old buzzard, aren't you?//
//No way! //
//Well.//
McCormick jumped out of bed to look out the window, hoping for a
breath of fresh air. //This is insane! We got NOTHING in common. I
bend the rules.//
//So does he. //
//Yeah, but. I care about people, not dumb rule-books.//
//So does he. //
//Yeah, okay, but still.// Smiling, McCormick remembered the vision
of the Judge, creeping into the garage, clad in black from head to
toe. in those ridiculous tennis shoes. //That was the funniest thing
I've ever seen. He pretends to be worldly-wise, but he's so na�ve in
some ways. Heading out to do a second-story job with no experience,
for crying out loud! What if he'd really gone into that police
impound lot without my help? How'd he have gotten over the fence?
Gotten into the car? He'd've probably just stood there till the dogs
came and.//
McCormick flinched. He realized that he didn't want to imagine the
dogs attacking Hardcastle. //Funny, just a month ago you'd have loved
to imagine him getting eaten up by hungry dogs. //
//Yeah, but that was before I got to know him. //
McCormick ran a hand through his hair in frustration. //I don't
believe this! He was supposed to be someone I just put up with! A law-
abiding, tough, strict, tight-ass! Not someone who'd make that kind
of sacrifice for a mobster who just trashed him in a million-copy
bestseller! //
//Cadillac had him pegged a whole lot better than you, Oh Mighty
Judge of Character. He went to him for help. //
//AND he wasn't supposed to have all this loss in his background! How
can you hate a guy who lost his whole family? And why's he keep it
such a secret? He never even talks about his son dying in `Nam. //
//Hey, you've only known him a month. Why would he? //
The sound of a thumping basketball roused him from his reverie.
Looking down, he saw a familiar short, stocky figure, in sweatpants
and that silly baseball hat, shooting baskets.
Seen from above, without his tough fa�ade, he looked very small and
alone on the big cold court. //He must be lonely a lot of the
time. // The thought came unbidden.
//Shit. I'm not feeling sorry for him. I absolutely refuse! He sent
me up for two years! He represents everything I hate about the law!
(Except he risked it all to save the guy, and he's not like he
seems.)//
McCormick's face twisted in indecision a moment, then
cleared. //Well, he's not feeling lonely tonight. // Turning away
from the window, he pulled on a pair of sweatpants over his shorts
and headed for the basketball court. //Hell, it's not like I was
getting any sleep anyway.//
* * *
Hardcastle lay awake, thinking. Damned if that kid didn't take the
biscuit! Walking in and confessing to breaking into a police impound
lot! He'd never imagined he would do that, this early in the game. Oh
sure, he'd suspected that Mark McCormick seemed a stand-up guy, but
he hadn't expected so much, so soon.
//Surprised you, didn't he? //
//Yeah. I knew the kid had potential, but he's even better than I
thought. I thought I could teach him about integrity. Looks like he
could teach me a thing or two about loyalty, and sacrifice. //
Sacrifice. He'd gone down in the cold to find the kid sitting
waiting. Waiting to help him commit a crime that could get him put
back behind bars. //But why? He hardly knows me! How did he know I'd
go? And why would he take that kind of a risk for someone he hardly
knows? //
//To save a life. //
//Shit! // Even as he walked into the office to confess, the Judge
had already been starting to feel guilty about having asked it of
McCormick. "I thought you'd be man enough." That damned emotional
blackmail. //Oh well, // he'd thought, //it's just as well he didn't
give in to it. I can't ask him to run the risk of being a two-time
loser just to follow my own principles. It's just asking too much. //
And then, he'd looked around and found him at his shoulder, taking
the blame. Not sharing it - taking it.
"He couldn't pick a lock in a motel door in Iowa. I picked the lock."
Loyalty, integrity, courage and even chivalry, disguised under that
same smart mouth that he pretended to dislike, but which was
becoming - becoming -
He shot a basket savagely, missed. Becoming - why was it so hard to
articulate, even in his mind? Becoming something he needed, enjoyed?
It was giving him a feeling he'd missed for so very long. Warmth.
Fun. The mind-sharpening thrill of verbal battles without the threat
that usually went with a battle of wits. The kid had the courage to
take him on as an equal - though his position was, technically,
subordinate, he had as good as said that he wanted no part of it. You
either relate to me as an equal, his attitude seemed to say, or not
at all. Which was fine with Hardcastle. He'd seen too many kowtowing,
humble hypocrites. This kid was a different class of person
altogether. He instinctively felt the absence of malice in Mark
McCormick - and the events of the last 24 hours had shown him the
tip of an iceberg of humanity and compassion that, frankly, awed him.
He'd been waiting out there, for hours, in the complete certainty
that the Judge would show up. //Who is this kid, anyway, that he
should know me so well? Know what I was gonna do before I did it? //
He himself hadn't known whether he was going to do it or not. He'd
stayed awake long hours wrestling with his conscience. But McCormick
had known. Had known him better than he had known himself. Such
insight, and compassion. The glimpse of the unique qualities in
McCormick's personality awed Hardcastle just a little, and he flung
the basketball at the hoop to dissipate his tension. It flew wide.
To his chagrin, Hardcastle could feel himself beginning to really
like the kid.
//It wasn't supposed to be like this! He was supposed to be someone I
just worked with! Someone I could help fix his life! Not this kind
of - He shot another basket, missed again. I can't let myself start
liking him as a person. I'll lose my distance. And if he fucks up, if
he doesn't work out, if I have to send him back to the slammer
again, how'm I gonna handle that if I let myself like him? //
//Simple solution. I just can't let myself grow to like him. No
way. // He lined up for another shot, missed again. He didn't see
McCormick walking to the court till the younger man was almost on top
of him.
"Hiya, Hardcase. Burning the midnight oil, I see. This how you
prepare for all these heavy cases we're supposed to be handlin'?"
(Noticed you couldn't sleep. You okay?)
"Argh!" Hardcastle spun round to see the object of his reflections
coming towards him. "You scared me half to death, McCormick!" (What
are you doing here?)
"Aw gee, don't tell me the big, bad judge is afraid of the dark!
Scared of things that go `bump' in the night.' (Same as you. You tell
me.)
"I'm not scared of things that go `bump' in the night, kid, but if
you're gonna insist on sneaking up on me in the middle of the night
when you should be sleeping like any normal human." (I asked first.)
"Like a certain judge I know?" (You're the one who looks upset.)
"Don't push it, kid." (I need my space.)
"Wanna let a pro show you how to handle that ball?" (A little
company'll stop you brooding.)
"Hah! A pro! I was shooting baskets before you were born!" (I'm not
sure I want company.)
"Which means your technique is antique." (You need it,
though.) "You've missed your last three shots." (I can tell you're
disturbed.)
"You been spying on me, kid?" (I'm not used to this. I can handle it
alone.)
"How else to scope out the enemy?" (I think you've been through a lot
of painful memories in the past twenty-four hours. It's showing. I'm
a bit worried about you.)
"Hah!" (I don't know how to handle this touchy-feely stuff. Just let
it go.)
"You're chicken. Scared I'll beat you." (If you won't talk about your
feelings, I'm at least gonna keep you company whether you like it or
not.)
"Never. Gimme the ball." (Just as long as you won't open up any mushy
kind of talk.)
"First twenty-one wins." (Deal. I just wanna make sure you're okay.)
As Hardcastle lined up for the first shot, he wondered briefly just
what he was getting himself into. He'd heard what McCormick was
saying between the lines as clearly as if he'd said it out loud. It
unnerved him. He'd never had this kind of rapport with anyone before,
not even with women. Still, the kid didn't presume on his space, was
respectful where it mattered, and - although it stuck in his craw to
admit it - promised to be one hell of a guy.
He flicked a glance at McCormick, standing ready to block his shot.
Okay, kid. You'll do.
As Hardcastle lined up for the first shot, McCormick wondered
briefly just what he was getting himself into. He'd heard what the
Judge was saying between the lines as clearly as if he'd said it out
loud. It unnerved him. He'd never had this kind of rapport with
anyone before, not even with women. Still, the Judge was a far cry
from the soulless hard-ass he'd imagined, and - although it stuck in
his craw to admit it - promised to be one hell of a guy.
He flicked a glance at Hardcastle, standing ready to shoot.
Okay, Judge. You'll do.
**The End**
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