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.

Rating: K+

Feedback: Comments welcome at trekfantoo@yahoo.com

Author's Notes: A response to the story starter over at the forum. Referenced episode is Flying Down to Rio.

Many thanks to Owl, not only for being amazingly speedy, but even more amazingly for finding every single spot that was niggling at my brain but I coudn't seem to fix.

"You know . . . there's nothing as tempting as a locked door."

Milton Hardcastle rolled his eyes. "I'll remind you of that when you find yourself spending twenty hours a day behind one."

The grin on the young face didn't fade much. "Don't worry, Hardcase; I'm learning to control my temptations."

"Glad to hear it," the judge said, as he pulled the other man away from the house. "Because it's too late for me to go findin' any kind of replacement for you now."

"I doubt it," McCormick answered lightly. "I wasn't the first name on your list, and I probably wasn't the last. You'd manage."

"Nah, I got rid of that list a long time ago."

There had been nothing unusual about the remark, just another typical off-hand comment, no different than a hundred others Hardcastle threw out every day. And still McCormick found himself frozen in place, unable to climb into the cab of the truck, as the words spun in his mind.

"Well, what're you waitin' on, McCormick?" Hardcastle growled from the passenger seat. He looked out at the young man, still standing unmoving at the driver's side door. "What's the problem?"

"Oh." McCormick pulled himself out of his trance and hustled into the truck. "Sorry," he said, "nothin'." He glanced over at the judge as he started up the engine and pulled onto the street. "So we're goin' to see Frank?"

"What?"

"Well, we still need to get in there," he jerked his head back in the direction they'd come, "and if you're not gonna let me go in, that only leaves a warrant. You could go straight to some judge crony of yours, but if it's gotta be official, you don't want to leave the police completely out of the loop. After all, it's their beat, and you're just the retired concerned citizen trying to help out. That means we gotta go talk to Frank."

Hardcastle smiled. "You're learnin', kiddo, you're learnin'."

"Tell me again what it is you think you're gonna find inside?" Harper asked. Then he smiled slightly.

"Don't give me that 'here we go again' look, Milt. If you're gonna insist on running these investigations on your own, you gotta be prepared to bring me up to speed when you ask me to jump in the middle of 'em."

"He's got you there, Hardcase," McCormick grinned playfully. "You're so used to barking orders at me, you just get to thinkin' everyone's at your command."

"Trust me, kiddo; nothin' about your behavior would make me think anyone was at my command."

"Ah, Miguel Espinoza?" Harper interrupted before the exchange could continue.

"Right," Hardcastle answered, back on track. "We've been talking to this kid-one of his runners. Kid's name is Toby Rowe, and he's been working with Espinoza for about six months now. He got scared yesterday when he overheard what he thought was an order to take out some guy named David Roberts.

"Now, turns out Roberts is a reporter, and those who know him say he's been making some cryptic remarks lately about a Councilman who seems to be making a little extra money on a drug dealer's payroll."

"Espinoza."

"Got it in one," the judge said to Harper.

"'Those who know him'?" the detective repeated. "Roberts has disappeared?"

"Looks like," Hardcastle replied.

"Then why hasn't his place already been searched as part of that investigation?"

"Problem is, he works freelance, and apparently he's something of a free spirit. Nobody seems all that concerned with the idea that he's dropped out of sight. Especially when he's working."

"So no one's reported him missing."

"Well," Mark chimed in, "seems like that'd be sorta on par with someone reporting an assault every time I get banged up while I'm working."

"You're not helping," Hardcastle muttered with a quick whack to the young man's arm.

"See?"

"And you think you're gonna find evidence to tie Espinoza to the disappearance?" Harper went on, accustomed to the squabbling.

"Maybe even something about the rumored Councilman, you never know. It's gotta be worth a look."

The detective nodded. "And this Rowe kid, what's he got to give us?"

Hardcastle shrugged. "Just small-time stuff; he's been a bag boy, so he knows-"

"Judge!"

Ignoring the interruption, Hardcastle went on, "He knows who's paying for protection, who's running numbers in their back rooms-"

"Judge, you told Toby he wouldn't have to be involved if he-"

"He knows less about the drug trade, but he knows a little, and-"

"Hardcastle!"

"McCormick!"

"Gentlemen!"

Two sets of blue eyes turned their glares toward Harper. He waited a few seconds, then jabbed a finger toward McCormick. "Mark, you first."

McCormick took a breath. "This kid, Toby, he's got a cousin in one of those groups of delinquents Hardcase is always trying to straighten out. This morning we found him out on the patio, tired, hungry, and scared to death. He's been hidin' out since he overheard the conversation with Espinoza because he thinks the guy's gonna try and take him out, too.

"Now, he tells us from the beginning that he'll tell us anything we want to know, but he's not gonna get involved beyond that. He figures he'll lay low for a while until it's at least safe to move around, and then he's gonna pack up and move on. And the Lone Ranger over there promised him he wouldn't drag him into it."

"I didn't promise him anything!" Hardcastle objected loudly.

Harper shook his head slowly. "Okay, Milt, I guess it's your turn."

"Well, McCormick's right about most of it, only I never told the kid he wouldn't have to be involved. He answered my questions; he understood he was responsible for his actions, and he knows he's never gonna be safe while Espinoza is around."

"Which is why he was gonna leave town," McCormick pointed out.

"He's barely sixteen, McCormick, you really think takin' off on his own is the best thing for him?"

"I think it's better than endin' up dead at the hands of a drug dealer," McCormick shot back. "Besides, he trusted you."

"What-exactly-did you say to the kid, Milt?" Harper asked, trying to get to the root of the problem.

"I just told him I'd try; that maybe we could do it without his testimony."

"He's a kid, Judge. When you start waving your judicial power in someone's face, and talking about people you know and how good you are at making things happen, they believe you. When you said you'd try, Toby thought you'd do it. And now you're not even trying. Frank says 'what's he got?', and you just start handing him over on a platter. He's scared. He doesn't want to do this."

Hardcastle looked at the sincerity on the face of his young friend, then sighed slightly. "All right, but what if we can't? What if he could put Espinoza behind bars?"

But McCormick just shook his head. "You know better than that, Hardcastle. There's no way what he overheard is enough to convict if we don't find Roberts, and if we do, then there'll be other evidence. And beyond that, Toby is strictly small-time. If we can't make the case for this Roberts deal, you take Toby's information and you build an investigation and then you find the bigger guys who actually have something to say that'll put the boss in jail. You can't make it work with just the hired help, and you know that."

The judge nodded slowly, on the verge of full capitulation. And, seeing the expression, Harper spoke up quickly before Hardcastle could change his mind.

"Okay, then let's see if we can push a warrant through, and see what we find out from that angle."

McCormick glanced over at Hardcastle, waiting for the older man to object, then smiled as the judge simply nodded his head.

"You know, stakeouts are never fun. But guarding an empty house, that we're pretty sure no one's going to come to, on the outside chance that the bad guys will show up and try to steal evidence that we don't even know exists, well, that pretty much takes the cake."

"Quit your whining, kid," Hardcastle instructed gruffly. "It's only been a few hours."

"Exactly my point. A few hours is a long time when someone's supposed to be rushing through a warrant. Honestly, Judge, I could be in and out in five minutes, ten tops. If there's anything worth guarding, we'll hang around, but if not, we can quit wastin' our time."

Hardcastle turned a steady glare on the other man. "No."

"But-"

"No."

"But, Judge-"

"Dammit, McCormick, can you not-just for once-think about doing things the right way?"

McCormick sighed and bit back any more objections. "Okay." He settled back into his seat without another word.

The silence had stretched for a while, when McCormick said, "Can I ask you something?"

The question was unusual. McCormick never was one for standing on ceremony; he just opened his mouth and blurted out whatever was on his mind. But, still, how bad could it be?

"Sure."

"There really is a list, isn't there? Of cons, I mean."

Hardcastle tried, but he couldn't figure that one out, so he asked, "What the hell are you talking about, McCormick?"

Mark smiled slightly, but seemed uneasy. "Possible sidekicks," he explained. "You had J.J. Beale in your number one slot, and then me, but there were others, too, weren't there?"

The judge's gaze got a little more intense. "So?" he asked warily.

"So . . . nothin', I guess," McCormick said, managing a shrug. "I was just wondering. I guess." He stopped.

Hardcastle was beginning to think he was going to let it go, when the young man finally added, "I guess maybe I was just wondering how close you've come to moving on to number three."

"Probably not as close as I should've," Hardcastle snapped.

"Probably not," McCormick agreed with a small sigh.

The judge looked at the other man, who sat rigidly, staring straight ahead through the windshield, face set, giving nothing away, and he had to fight back his own sigh. One of these days he'd learn to recognize McCormick's warning signs before he stumbled into these moments when a snappy comeback was clearly the wrong thing. He considered his next words more carefully.

"On the other hand, they'd probably all be tempted by locked doors."

McCormick almost smiled at that, but he seemed too preoccupied with his earlier thought to relax. "You don't know that," he objected.

Hardcastle smirked. "They were on the list for a reason, kiddo. Anyway, at least I know you don't always give in to your temptations."

Mark did smile a little then. "No, not always," he agreed. He settled a bit more comfortably into the seat.

"Besides, I told you; I got rid of that list a long time ago."

McCormick snorted and shook his head. "A long time ago. Hardcase, I haven't even been around six months yet."

"Really?" Hardcastle shot an evil grin. "Seems longer."

"Is that so?" McCormick demanded with a laugh. "Cuz it's not like time flies living with the world's biggest donkey, either, ya know. In fact, I-"

"Oh, good," Hardcastle interrupted as he opened his door, "Frank's here." And he climbed out of the truck, leaving McCormick chuckling ruefully behind him.

As it worked out, they let Mark open the door after all. Better than kicking it in, Harper reasoned, and at least as quick. McCormick had grinned as he pushed the door back and allowed the others inside, then offered to go along on all the warrant searches and perform his particular talent. But that was as exciting as things got.

Five minutes into the search, David Roberts came strolling into his front room. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded.

"You Roberts?" Harper asked, as he turned to face the newcomer.

"Depends who's asking."

Recognizing it was going to be a while, McCormick made himself comfortable on the couch as the detective produced his badge and warrant. Then, as Harper proceeded to explain all about the local drug lord with a vendetta, it became clear the reporter was very glad he'd spent the weekend holed up down at Venice Beach with a cute beach baby.

By the time all the talking was done, Roberts had produced his evidence about Espinoza and the Councilman, more warrants had been issued, and both Roberts and Toby had been taken into protective custody until Espinoza could be safely confined.

The judge said goodbye and hung up the phone, then settled back into the peaceful silence. They were sitting on the patio, beer bottles in hand, trying to decide if they even had the energy to call out for pizza. They had already decided they might prefer flying bullets and car chases to the drudgery of stakeouts and official statements.

Hardcastle looked over at the solemn expression on his friend's face. "Toby's gonna be fine," he said reassuringly.

"Yeah, I know," McCormick answered slowly. "It's just been a long day." He shook his head, then glanced at the older man. "You do know that I spend more time in the police station since I met you than I ever did before, right?"

The judge grinned. "Gotta be more comfortable without the cuffs."

"True enough," Mark conceded.

"And anyway, everything's working out. Frank says they've already got Councilman Willaby in custody, and he's got a lot to say. Seems he's gotten the idea he's not getting away clean, so he's trying to make sure he ends up in a nice white-collar ranch. So Espinoza will be going away for a long time.

"Roberts has already sold his story to the Times; they should be able to run it in the overnight edition, as long as they get Espinoza in custody by then.

"And, like I said, Toby's gonna be fine. He's not gonna have to leave his home and go into hiding; and now that he's not gonna be working for Espinoza anymore, he'll have a chance to make some better choices.

"All in all, I think we did a pretty good job today." He winked at McCormick. "And you even got to open your door. See? Everything's good."

McCormick chuckled slightly. "Yeah." But then he lapsed back into silence.

Hardcastle took a drink of beer, and discreetly cast a sideways glance toward the other chair. He's still thinking about that damn list, he thought. The kid worries way too much.

He lowered the bottle and thought for a moment before speaking, then began slowly. "Well, it might not've been a long time ago, but it was a couple of months or so."

McCormick cocked an eyebrow.

"When I got rid of the list," the judge clarified.

"Really?"

"It was after we got back from Rio; that's when I knew for sure." He waited a few seconds, but McCormick didn't speak. He turned his head, and found the other man staring back, his eyes wide with disbelief. "What?" Hardcastle demanded.

"Rio?" McCormick's voice was a strangled cry. "You ditched the list after Rio?"

"Yeah, so?" Hardcastle was already beginning to regret offering the information.

"Ju-udge," Mark began plaintively, "after we left Rio, all you did for days was ride my ass for taking the law into my own hands."

"Well, it was a damned stupid stunt!" Hardcastle grouched. "And you could've gotten yourself killed. Not to mention Aggie."

McCormick pulled a hand through his hair, and turned a confused gaze back to Hardcastle. "I'm not even denying that. I'm just trying to understand how we get from that to you deciding there doesn't need to be a Tonto number three."

"Oh, well . . ." Hardcastle shifted uncomfortably. He rubbed a hand across his own head, pulled in a breath, and tried to explain.

"You never apologized," he began. "No matter how much I ranted or threatened, you never said, 'Okay, I won't do it again'. I think the closest you ever got might've been something like, 'Sorry we don't agree, Hardcase'."

"You tellin' me I earned points for being stubborn? Because I can do it again."

"Hardly. What I'm trying to tell you is that you earned points for doing what you could to help, even when it was a risk to you. I mean, if you didn't end up dead, you could've ended up in the cell right next to mine, and you did it anyway.

"And even while I was 'riding your ass' as you put it, you never backed down."

"Well, somebody had to get you out of there," Mark muttered.

Hardcastle nodded. "And that's what you kept sayin' then." He let his eyes meet McCormick's. "How many guys on that list do you think woulda done that?" He let that sink in for a moment, then shrugged.

"So, that's when I knew."

McCormick seemed to take that all in, nodding slowly. "Thanks, Judge," he finally answered with a smile. Then he laughed.

"So it's no wonder you wouldn't let me open that door; you're all out of back-ups."

Hardcastle grinned as he shook his head. "Nah, that's not it. I just figure from now on, we oughta be opening doors together."