Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dead end.

Never expected to do this, but – well, sorry, maybe you’ll even enjoy it, who knows?

Oh, this is what it looks like?

There were many things Fred Thursday had not expected when he had requested to be transferred to Oxford. He certainly could never have foreseen that he would arrest an opera star for murder, and the tiger had been a nasty surprise.

This, however, took the bloody biscuit.

“Sir?” Jakes asked, blinking at the sight in front of him. “What just happened?”

It was never a good sign when the normally unflappable sergeant was shocked, but Fred couldn’t pay attention to that now.

Instead, he found himself staring as well. He cleared his throat. “Well, what are you doing here, lad?”

There were a lot of other questions he wanted to ask – where was the bloke they had been chasing, where was Morse – but right now, there was a child huddled in a corner of the room he could have sworn he had seen Morse enter only a few moments ago.

But apart from the boy, the room was completely empty. Neither their quarry nor his bagman was anywhere to be seen.

He raised his head and Fred’s breath caught in his throat. No. Absolutely impossible.

But he’d have recognised those eyes everywhere.

Forcing himself to stay as calm as he could, he asked, “Morse? Is that you?”

Jakes gasped even as the boy nodded miserably.

For a second, Fred believed that at least, they had some form of understanding, but then Morse said, sounding close to tears, “I have no idea what I am doing here.”

“Don’t worry about –“

“Who are you?”

Oh God.

There was little they could do. Jakes stayed with Morse while Fred checked the rest of the abandoned house their suspected murderer had fled to, but it was empty as they had feared.

When he returned, Morse hadn’t moved apart from having wrapped his arms around himself. He was still wearing his suit, but naturally, it was much too big for him now.

Alright. First things first.

Fred cleared his throat again and did his best to talk to him the way he had to the children when he’d had to calm them down after a nightmare. “Look, Morse, we’re police. I’m DI Thursday – ”

He blinked at him. “Did I do something bad?”

“No.” How strange that he should –

“Gwen says if I do something bad, she’ll call the police and they’ll take me away.”

Gwen. Must be that stepmother of his.

“Yes, well, that’s not what happened here”. He did his best to sound reassuring but had the terrible feeling that he wasn’t doing that well of a job.

And then, surprisingly, Jakes stepped in. “Look, kid, there’s been an accident” he said bluntly, “And that’s why you’re here.” He reached out a hand. “We’ll sort you out. I promise.”

Apparently, his direct approach worked somewhat better than Fred’s wary one, for Morse allowed him to help him up, looking slightly puzzled at his oversized suit.

“Like I said, an accident” Jakes repeated. “Should I bring him to the car, sir?”

He had no idea why Jakes had somehow found the right way to speak to a troubled kid, but as long as they got Morse away from here… “Yes, that’d probably be for the best.”

However, when they passed him, he found himself compelled to say something else. “Morse, Jakes is right; we’ll sort you out, alright?”

He seemed to have trouble looking at him, but nodded before following Jakes out.

Alright. So his bagman had been turned back into a boy.

Now the question was what to do about it.

As it turned out, there wasn’t a lot they could do but to return to the station, Morse subdued and quiet in the backseat.

Jakes was driving, but kept glancing at him through the rear-view mirror, and Fred certainly couldn’t blame him for it.

This was… impossible, a part of him wanted to insist. Then again, if it could happen to anyone, it would be Morse.

And this was, without a doubt, the constable he’d been working so closely with in the last three years. Even now, he was sitting with hunched shoulders, his hands brought together almost as if in a praying position, as he had seen him do so often before.

It was only somewhat more heart-breaking now, watching a young boy feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders.

How old was he anyway? He decided that it would be for the best to get it over with and asked.

Morse didn’t look up as he quietly replied, “Twelve, sir.”

And Fred remembered, remembered the evening as they had sat in semi-darkness, drinking, and confided in one another –

From Morse’s perspective, his mother had just died.

He swallowed, unsure whether or not to bring it up. But doing so would maybe make Morse suspicious, and he didn’t know what to say anyway.

So he stayed silent.

When they arrived at the station he thought it best to send Strange to get Superintendent Bright – he didn’t feel comfortable just whisking Morse into his office, and he could hardly expect his superior officer to believe what had taken place without seeing the proof in front of him.

Strange complied, his eyes as wide as saucers, and Fred automatically pointed Morse to his accustomed desk. “Sit down, lad.”

He complied, still eerily silent.

Fred stood in front of the desk (only later realizing that he was rather towering over Morse, probably making him feel uncomfortable) when the boy began, “May I ask a question, sir?”

“Of course.” Fred made a spur-of-the-moment decision. “And there’s no reason to call me sir, Morse”.

Yes, he was technically his bagman, but right now, he also happened to be a frightened boy who would probably trust him more easily if he didn’t put that barrier between them.

Morse finally looked at him, then nodded before asking, “The – the other policeman –“

“Sergeant Jakes.”

“Sergeant Jakes said there had been an accident. What kind of accident?” For a moment, he looked horrified. “Is little Joycie okay?”

Good God. Little Joycie was over a decade older than him right now, and from a few throwaway comments, Fred was rather certain was studying to be a teacher. “Your sister’s fine.”

Morse glanced at him once more, now with a suspicious crease between his eyebrows, and he realized he’d given himself away. “We’ve met before” he told him.

“I don’t remember.”

“That’d be the accident.”

“Yes. What happened?” he repeated.

“We don’t know that for sure. As soon as we do, we’ll tell you.” Even though they’d probably risk overwhelming the lad. But this was still Morse, and if they didn’t let him know, he’d probably go and find out on his own.

Morse nodded and looked back down on his hands.

Fred had an idea. “Would you like to do today’s crosswords puzzle?” He himself rarely bothered to even try, so he could easily give him his paper.

It was the first time since… this had happened that Morse had even come close to smiling.

Superintendent Bright arrived after Morse had already gotten lost in the clues, which was probably a good thing, since the normally unflappable man’s mouth fell partially open as he took him in. Recovering quickly, however, he asked under his breath, “Thursday, what’s going on?”

“We don’t know at the moment, sir” he replied in the same hushed tone so not to disturb Morse. “The one thing I do know is that this is most certainly Morse – only twelve years old; he doesn’t remember anything that happened after that.”

“Is that certain?”

“He didn’t recognise me or Jakes, and he believes that his sister is still a baby.”

Bright hummed. “Good God, Thursday, every time I believe nothing can surprise me, something bizarre like this happens.”

He could only agree, but felt it wouldn’t help much. Before he could come up with an answer, there was intake of breath and the clutter of a chair falling down as Morse jumped up from his seat.

When he turned around, the boy’s face was white, and he was staring at the paper. “Why does this say 1967?”

Bloody hell. He hadn’t thought of that. “Look, Morse –“

“Why does this say 1967?”

What was he supposed to say to a boy who was clearly in shock?

Thankfully, WPC Trewlove, who up until this point had been quietly observing the scene in front of her, intervened. “It’s all rather complicated, I am afraid” she told him as friendly as she could, “And I know it’s scary, Morse. How about we go somewhere you can calm down for a bit?”

He looked at her with wide eyes but eventually nodded.

Fred stepped up to them and quietly told her, “Best take one of the interrogation rooms.”

She seemed somewhat sceptical but complied.

“I’m sorry, sir. I thought he might enjoy the crosswords puzzle. Completely slipped my mind that he would be able to see the date.”

Bright waved a hand in the air. “Yes, yes, quite understandable with everything that’s going on. First things first, though – Constable Morse” despite everything, Fred had to fight back a laugh; after all, he was still talking about a twelve-year-old “Needs proper clothing, and of course there’s the question of accommodation…”

Yes, it would probably not have been a good idea to leave him in his small, dingy flat. But where –

And all of a sudden, Fred knew the answer. “I have an idea, sir.”

“You put a twelve-year-old who, from his perspective, just lost his mum, in an interrogation room because he got scared!?”

When she put it like that, it indeed didn’t sound like the most ideal of circumstances. “WPC Trewlove is with him”.

Win huffed. “Well, we’ll see. First of all, we have to deal with the basics. You said he needed clothes? What seize does he have?”

Since Win had always been in charge of clothing the children (and, to be honest, ever since their wedding, Fred himself as well) he had no idea but did his best to tell her how tall he considered Morse to be.

“I’ll bring some of Sam’s old clothes; sounds like they might be a bit too big for him as well, but that’s easily fixed. He’s staying with us, naturally – from what you told me, I don’t think it’d be a good idea to send him to his stepmother, and his sister must be busy, the poor thing.”

Until now, he hadn’t even raised the possibility that Morse stay with them; Win had once more anticipated him. “I thought it would be the best thing for him as well, pet.”

“Then that’s decided. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

And she hung up without saying goodbye.

True to her word, she appeared at the station thirty minutes later, thirty minutes they, Fred was afraid, had rather spent meandering around and trying to wrap their heads around what had happened rather than figuring out how to deal with Morse and how to change him back.

“Where is he?” were Win’s first words.

“Interrogation room two.” Before she could object once more, he added, “I checked, and WPC Trewlove left the door open.”

She nodded. “Take me there, love.”

He didn’t know what was going on. He knew (his lips trembled at the thought, as always, even though it had already been three months) that Mum was gone and that he had been sent to live with Dad and Gwen; that he had a baby sister; and that he’d been about to leave for school when – when –

When he’d suddenly been in that big empty house with two policemen.

Maybe they had lied to him and he’d done something bad after all? But WPC Trewlove had been nice, she’d given him a cup of tea and even brought the crosswords puzzle with her, and he didn’t think the police did that when criminals were involved…

He only raised his head from the newspaper when a kind voice gently said, “Hello, dear.”

Chapter Text

Fred and her had been through much together in their twenty-seven years of marriage, but Win could easily admit that she never would have expected something like this. Morse, the nice young bagman who was so loyal to her husband – suddenly twelve years old again, with no knowledge of ever having been older; and right now, surrounded by strangers in a police station.

That poor boy. She hurried to pack everything she needed and went to Cowley station as fast as she could.

When she and Fred arrived at the interrogation room, her heart went out to Morse, sitting there in his man-sized clothes, focusing on solving the crossword so that anything would make sense again.

“Hello, dear” she said because it was the only thing she could think of.

When he raised his head, obviously not recognizing her either, she smiled and stepped forward. “I’m Win Thursday, Fred’s wife.” She nodded towards her husband so Morse would know who she was talking about. “I’ve brought you a few clothes, and something to eat.”

“That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Thursday.”

“It’s Win” she told him, first of all handing him the sandwich she’d made immediately after hanging up the phone. If there was one thing she knew she could always count on, it was a growing boy’s appetite; even if he didn’t feel hungry now, he’d devour it soon enough, like Sam at that age. “And here are some clothes for you. Now, I’ll be just outside, alright? Just call out if you have a problem, or when you’re finished.”

He nodded as he accepted the clothes, and the three adults left the room.

“How’s he been holding up?” she asked WPC Trewlove.

“As well as could be expected, Mrs. Thursday. He’s still rather confused, and a little scared because he noticed the date.”

Anyone would be. “I’ll see to it that he calms down and has his sandwich” she told Fred, “And then I’m taking him home.”

“That might be for the best” he agreed.

She lowered her voice. “And do you have any idea what happened?”

“None so far. It must have to do with our suspect, but other than that…”

“You’ll figure it out” she said confidently. “And until then, Morse has a home with us.”

No matter how long it took, she wouldn’t send him to that loveless place again. She remembered too well what Fred had told her – about the day Morse’s father had died, and how lost he had looked, then.

But it had been his choice not to reach out to them, and they had respected it. As a young boy, though, lost in time, with no one to turn to…

It was their duty to look after him, now.

“Oy, pet” Fred agreed, although he looked troubled. “It’s just that with everything –“

“Oh, we’ll have to get used to things, of course, but –“

She was interrupted by a quiet, “Mrs. Thursday?” and turned around to find Morse in Sam’s old clothes. As she had suspected, the sleeves were rather too long, but he’d already rolled them up –

Really, seeing him taking such care of his appearance when she remembered him looking a bit disheveled on quite a few mornings, she couldn’t help but reach out and brush a lock of hair off his forehead. “See, dear, I know they’d fit. Now why don’t we chat for a bit?”

He seemed a little alarmed at that, but raised no objection as she led him back to the interrogation room, being careful to leave the door still open and moving the chair across the desk so they were sitting next to each other. To her delight, he unpacked the sandwich and began to eat. “I know this is very confusing, Morse.”

“I – I don’t know what happened, and no one will tell me.”

“That’s because we don’t know either. Otherwise, Fred would have let you know.”

He looked somewhat sceptical and she was reminded that her husband’s manners didn’t easily endear him to children who weren’t their own. She reached out and squeezed his forearm. “He’ll fix this, you’ll see. And until then, you can stay with us.”

He looked at her, then swallowed. “Can I see Joyce?” Then, before she could react, he continued, “But she’s not a baby anymore, is she. I… why is it 1967?”

Wasn’t that the question. Sometimes Win herself wondered where the time had gone, but this was not the place for such a discussion. “Let’s start at the beginning. Did anyone tell you why you were there?”

He shook his head and he sighed. Fred, for all his competency as a policeman, tended to overlook what was right in front of him; and since he trusted Morse explicitly, he’d simply assumed that this trust would also translate into whatever relationship he was supposed to have with this twelve-year-old. “The first thing you have to know is that, yes, it’s 1967, and you’re actually in your thirties now.”

His brows furrowed, and she hastened to continue, “We don’t know how or why you were turned back to being twelve. But my point is, you’re in your thirties now, and you’re Fred’s bagman.”

“I’m a policeman?” he asked, obviously contemplating the information before adding, “I never thought about becoming a policeman.”

“Yes you are, and one of the best detectives he’s ever worked with, according to Fred.” She left out the part where he had often lamented that Morse apparently didn’t care for ordinary policework. There were some things not meant for young ears. “You were actually working a case.”

“So I’m not under arrest?”

Again, she couldn’t help but blame her husband and the rest of Morse’s co-workers just a little.

“But then, WPC Trewlove didn’t say I was, so I figured I couldn’t be.”

Win had always liked the young woman. “No. They simply… well, no one really knew what to do so they brought you here.”

“And now I’m to go home with you?”

“If you want to”. In truth, she would have taken him with her either way, but it was important that he came to trust them. It might have been a little manipulative, but this was a child needing her help, and Win would do anything to make it happen.

“I – I won’t be in the way?”

And, suddenly and very clearly, Win understood that the home Morse’s father and stepmother had provided him with had been even worse than she had feared. To think that anyone would look at a newly motherless child and tell them they were in the way…

She fought down her anger and replied, “No, dear, of course not. Our two children are all grown up.”

He bit his lip. “And – what happens then?”

In truth, she had no idea, but that was not what he needed to hear right now. “Fred and the others will be working the case; they’ll have you back to – “ she almost said normal then realized that for him, he was normal right now. “They’ll fix everything. Are you ready to go?”

He nodded.

Knowing this was about as enthusiastic a response as she could expect, she got up as soon as he’d finished eating and smiled as she put the clothes he hadn’t chosen back into her basket. “Let’s go then.”

Fred realized his mistake as soon as Win and Morse entered the squad room.

He knew he could be somewhat rough around the edges, that his demeanour didn’t always endear him easily to people; but he had forgotten that his own children had long been used to his manners, and so had not thought to make sure Morse was comfortable with him.

He understood that had been the wrong thing to do now, as he watched the lad huddle close to Win, clearly drawing comfort from her.

With a simple smile and a few soothing words, Win had immediately become the less awe-inspiring of the two.

Careful not to be too intimidating, he stepped up to them. “Everything alright, pet?”

Win nodded. “Yes; do you think we could –“

“I can drive them, sir” Jim Strange immediately offered. It was probably for the best – Fred and Jakes had been there when Morse had been changed, and he clearly still felt a little shy in their presence; yes, Jim Strange was probably the right pick.

“I’ll call you when we’re home” Win said quietly, reaching out to automatically straighten Morse’s collar.

The lad actually blushed.

He nodded at them and watched them walk away.

Well, then. There was little to do but to focus on the case.

Morse watched the city pass by at through the car’s windows. Eventually, her unspoken question what he was thinking was answered when he announced, “I’ve never been to Oxford before.”

It was such a strange thing to hear from someone Win knew had been reading Greats at university before his life had taken an unexpected turn, that much Fred had told her. But that was not a topic she considered safe for a child, so she instead replied, “Me and Fred moved here soon after the war, with the kiddies.”

He turned his head to look at her.

“Joan’s twenty-six and Sam’s twenty-two” she continued. “Sam just finished a stint in the army; he’s now working as a secretary. Joan’s working in a bank.”

He nodded again.

Feeling that he might be more talkative if she changed the subject she then asked, “What do you like to do, Morse?”

While she wasn’t in the least surprised, she did his best to react encouragingly when he explained, “I really love to read, and to do crosswords puzzles. It’s just as well, really, Mrs. Thursday, Gwen doesn’t like it when I make too much noise”.

Or any noise at all, Win was ready to bet. No mention of opera yet, she noted; that particular passion must have come to him a little later in life. “We have quite a few books at the house. You’re welcome to read them.”

“I wouldn’t want to…” he trailed off and she wondered just how dismissively his stepmother had treated him.

“It will be fine” she assured him. “Why don’t we have a cup of tea when we get home?”

He nodded, smiling ever so slightly, gratitude in his eyes.

God, what an adorable boy, although she was careful not to tell him. He was twelve after all; when Joan had been around the same age, one of Aunt Reenie’s friends had made the mistake of guessing her to be “about ten” and she’d spent the rest of the afternoon sulking.

And so, she allowed a comfortable silence to settle between them until they reached their home.

“Thank you, Sergeant” she told Jim Strange as they exited the car.

“It’s no trouble, Mrs. Thursday” he told her, his eyes never leaving his colleague, who had already gotten oust and was now studying the house.

She quickly stepped up to him, rather surprised when he offered to carry her basket, apologizing that he had failed to do so previously.

What a well-raised young lad. She firmly but gently told him that it was alright, and to take place at the kitchen table while she made the tea.

He had clearly been thinking during the drive, for as she poured their drinks, he asked in a voice so low she had trouble hearing him, “What happens if I stay this way?”

She thought about it for a second. “Well, you’ll have to grow up all over again, I suppose.”

He looked at her then and she realized this wasn’t what he had in mind. “There is no reason to think this is permanent, though. You really can stay with us for the time being.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose on you.”

She wondered if the way he talked had to do with some part of himself remembered that he was actually an adult, or if he had always been well-spoken, even at twelve years old. Probably the later. “You aren’t, and you won’t be, Morse, I can promise you that.” She put the tea in front of him. “Now, I’m sure I have a few biscuits here somewhere…”

Chapter Text

“Frank Henderson” Fred said as he put the file on Morse’s desk.

His bagman looked at him and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Old customer. From small thefts to embezzlement – he’s tried it all. Seems he’s now moved on to robberies.”

Morse frowned. “But we’re not –“

“We don’t have a case right now, and he’s gone too far this time” Fred interrupted him, already sure what his objection would be. “So it’s our responsibility to catch him.”

Fred tried and tried, but at the end of the afternoon, he had to concede one simple fact:

The case was still as straightforward as it had appeared to be before Morse had been turned into a boy again.

There had been a string of robberies, and since the last victim had been badly injured, the case had been transferred to Cowley CID. Since he and Morse hadn’t had a case at the time, it had almost automatically fallen to them to catch the culprit. To think that, if Henderson hadn’t harmed that old lady, none of this would have happened…

Frank Henderson had been a thorn in the police’s side since before Fred had been transferred to Oxford, and age certainly hadn’t slowed him down. His crimes went from small thefts to embezzlement, but he had never physically hurt anyone. Until now.

But no matter what they tried, they couldn’t find him. They had their informants, of course, but whenever they heard that Henderson was at one of his usual haunts or at any other plea in the city and they closed in, he was nowhere to be found. Not only that – but always did they find plenty of people who were ready to swear they had seen him walking around openly before their arrival and yet all claimed that he had then suddenly disappeared.

“Sir” Jakes said, lighting a cigarette “I know it sounds rather impossible, but –“

“My wife just called me to let me know that she and my as of now twelve-year-old bagman just had tea, and that she’s about to show him some books so he can entertain himself. Impossible doesn’t seem as far-fecthed as it did this morning.”

Jakes seemed to agree with that, for he said, “Could this be an explanation for us not finding Henderson?”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is, we were looking for an old bloke” Fred idly wondered if he should interject that Henderson was, indeed, two years younger than he himself, but didn’t “and if we saw a young boy walking away…”

That would explain it indeed, but – “First of all, not only would he have to be able to… de-age himself, he’d have to know how to reverse the… process. And then, he would have to remember it in the first place, and Morse doesn’t remember being an adult.”

“Maybe there are different ways?” WPC Trewlove suggested. “He would have been tyring to get away, and it would have done him no good if Morse remember what was going on.”

That was true, of course.

Problem was…

“So if you’re right, our only way to get Morse back to normal is to find a man who can disguise himself as a child or a much younger man whenever he wants to?”

He looked from one to the other of his colleagues, and saw the same worried expression that must have been showing on his own face.

Doctor DeBryn arrived at the squad room sometime later, having been informed of what had taken place but having chosen not to see Morse, instead taking their word for it and starting to call around his colleagues.

“Apparently there have been some rumours of experiments been flying around, but since it seemed too incredible, no one paid much attention to it – and I assure you, Inspector, anyone who can do this would at vey least need a  medical degree.”

“So it’s probably not Henderson who came up with it.”

He shook his head then continued, “But it is clear that any such technique would be much sought after. Just look at the possibilities.”

“So there’d be a lot of potential money involved.”

“It might be – it’s just a conjecture at this point, of course, Inspector, but maybe this Henderson was the first person this was tried on. Any medical man would need a trial –“

“And as payment, he gets all the material he needs to turn himself younger whenever he wants to” Fred finished. “Yes, that sounds plausible.”

DeBry nodded, then finally with obvious hesitation brought the topic back to Morse. “Of course, the interest in any subject who had been made younger would be highly –“

“He’s with us or the time being” Fred interrupted him. He knew that perhaps, with patience, a doctor would be able to figure out how to turn Morse back; but until then, there’d be so much prodding and testing and whatnot, and right now, he couldn’t bear the thought of Morse being a guinea pig for any curious professional who might show up.

DeBryn looked at him, then nodded, clearly understanding his motivation. “I am certain he will be more comfortable there. Of course, if nothing else comes up…”

It was Fred’s turn to nod. “We’ll have to ask Morse, of course.”

He deserved to at least be given a choice, once he’d calmed down a bit. Just because he was currently twelve, didn’t mean he didn’t know what he wanted.

“That would probably for the best” he agreed. “I’ll keep on with my research”.

“And we’ll try to capture Henderson.”

It was all they could do.

Win had let Joan and Sam know what had happened, of course; apart from them having to know that they would have a house guest for a day or two, she didn’t want Morse to be dismayed at the obvious shock they would experience upon seeing him.

It came as no surprise to her that after hearing the news, both had declared they would try to come home as soon as possible.

Sam was the first to arrive, having apparently hurried through his work of the day. “Hey, Mum. Where is he?”

“He’s not animal in a zoo” she said somewhat indignantly.

Sam blinked at her. “Didn’t mean to sound like that. Sorry.”

“I know you didn’t’, dear” she conceded “Just be kind to him. He’s had quite a bit of a shock,.”

He nodded then skipped to the living room where Morse was reading, having chosen The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes – probably because they had told him he was a policeman.

Morse couldn’t deny that Mrs. Thursday had been very kind to him. Ever since Mum’s death, no one had really enjoyed drinking tea with him, but she had definitely given him the impression that it was so, once more asking about his hobbies and what he remembered of his schooling.

Not that he would be going to school any time soon. The teachers and classmates he remembered would be twenty years older now too; and he was rather sure that he couldn’t even get into a school right now, as his passport and other things would prove that he was too old.

He tried to concentrate on the book but couldn’t help but feel worried for the future. Mrs. Thursday had told him he could stay here, but certainly they wouldn’t keep him indefinitely? Would they eventually send him back to Gwen and Dad, if he couldn’t get big again?

Only he didn’t think he’d be of much more use there than he had been before. He’d enjoyed playing with little Joycie when Gwen had told him to look after her, but she’d be a young woman now, living her own life, and he’d be alone with Dad and Gwen…

He'd much rather stay here, where he was being given nice tea and biscuits, and Mrs. Thursday seemed to like him, but he didn’t know if he could.

His musings were interrupted by a cheerful, “Hullo, Morse.”

When he looked up he saw a young man he supposed to be the Thursdays’ son. “Hello, Mr. –“

“None of that” he interrupted him, grinning, although it was clear he was doing so out of friendliness rather because he was laughing at him. “It’s Sam.”

He let himself fall down on the sofa next to him. “Mum told me what happened. Must be quite the turn.”

“It’s… confusing” he admitted. “The last thing I remember is getting ready for school”.

Sam whistled. “And then you just got dropped into a while other life. Can’t imagine how that must be.”

There was something about his frankness that was reassuring rather than insulting and so Morse nodded.

“Come on, then.”

“Where are we going?” he asked, carefully marking the page, even though he couldn’t say that he’d really been reading.

“Well, it’s a sunny day outside – what do you think?”

He had to concede that he had no idea, and Sam laughed happily once more.

It startled him into laughing too, which was not something he’d done so far today.

It felt surprisingly good.

Win had inquired whether Morse liked stew and dumplings, and since the answer had been a shy “Yes, Mrs. Thursday”, she had decided to make some for dinner. Morse clearly needed to put on as much weight as a twelve-year-old as he had done when he’d been in his thirties.

She’d admittedly been a little worried how he and Sam would get along, but relaxed when she heard them laugh. Thankfully, Sam had always been one of those who got along well with everybody, and she knew he and Morse had been fond of each other in their own way even before this, so they should be alright.

She grew rather curious when she didn’t hear anything else though and decided to investigate. To her surprise, they were not in the living room, a mystery that was cleared up when she glanced into the garden and saw him and Sam kicking an old ball of theirs around.

Oh. She hadn’t expected this, but then Sam had always greatly enjoyed playing in the garden at springtime, and Morse probably hadn’t been able to tell him no. But then again, they both looked like they were having fun.

She hadn’t been a mother for over twenty years for nothing, and when they came back inside half an hour later, breathless and laughing (she didn’t think she had ever seen Morse so carefree) there was lemonade waiting for them.

Fred decided that, two hours after they had last spoken, it was not ebbing paranoid to call Win again.

“Hello, pet. Just checking in.”

“Oh you don’t have to worry, Fred, everything is fine.”

“Still” he insisted. “I know it can’t be easy on you or Morse –“

“Oh, Sam came home a little earlier than usual. He and Morse played football, and now they’re watching TV.”

Fred blinked. Tried to say something. Cleared his throat.

Morse and TV? As far as he remembered, he didn’t even have one in his flat.

And he very well recalled his disinterest in the World Cup last year. “I see” he finally said.

“Oh Fred, he’s such a sweet boy, it’s no trouble at all. Have you made any progress?”

“Sadly, no. We have to find the culprit, it seems. He must eb working with some doctor or another – he’s probably the trial run, really – but we don’t have anything to go on.”

“You’ll catch him, Fred; you always do. And until then, Morse is quite comfortable here.”

After he had hung up, he reflected on the word she’d used. Comfortable. It was one of the things he’d never associated with Morse – Morse, the man who was all sharp angels, who never seemed to be able to turn off that giant brain of his, who forgot to eat most of the time.

But, if anyone could make him comfortable, it would be his Win, so he wasn’t surprised.

Joan came home around her usual time, not having ben able to get away, but still before Fred. Sam and Morse had at this point decided to have a game of cards.

She didn’t say anything, simply greeted Win and went to see them. Win followed, admittedly out of curiosity.

“Well, hello there” Joan said, clearly somewhere between amused and confused “Aren’t you a cute little guy.”

Morse blushed fiercely. “Good evening, Miss Joan.”

She laughed. “That’s a new one. Well, boys, any chance I can be dealt in?”

Win knew then and there that everything would be fine.

Chapter Text

Despite Win’s assurances, Fred couldn’t help but feel nervous as he approached his front door that evening. They still had no news of Henderson, or the doctor who would help him, despite DeBryn’s best efforts; he had no idea what to tell Morse; and last but not least, he had no clue what to expect. Morse might have been an obviously clever and well-mannered boy, but he was still a boy, who felt like he had been ripped from everyone he knew and plopped right into the middle of a town he’d never been to…

Anyone would have been disoriented, he was sure of it.

As soon as he had opened the door, Win came out of the kitchen as was her wont, greeting him with a kiss. “Anything?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head as he took off his head. “We’ve got nothing. What about…” he trailed off.

“Oh, the children are busy setting the table.”

He waited for something more, but she had already hurried back to her cooking, seemingly unaware that she had simply counted Morse amongst their own.

He walked into the dining room to find a scene he would never have been able to foresee.

Joan, Sam and Morse were indeed setting the table, yet Sam had fallen back into his old habits of playing pranks and kept snatching plates either out of Morse’s hands or putting the cutlery he’d just straightened out in the wrong place.

Joan was dealing with it all with her old habit of simply ignoring it and looking as dignified as a distinguished diplomat in the midst of difficult negotiations, although no one could have mistaken that gleam of mischief in her eyes.

And Morse –

Morse.

If Fred had ever imagined this to happen, he would probably have assumed that his bagman would be rather put out by such antics, but instead, the boy in front of him was trying to hold back his laughter, both his cheeks and his eyes glowing.

He was cleary having as much fun as either Sam or Joan, and Fred couldn’t bring himself to interrupt them, so he joined Win in the kitchen.

“I wouldn’t have believed it”.

She looked up from her cooking. “Believed what?”

“Well, Morse…” he tried to adequately explain what he was thinking, then decided to simply say, “He… looks like he’s enjoying himself.”

“Because he is. Children are remarkably resilient; they adapt much faster than adults. And of course Joan and Sam have been a big help. You know Sam always wanted a little brother.”

As a matter of fact, Fred had not known that, but it made sense – someone he could prank to his heart’s content, and laugh with when Joan wasn’t available or had declared herself above all these things once again. “So you think he’s doing well?”

“Oh yes, don’t worry.”

He glanced around the kitchen. “That’s a lot of stew…”

“Of course. Morse is twelve. Remember how much Sam could put away at that age?”

Seeing as Morse was still a bit of a twig, Fred wasn’t quite so sure all of this was necessary, but didn’t say so.

As it turned out, Win had once more been right. Morse had two helpings, and very much did his best to finish a third; his wife happily served him as much as he wanted, even when he tried to protest.

Now and then, Fred could feel the lad’s eyes on him but since he didn’t know what to say to him yet, he did his best to keep the conversation light.

He had to at least attempt to explain, though, so, after dinner, as Win was clearing the table (on her own, at her insistence) he cleared his throat and said, “Morse, I think it’s time you and I had a little chat.”

To his surprise, the lad looked away and mumbled something.

“What was that?”

He obviously forced himself to look at Fred and repeated, “Can’t Sam and… and Joan stay, please, sir?”

Once more, Fred cursed his demeanour that must appear rather forbidding to Morse. “Of course they can.”

He immediately relaxed. Sam patted his shoulder, while Joan turned her head to undoubtedly hide a satisfied smile that the hatstand rule was about to be broken.

Fred took a deep breath and began. “Before you were… affected, we were chasing a robber. Name’s Frank Henderson. We think he’s been using the same technique he attacked you with to disappear whenever we got close to catching him.”

“You mean he can turn into a little boy whenever he wants?” Joan asked.

“I’m twelve” Morse exclaimed indignantly. “I’m not little.”

“I mean he can make himself younger” she immediately amended her words, giving him an understanding smile.

His cheeks turned a bright red.

“Yes, that’s what we think. We believe Morse cornered him, and he did the only thing he could to ensure he could escape, most likely out the window.”

“I don’t remember” Morse muttered, looking down at the table. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault, Morse” Sam said diplomatically. “Don’t think anyone could have foreseen that happening.”

“I agree” Joan said decidedly. “So what are you planning on doing now, Dad?”

Still addressing Morse, he said, “We’ll have to find Henderson, of course. We’re working the usual channels.”

“What channels?” Morse asked, a little confused, and he was reminded that he was not speaking to his bagman of the last three years, but rather to a displaced boy they had taken in temporarily.

“Oh, you know, informants…”

“Dad means the criminals he occasionally gives money to for information” Joan supplied gleefully and Morse looked shocked.

“Not all of them are criminals, or being wanted for something” he hastened to explain.

Morse looked at him, then nodded.

And then, he finally asked the most important question. “And this… this man… he can turn me back?”

“We know there must be a way. Otherwise, he couldn’t just jump from one age to the other.”

Morse nodded again. “What happens if you don’t catch him?”

Wasn’t that just the question. There were several things Fred could have said, but reminding himself that he was speaking to a child, he replied, “We will. It might take some time, but we will. There’s another angle we’re working on – the” suddenly remembering Morse’s necrophobia, he decided not to speak of Doctor DeBryn “one of our colleagues has suggested that there must be at least one doctor or scientists involved.”

“See, Morse” Joan said, doing her best to sound cheerful, “They’re doing everything they can.”

“Of course they are, dear” Win said returning with a plate full of biscuits. “Now, who wants tea?”

Fred wouldn’t have thought it possible after watching him put so much away at dinner, but Morse’s eyes lit up at the prospect.

After dinner, Joan, Sam and Morse returned to the living room – the former declaring there was a program she wanted to see, and the latter following them as a matter of course.

Win poured them both a drink. “How did he take it?”

“Better than I could have expected” he admitted. “Then again, maybe it hasn’t sunk in yet.”

“I think he’s handling all of it very well” she said simply. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow; he needs clothes that’ll fit, and I don’t know yet where he’ll be sleeping tonight.”

“We might have fixed everything this time tomorrow, pet…”

“That may be, but it may also not be, and Morse should be comfortable while he’s here.”

“He almost emptied the kitchen by himself” he said dryly. “I’m sure he is.”

“I told you, boys that age… and really, if he should put on a few pounds, I wouldn’t mind.”

Neither would Fred.

He checked on the children and winced in sympathy when he saw the program Joan had been watching consisted of The Rolling Stones playing their newest song; it couldn’t be easy on Mo-

Except that Morse was tapping his foot to the beat.

“You like it?” he asked into the room.

“I’ve never heard something like this before” Morse replied, his eyes still glued to the screen. “But it’s… fun.”

Fun? He had to remember that for when Morse was back to normal.

He saw him glance at his glass and warned, “Don’t even think about it.”

He grimaced in the way children often did when they smelled or tasted alcohol. “Why would I?”

The constant contrast of who he knew his bagman to be and who he was at the moment were going to give him a headache eventually.

Win followed him into the living room and smiled at the picture before her as she began, “We’ll have to figure out where you’ll sleep, Morse dear.”

“He can have my bed” Sam immediately offered.

“That’s not necessa-“ Morse was interrupted by a yawn.

Fred supposed it was only logical – he’d had quite a day.

“Nonsense. I can sleep on the sofa for a night.”

“Yes, we’ll just get you a bed tomorrow” Win immediately offered. So much for their talk in the dining room.

“You really don’t” he yawned again.

She reached out and rang her fingers through his hair. “Seems to me like you’re tired, dear. You better have an early night, and tomorrow we’ll go shopping.”

“That’s very kind –“

“It’s really nothing. Come; let me show you where everything is.”

And she led him upstairs.

The question was, Fred reflected, where they should put the bed even if they went ahead and purchased one tomorrow –

“A second bed will just about fit into your bedroom, Sam” Joan observed.

“Sure thing, if you or Dad help me carry it upstairs –“

Good to know the entire family had already decided how to proceed, even though Fred would have liked to be informed of it as well.

After she’d shown him the bathroom and handed him one of Sam’s old pyjamas, Win said, “You might want to keep the door open – just in case you need us; don’t hesitate to ask if there’s anything you want, alright, dear?”

He nodded then asked, “May I read a little before bed?”

She’d already noticed him taking the Sherlock Holmes stories with him.

“Of course, just don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t, Mrs. Thursday.”

“It’s really Win” she insisted, then surprised herself by pressing a kiss on his forehead. “Everything will be fine.”

He nodded again, this time somewhat shyly, and went into the bathroom.

By the time the rest of the family came up, Sam’s room was dark and Morse was fast asleep.

“I don’t quite know what to make of it all” Fred admitted to her in their bedroom. “The Morse I know would have rather faced the tiger all over again than listen to something like the Rolling Stones. From what I know, he doesn’t even like to watch television.”

“But he’s not the man you know, Fred” Win said simply. “He’s the boy who will one day turn into that man. When I talked to him about his hobbies” something, Fred thought ruefully, he had rather failed to do “He spoke of reading and crosswords puzzles, but not a word about opera – I think he’s not discovered it for himself yet.”

“I believe” he said, remembering some allusions Morse had made after that disaster with Rosalind Calloway “he was having a hard time at his Dad’s.”

“See? And anyway, it can’t harm him to listen to some modern music – or spend some more time with Joan and Sam.”

They’d clearly already established some form of bond. “He asked them to stay when I talked about his case.”

“He feels safe with them. That’s good.”

“But not with me.”

“You can be a bit… rough around the edges, love, and you took him to the police station... You were right, of course, but still – give it a bit of time.”

Only that Fred had little intention of doing that, since he was going to catch Henderson at the earliest opportunity.

If only he could have believed it.

Chapter Text

It was sheer luck that Win had forgotten to fill her usual glass of water and put it next to her bed; and so, she was walking to the bathroom for a drink when she heard the sniffle from Sam’s room.

A moment later, she was standing at the bed. “What is it, dear?”

“I – it’s nothing, Mrs. Thursday.”

But she’d already turned on the bedside lamp and seen the tears on his cheek. She sat down next to him. “Now, this doesn’t look like nothing to me.”

He tried to say something about feeling a little down, and upon her gently pressing him, began talking about nightmares; but when she still persevered, he finally uttered the word Mum, followed by a rather steadier stream of tears.

“Oh come here –“ she pulled him into her arms. He’d been very young when he’d lost his mother, and it was becoming more and more apparent that he’d not exactly had much help to deal with her death at his father’s.

“I’m – I’m very sorry” he finally hiccupped when he’d calmed down a bit.

“Don’t be. Now, I’ll just make us a quick cuppa, alright? Be back in a second.”

By the time she returned with the tea, he’d succeeded in cleaning up his face, although his eyes were still red and his hair all a-tumble.

He looked even younger than his current twelve years.

When she put the cup on the nightstand he asked, “Shouldn’t we go downstairs?”

“I think we can make an exception tonight” she told him as cheerfully as she could.

“I didn’t mean to – it’s just that – sometimes I think of Mum and I can’t seem to stop crying. And I know it’s been three months, that’s what Gwenn keeps telling me” (Gwen, Win thought then with an unforgiving manner that Fred would have been shocked at, was a bloody cow who should be told off) “But I just – I can’t control it.”

“It’s a good thing” she assured him. “It means you and your mum loved each other very much.”

He nodded then suddenly said, “She would have liked you.”

She beamed, knowing it must be a great compliment. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Ever since she’s been gone… there’s no one calling me Endeavour. I used not to like it, but now I kind of miss it.”

Of course he did, although he most likely missed his mother calling him by his first name, but that was a distinction a little too grown up for a grieving young boy, so Win instead offered, “I could call you Endeavour, if you wish”.

He looked at her in the semi-darkness of the room and then finally said, “I think I might like that.”

Seeing as he’d by now finished his tea, she did the same then gently suggested, “You should try and get some more sleep, dear.”

He obediently got back under the covers.

She smoothed his hair down and pressed another kiss on his forehead. “Sleep well, Endeavour.”

At first, she thought he was already dozing off and therefore hadn’t answered; but, after she’d put out the light and just as she was passing through the door, she heard him quietly breathe, “Good night, Win.”

She smiled.

Mo- Endeavour (she was determined to do as he wanted her to, so she better get into the habit) was, as it turned out, an early riser. She couldn’t say whether he’d been the same before or not, since Fred had often complained that he never seemed to go home at all if he could help it.

Win was as usual busy with breakfast when she heard soft steps on the stairs; for a second, she was surprised, then recalled that of course Mo- Endeavour would sound light coming down.

“Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you. After…” he trailed off and she smiled gently at him.

“I’m glad to hear it. Why don’t you take a cup of tea?”

He did so, then asked, “May I help you? Only I’m not that good at it – yesterday I burnt my toast a little…”

What was that stepmother of his good for? Didn’t she even give him toast? God forbid a growing boy ask for an egg in the mornings. She suppressed her indignation and instead forced herself to happily say, “Well, it’s only practice, dear. Let me show you…”

The first thing Fred did on this Friday morning was to check up on Morse, fully excepting him to still be fast asleep, as their children had been whenever they could at this time of the day; but to his surprise, he was already up, having carefully made the bed and folded the pyjamas which were now resting on the duvet.

Some habits, Fred decided, it was a pity that he’d grown out of.

And yet, an even greater surprise awaited him downstairs.

When he entered the kitchen, Win was instructing Morse. “Yes, that’s it dear, see, now the toast’s just as it should be –“

“Thank you, Win.”

“It’s no trouble, so, do you want an egg?”

“Yes, thank you”.

“Good morning, love” she then said, having spied Fred, “I’m just showing Endeavour a few of the basics.”

Win? Endeavour? When had that happened? “Good morning” he said, kissing her. “You too, Morse.”

“Good morning.”

At least he wasn’t calling him sir anymore.

He grabbed his paper. “I shall leave the crosswords for you then.”

His eyes lit up. “Thank you!”

“But first” Win put a soft-boiled egg in front of him “You have your breakfast.”

That, Fred thought as he watched him eat as ravenously as he had at dinner, was unlikely to be a problem.

If things went on like that, Win would have him up to a healthy weight in about a week.

If Joan and Sam, who joined them soon afterwards, were surprised to see Morse already up, or to hear Win call him by his first name, they didn’t show it.

Soon after he had arrived at the station, he went to see Superintendent Bright.

“Thursday” he greeted him. “How is Morse doing?”

For all that morse believed that their superior officer didn’t think much of him, Fred knew that the opposite was true. “He’s holding up, sir. Our Win’s looking after him, and the children are helping as well.”

“Good. How many people know where he is at the moment?”

Fred had a bad feeling where this was going. “Strange drove him to my house, and both WPC Trewlove and Sergeant Jakes are aware of his current whereabouts. As is Doctor DeBryn.”

“So it’s not wildly know?”

“I don’t think so.”

“That might be for the best.” He paused for a moment then continued, “Several colleges and hospitals have been calling. Apparently Doctor DeBryn’s questions raised quite a few eyebrows.”

Fred didn’t quite know how to react. On the one hand, experts might be able to help Morse; on the other, the thought of that young boy being pulled into this direction and that, subjected to all kinds of treatments…

“I assured them that, while we are currently investigating the possibility of someone using such a technique to escape justice, we do not need their help in apprehending the suspect right now, nor are we going to ignore any useful tips they might have.”

It was about as diplomatic as he could expect anyone to be, without outright lying. “I appreciate it, sir.”

His eyes softened. “Morse is one of our own, for all his… eccentricities. He deserves to be treated with respect.”

Fred thought about Win teaching him how to make toast that morning but decided against mentioning it. “I’m grateful, sir, and I’m sure Morse will be too, once…”

“Yes, well, we don’t have to put it all on him right now. It might be more than he can handle.”

There was something to be said for that. For all that Win had claimed Morse was handling things well – and he appeared to be – he still had a twelve-year-old’s mind at the moment. “That might be for the best.”

Bright nodded. “Good, then, keep me appraised.”

“Sir.”

It was, Fred thought as he strolled back to his office, probably the best outcome he could have hoped for. Morse was protected for the moment, and Win would make sure he was comfortable.

Win had meant everything she’d told Fred last night, and so she sprung into action soon after the others had left. She packed the extra two sandwiches she’d made for lunch and called out for Endeavour, who promptly appeared. “Come on dear, you need a few things.”

“I really think Sam’s clothes are enough –“

“No, no, you’ll be much more comfortable in –“

The phoner ang out; Mo – Endeavour beat her to it. “It’s Mr. Thursday, Win.”

“Thanks, dear. Why don’t you go put on your coat?” It was Sam’s old coat, of course (but wouldn’t be for much longer) yet it gave her an excuse to speak to Fred alone. When he called so soon after he’d gotten into work, there was usually a reason.

She felt nothing but indignation at hearing that Endeavour might be subjected to tests and experiments. No matter what he had been before, he was just a little boy now, and she was determined to protect him. “Fred –“

“Don’t worry, love, Superintendent Bright is on our side. I just wanted to let you know.”

“It’s for the best” she agreed “Now I know to look out for anyone who might be too curious about Endeavour. We’ll be careful.”

She should probably have known from experience that young ears tended to pick up almost everything, especially if they were being talked about.

When she went into the hallway, Endeavour was looking worried and upset. “If there – I don’t want to cause you trouble –“

“It’s not you” she said immediately, reaching out and fixing his collar automatically, “It’s those people who think they can play God.” She had an idea. “If someone asks, you’re my nephew, coming to stay with us for a bit.”

“You’d lie?”

“To keep you safe? Of course, dear.”

Endeavour nodded, and they left.

Despite Fred’s occasional complaints that Morse didn’t take care of himself or his clothing, Endeavour was a rather sharp dresser for a boy his age. He certainly knew what he liked, and could name his exact seize (a feat she had never managed when it came to Sam).

To his credit, he did try and limit how much clothing she bought, but she told him it didn’t matter; should they no longer need them, they could as well donate them to those who did.

Around midday, they had their sandwiches in the park, and Win subtly tried to get him to speak of his home. It was perhaps a bit underhanded, but she’d often felt curious about how he had grown up, and she knew Fred felt the same.

It quickly transpired that he had a lot of happy memories from his mother, and that all of that had stopped rather abruptly when he had been shipped off to his father’s. Apparently neither he nor his new wife had tried to make a grieving boy feel welcome or to comfort him.

He quite liked his baby sister, though. She reminded herself that, if this should go on, they really ought to let her know what had happened.

“Really I…” Endeavour lowered his voice as he admitted, “After the first week, I wanted to run away, Win. I just didn’t know where I should go. And I know it’s wicked, and Mum would tell me that I should honour and obey Dad, but…”

“Yes, well, some people are hard to love. I assume your father was one of them.”

Silence settled between them as she realized her mistake.

Then, Endeavour said, “Dad’s dead.”

“I –“ She didn’t know what to say.

He crumpled the paper she’d wrapped his sandwich in with his hands. “Dad’s dead, and I feel nothing. What does that make me?”

A little boy who doesn’t know how to deal with such complex issues yet, she longed to say but didn’t.

Instead, she replied, “It makes you human, that’s all it does. Now – you still need a bed.”

Chapter Text

Win was once more impressed with the resilience of children. Apparently not ready to think about it, Endeavour had simply put his father out of his head for now and was having quite a bit of fun checking out the beds.

Soon, his hair was sticking around at all angels and Win suppressed a smile. He really was a rather adorable boy.

The seller seemed to think so as well, if her amused glances were anything to go by.

Once they had found a bed, they returned home, Win telling Endeavour he could do what he wanted; perhaps unsurprisingly, he went to read some more.

Joan called sometime in the afternoon. “Mum, I’ve been thinking. You’ve got Morse’s clothes – the ones he wore before he got turned into a real boy, haven’t you?”

“Yes, love.”

“Then his keys should be in there. I figured he’d be more comfortable with his own books and whatnot.”

“That’s a great idea, Joanie.”

“And I just talked to Sam – if anyone suspects something, they’re much more likely to watch Dad or yourself, so we decided it would be for the best if we fetched his things.”

She really had clever children. “That would probably be for the best, but promise me to be careful.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry Mum, it’s just Morse’s place – although we might have to deep-clean it first, after everything Dad had to say.”

“Still” she insisted.

Joan promised and they hung up.

Apart from everything else, she felt that it would be a comfort for Endeavour to get his things. And who knew, maybe they would spark some memories? He definitely enjoyed reading as much as he had before all this, and perhaps he just needed to discover opera all over again.

Really, Win thought as she puttered about, if she had known this was a possibility, she would perhaps have believed things would turn out much more difficult than they had. But Endeavour had turned out to be such a conscientious, pleasant child (and, in many ways, more obedient than their own had ever been, and wasn’t that surprising in its own way), one who was clearly already fond of them all, and he trusted them implicitly.

Which was why they had to keep him safe until this could be resolved… one way or another.

In the end, they hadn’t had a better idea than to go to the hospital and colleges and speak to the doctors there. Granted, they had had to come up with a rather unlikely story that they had found some notes of Henderson’s as to explain their (at least as far as most they spoke to were concerned) unlikely theory, but most were sympathetic.

“This is Oxford” Professor Greer, one of the oldest dons in Lonsdale, told him. “Somewhere someone is always trying to prove a crazy and, quite frankly, impossible theory… and it’s not even as far out there as many others I have heard. One would have to be careful, of course – and I highly doubt it’d be healthy to turn rom one age to another at the drop of a hat, unscientifically speaking,”

Oh God, he hadn’t even thought of that.

“Are you alright, Inspector? You look a little pale…”

“Yes, yes, Professor, thank you, the long hours…” he cleared his throat to distract from the fact that he had been rather shocked by the suggestion that Morse might have been harmed by the process…

But then… they would have noticed, certainly? He’d played around with Joan and Sam, and Win would have known.

Even Jakes, who was accompanying him, had quickly lit a cigarette and taken a deep drag.

Fred had wondered for a while if he was truly still as hostile towards Morse as he liked to pretend. Seemed like he had an answer.

It was also the sergeant who then proceeded to ask, “If I may ask, just theoretically… what would be involved in such a process?”

Greer hummed. “It might not be as complicated as you think. If one could access the cells, rejuvenate them… there would of course be the question whether or not the mind and brain would be affected.”

“Like… suddenly being a kid again and having no memory of ever being an adult?”

Fred raised an impressed eyebrow. Just as well Jakes was asking; he might have given himself away.

“That would be a problem sergeant, and maybe one that would have to be dealt with with another component of the formula.”

That… almost made sense. If Henderson had simply rejuvenated Morse, but left out that component so he could more easily get away, it would explain quite a few things.

“Although… even then, the mind might eventually recover. The human brain is a very delicate instrument.”

So would Morse wake up one day in his twelve-year-old body but the mind of his early thirties? It sounded like a rather horrible prospect. No, if he had the choice, Fred would rather he stayed innocent for a bit longer. At least he was safe in their home.

“Either way, it would be a shock… even if it was the desired outcome. You would either end up a child with no idea how you got to where you just ended up, or an adult who had to deal with a significant smaller body and most likely a less firm grip on your emotions and thought processes.”

“So you’re saying that someone would have to… practice this?” Fred clarified.

“It would certainly make things easier. The doctor and the subject would have to be in close proximity as well, and not just to study the experiment… any doctor would not want his patient to go through something like this alone, at least not at first.”

But that was what Henderson had done to Morse, Fred thought angrily.

“But of course we’re only speaking hypothetically” Greer said smoothly and Fred sought any hints of suspicion in his face but could find none.

“Of course” he agreed.

“Well in that case…” he hesitated for a moment then added, “It’s for the best, really, since this state could be highly volatile. I cannot even say if it might last indefinitely or not.”

They bid him goodbye and left.

“Seems to me like Morse got lucky” Jakes began. “I wouldn’t want to know what he would’ve done if he knew who and what he was.”

Most likely tried to solve the bloody case without realizing he had a thin twelve-year-old’s body. “Yes, well, I’m still not sure he would agree with you.”

Jakes shrugged then replied, “He looked comfortable with Mrs. Thursday when they left together yesterday, if you don’t mind me saying, sir.”

Yes he had, and he’d effortlessly become part of the family for the evening and this morning as well.

Fred decided he probably shouldn’t dwell too much on that.

But still – so far, their day hadn’t been very productive. Some, like Professor Greer, seemed to at least consider that something like this might be possible, but really, they had all the proof they needed sitting at Fred’s home right now.

At least they’d spoken to all but three of the remaining scientists in the field by the time Fred decided he ought to get home.

“Win, there’s a cab stopping in front of the house.”

Like every twelve-year-old she had ever met, Endeavour was incredibly aware of his surroundings and always eager for news, even if he had his head buried in a book, as had appeared to be the case just a few moments ago.

Knowing it must be Joan and Sam, on their way back from his flat, she smiled and said, “You can open the door, if you want.”

His eyes lit up and he hastened to do just that. As curious as any boy on the brink of puberty, then.

“Hullo Morse.”

“Oh hello, Sam… Joan.”

She could practically hear him blush as he greeted their daughter. Well, a boyish crush never hurt anyone.

“We brought you something!”

“You didn’t have to get me anything…”

“It’s yours anyway” Joan told him while she and Sam carried the two cartons into the living room. “Thought you’d like to go through some of your things.”

“Oh.” He considered this for a moment then said quietly, “I suppose I have to live somewhere.”

Again, the way children managed to forget things they were not ready to deal with. Win almost envied him the ability. Almost.

“Didn’t know your favourites, of course, so I picked the ones who looked the most used to me.”

“That’s clever” he said, and Joan was clearly pleased at the compliment.

“Anyway, I could use a cup of tea.”

After they had all declared they’d like one as well, Joan went into the kitchen while Win stayed in the living room at her insistence.

Morse was still staring at the cartons. “Go ahead, dear” she urged him gently.

“They won’t bite” Sam said cheerfully. “Lots to read and listen to”.

The mention of books, if not LPs, finally brought Morse to carefully open the boxes.

The first thing he fished out was A Shropshire Lad.

He paused.

“What is it, Endeavour?” she finally asked quietly.

He swallowed and handed her the book.

When she opened it, the first thing she saw was a woman’s handwriting.

For my dearest Endeavour, on his 12^th birthday.

All my love, Mum.

Small wonder he had kept it.

Sam, who’d glanced at the page as well, diffused the situation. “Knew she had a smart lad, hm? I think I got another football on my 12^th.”

At least he smiled at that and continued going through the box.

After a minute or two he said, “There’s a lot of poetry.”

“Fred tells me you’re fond of quoting it whenever there’s an opportunity or it seems relevant to a  case.”

He stared at her. “But that can’t be often…”

Sam clasped his shoulder. “We’re in Oxford.”

He shrugged then continued. Win wished she knew what he was thinking, but all she could do was study his furrowed brows and worry.

Eventually he announced, “It does seem a bit… one-sided. Lots of poetry and opera.”

“Just means you know what you like. That’s good, right?”

“I don’t see how this ends with me working for the police…”

Of course. Trying to find sense where there was none to be found. She reached out once more to brush a lock off his forehead. “People are complicated, Endeavour. I know it’s not very satisfactory, but you can be a policeman who loves poetry. They’re not mutually exclusive.”

“Yes, just look at Joan” Sam chimed in. “Works at a bank and loves rock n’ roll.”

“And what’s so secretary-like about you never missing a United match?” Joan, who at this moment reappeared with their tea, asked.

“See, Endeavour?” Win suggested and he finally nodded.

Joan put the tea down then say, “There’s something else… I thought you’d like it.”

And she carefully fished a picture out of her wallet.

“Mum” he breathed, then took it as if it were a prized possession – which it of course was. For a moment, he was overcome, then he said quietly, “Thank you, Joan.”

She smiled softly and surprised him with a kiss on his forehead. “You’re very welcome, Morse.”

“You… you and Sam…” he hesitated for a second. “You can say Endeavour too. If you like.”

“Alright then. Time to get virtuous” Sam grind. “And now come on, we should make good use of the sunshine again.”

“Need a third, or is this just a boys’ game?”

“I was five when I said that” Sam pointed out, but not a minute later, they’d successfully dragged a bemused Endeavour with them.

He’d reverently placed the picture of him and his mother on the box, and Win was careful not to disturb it as she carried his possessions to his and Sam’s room. The bed would arrive tomorrow, but Sam had already agreed Endeavour could have his for as long as he needed

Fred came homer rather earlier than usual, looking slightly defeated. The children were still in the garden, and so he could tell her what he had found out – and what he hadn’t – without young ears listening in.

“You don’t have to worry about us, love” she told him simply when he was done ranting. “We can take care of things here. You just catch him.”

Chapter Text

Win comforting him upon arriving home had been exactly that – a comfort – but Fred couldn’t’ deny that until now, he had rather put off doing what the rest of his family had been doing, and that was bonding with this young version of his bagman.

After all, he was supposed to catch the bastard who had done this to him, and more than that – he had to tell him about Professor Greer’s stating the possibility that his memories might come back without spooking him, and that would be easier if he had his trust.

By now, it had become startingly clear that Morse was mostly clinging to Win and Sam for comfort, and only held back from doing the same with Joan by the permanent blush that seemed to settle on his cheeks whenever she was near (it really was a kind of adorable picture, but Fred would certainly not mention it, since even he remembered what it was like to be twelve, so long ago) and that he had little to say to Fred.

Again, it was only too natural – would you rather grow close to the man who’d put you somewhere he normally led criminals or to the woman who’d taken you out of there? He really should have thought better of their first interactions, but everything had happened so fast that he hadn’t, and now here they were.

But still… he had to try. He and Morse had instantly clicked on that first case, so much so that he had trusted this would still happen now, and it wasn’t.

So he would have to do the work.

Sometime before dinner he asked, “Lad, can we have a word?”

He looked instantly alarmed, but Win brightly said, “Of course. I’ll bring your tea in, alright, Endeavour?”

He looked at her for reassurance, then nodded; he didn’t insist on either Joan or Sam being with him this time although he still seemed sceptical.

And, seeing what Win had shared about his comments about living at his father’s, who could blame him?

Fred’s best bet, he very well knew, was to be open and honest about the case, despite the hatstand rule.

Not that that had any chance of survival, he thought, watching Sam ruffle Morse’s hair and promising they’d talk later to Joan mumbling something that caused him to blush once more.

They walked into the living room; Fred craved a drink but felt it better to wait for the tea Win had promised them. “So, I’ve been working the case.”

“My case?” he asked with the simple selfishness of children who believed that most of the lives of the people around them turned around themselves because – well, why wouldn’t they? The world was too complicated for young minds by a half.

He nodded. “As a matter of fact, I’ve been talking to quite a few professors and doctors.”

Now Morse appeared alarmed, and it was probably for the best that Win appeared at that moment. “There you go.”

“Do they – are they –“ he took a deep breath. “Do they want to… study me?”

“I knew better than to mention what happened to you” he said honestly, catching an approving look of Win’s.

Morse relaxed ever so slightly. “I thought…”

“Look, Morse, you’re safe here” he tried even as Win beat a strategic retreat – yes, the boy had to learn to trust him, but part of him couldn’t help but think it would have been easier if she had stayed.

And wasn’t that exactly the point.

“I know how doctors can be, and especially Oxford doctors – most of them’d be more interested in the mystery than anything else. And so, we made the decision not to tell anyone. It might even be possible that this will not last, that you’ll go back to your grown-up self on your own. No one knows. And as to you being with us, no one but our closest team – Sergeants Jakes and Strange, and WPC Trewlove, another one of our colleagues, DeBryn – is aware of it. And Superintendent Bright, of course – he has our back, as always”. Might as well stretch the truth there a little – let Morse believe he and their boss had a good relationship, it might do him good in the long run.

“So I don’t have to go see anyone?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

Morse was silent for a moment, then said quietly, “Not right now.”

In the ensuing pause Fred assumed that he was thinking about being turned young and how to get turned back without becoming a guinea pig in the process, but instead he surprised him with, “Win told me my dad’s dead.”

God, he hadn’t even thought of that.

“She didn’t mean to.”

Realizing he apparently believed he might be angry at Win for it, he moved hastily to dispel any such notions. “Truth is, it never even crossed my mind. He – do you want to know?”

His hands closed into fists. “I – I don’t think I do, but I think I should.”

This was the point where Fred could easily have told him that no, he really shouldn’t, and that he was putting his foot down, because he thought Morse already had enough to deal with. But this was about building trust, and should anything go wrong, Win and the children weren’t far away, and so he pressed on. “Your dad’s heart was already weak when you came to Oxford. About two years ago, it rapidly grew worse. Your sister called the station to let you know.”

Morse’s lips twitched and it took Fred a moment to realize that he was imagining the Joyce he knew trying to dial the phone with her little baby hands.

“When it became obvious how bad it was… I drove you to your dad’s place.” There was rather a lot he was leaving out, but he really didn’t want to tell a young boy that he had been shot. “I actually stayed the night in the car just in case you needed something, but you told me you’d be fine.”

Fred had regretted leaving then often enough since that morning. After Morse had returned from his injury, he’d seen that he had needed more encouragement, more care than he had received, but by then, Morse had already closed back off, and in a way, he’d never truly opened up again. Hell, he'd run away into a cabin in the woods after he’d been in prison.

“It was nice of you to check up on me.”

And now the twelve-year-old was trying to comfort the adult in the room. This was going wonderfully.

He looked at Morse and startled, then pulled out his handkerchief. “Here.”

“I don’t –“ Morse only then seemed to realize he was crying, and Fred quickly changed seats so he was sitting next to him on the sofa.

“I don’t even know why – I can’t feel a thing about Dad. That’s not normal.”

It’s normal when your dad is a bigoted sod who tortures you with verses from the Scripture rather than comforting you after you lose your mum, Fred thought.

He reached out to pet his shoulder. “Some things are complicated. Trust me, I know.”

He tried to give him a smile that didn’t quite convince, but he’d take what he could get.

Then, to his utter surprise, Morse leaned his head against Fred’s arm. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

“Anytime, Morse.” Should have made that clear to him a long time ago.

“Endeavour.”

It seemed he was now part of that exclusive group too, so he’d apparently managed to form some sort of rapport.

He’s a child, he thought guiltily. No rapport to establish.

He patted his knee. “Endeavour. You can stay for as long as it takes us to fix this, alright?”

“And if you don’t?”

This time, Fred knew just what to say. “You can stay. As long as you want.”

“Thank you” he repeated, then fell silent.

Actually, he soon dozed off – Fred assumed it had less to do with any tiredness on his part and more with his mind simply wanting to shut down for a bit.

When Win came in, she glanced worriedly at the boy, but Fred nodded at her to let her know everything was alright.

She relaxed and stroked Mo- Endeavour’s hair for a moment before letting them alone again.

When he woke up, he looked contrite. “I’m sorry, I – “

“It’s alright, Endeavour. We all get overwhelmed now and then.” Although in my case, it usually means breaking a few noses. With a stroke of inspiration he added, “Joan and Sam are upstairs. Want to join them, while I talk to… Win?”

His eyes lit up and he soon scampered up the stairs to see who he was probably regarding as some mixture of older siblings and his only playmate at the moment.

Win was in the kitchen of course, preparing dinner. “What happened”

“He asked about his dad. Had a bit of a cry when I told him. He’s fine now, though.”

“Children” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to tell him, but he figured it out when I spoke of his father in past tense.”

“Always been clever that one, it seems.” If only they had him at their side now, searching for Henderson. He’d have come up with an idea, he didn’t doubt.

But they’d have to make do with their own.

He didn’t know why he’d told all the Thursdays to call him Endeavour. When Mum had died, he’d thought he’d never want anyone else to do it, but now…

He had never felt as welcome in a stranger’s house as he was here. He knew part of that had to do with them knowing him before, when he’d been big, but still – he thought they were some of the friendliest people he’d ever met, and they all liked him (even DI Thursday, which he hadn’t been sure of at first, but was now).

It was nice, being liked. He’d never had the feeling in Dad’s house.

Dad… he still didn’t know what to feel. For one uncharitable moment, he almost wished that it had been Gwen who had died, but then little Joycie would have lost her mum.

Little Joycie. He wondered what he’d day if she saw him now. He quickly did the math.

Oh God, she was so old now – over twenty.

But then, Sam and Joan (a slight blush he pretended he didn’t feel heating his cheeks) were in their twenties too, and they still liked to play. Maybe he could play with Joyce, if they ever met.

When he arrived at Sam’s – and he supposed now his – room, he found that the two had actually cleared two of Sam’s shelves and had filled them with his books and records.

His throat felt tight, and talking was suddenly very difficult.

“Hey there” Joan smiled “We thought it would help to make you feel at home.”

“And I can safely say that’s more books than have ever been seen in this room before” Sam chimed in, ruffling his hair again.

He’d occasionally wondered how it would be like to have an older brother, and he suspected it would be a lot like this.

“Which is why I got this” Joan held up Scrabble. “Bet that you and I can beat Sam thoroughly?”

Sam of course immediately began to complain that it was unfair, but Morse grinned.

This was going to be fun.

Fred had meant to check up on the children while Win made dinner, but stopped on the stairs when he heard the three of them laugh.

God, when had he ever heard Morse laugh like that? No, even worse – when had he last heard Morse laugh? Granted, their work didn’t exactly invite for merriment, but still… even Jakes was amused from time to time.

He really should have paid more attention to his bagman.

Not being able to bring himself to interrupt their game when they were so clearly enjoying themselves – another bot of laughter proved him right in that regard –  he decided to have a pipe in the living room.

Chapter Text

Everything went well until he laid bereavement. Technically, it was a good move – worth 24 points – and Sam exclaimed even as Morse had to look away.

“What is it?” Joan, sitting or rather kneeling to his right, asked, and he swallowed.

“My dad’s dead.”

While he knew and understood that Sam’s first reaction was a “Well, yes…” while looking rather helpless, Joan seemed to think differently.

He’d looked away so he had no idea what she’d done, but he heard Sam’s sharp intake of breath and a quiet, “What?”

“I’m sorry” Joan then announced rather loudly.

“Don’t be. It was two years ago, I must already have grieved for him.”

Even though no proper grief would come, even now.

“Still can’t be easy” Sam then proceeded to try at a glare from Joan. “This whole… I mean… it’s not…” he broke off, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

Morse would have liked to reassure him, but he didn’t have a single idea what to say, either.

“You can always come to us to talk” Joan then told him. “You don’t have to react or feel anything right away, alright? Give it time.”

Morse was starting to wonder if the Thursday women simply had a God-given gift to know what to say.

Meat for the second time in a row, Fred realized – Steak and kidney pie.

Before he could say anything, Win explained, “Endeavour really needs some more meat on hose bones. He’s a little too skinny for my taste.”

Fred still remembered her distress when Sam had suddenly shot up like a weed soon after turning ten and looked like he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in the last month.

“They’re playing upstairs.”

“Good”. It was apparently all she had to say about it.

Fred finally sat down and told her about professor Greer’s claims – that basically, everything could happen and that he might even wake up one day having returned to his adult self.

“Still sounds like doing nothing right now is our safest option” Win rightly pointed out.

It still didn’t sit quite right by Fred, but remembering Mo – Endeavour’s laughter, he thought he might get used to it, if he had to.

Joan had insisted that he check over the order they had put his things in while they went to set the table. He figured out why when he decided to see if anything had been left in the boxes and found both A Shropshire Lad and the picture of him and Mum carefully laid on the bottom of one of them so he could put them wherever he wanted.

The Thursdays really did have the best ways of dealing with things, he decided.

Then he gently picked up the picture and put it on the nightstand, realizing it already felt very much like his as he did so. That was ridiculous, of course – Sam had only given him his bed for the time being, and they had even purchased a new one for him, even though he wasn’t sure how long he would stay this way.

Certainly he had to get big again eventually, right? Even if he had no idea how. But then, he didn’t know why he was suddenly twelve again either, for all those explanations about that man Henderson.

Maybe he could ask DI Thursday for more information. Before this evening, he wouldn’t have dared, but he’d been very kind to him in the living room.

He wondered what it was like, being his bagman. He seemed nice enough once one got used to him, so it probably wasn’t much of a chore.

Police work. He was working for the police. Why, he couldn’t imagine. Not that it didn’t sound interesting, in a way, and he liked crime stories, but it wasn’t something he had ever considered for himself.

He decided the best thing to do was to go downstairs when his stomach started to rumble.

Win had always liked to see an appetite in a growing boy, and to her delight, Endeavour was once more indulging her, clearly enjoying her cooking as much, if not more, than her children had ever done.

She caught his eyes and smiled. “Would you like some more, dear?”

“I – if it’s no –“

“None at all” she said cheerfully as she once more filled his plate.

Originally, Fred had imagined that he and Morse would have another chat after dinner; he wanted to talk about what professor Greer had told him some more, just so he’d know what to expect in the coming days (or what not to expect, it was all so bloody uncertain) but, when Sam brought out the boardgames and he watched Morse happily agree, he couldn’t bring himself to.

The truth was, the boy was both so much like and so very much unlike his bagman that he still didn’t quite know how to properly speak to him. They’d managed to grow somewhat closer their talk, but he very much had to be careful not to spook him.

Now, in his excitement at the prospect of the game, his glittering eyes, the way his hands flattered around as he took it all in – that was very much Morse when he was on the case.

But on the other hand, there was an innocence about him – the innocence of children, of those who had not yet seen the world for what it truly was. For his mother’s death and his father’s negligence, he still had the open, trusting heart of a small boy.

It almost hurt, knowing that not only would it be soon taken from him again, but that Fred himself had to make sure it was.

Little did he know that he’d come to regret his moment of weakness in allowing Endeavour to go play, rather than speak to him, that very night.

It was a flash of pain that woke him – unsurprisingly, he thought dryly; that was what generally happened after one had got shot.

Taking a few moments to gather his bearings, he glanced at Dad –

And saw.

For the first few moments, he didn’t do anything at all, simply sat back and tried to comprehend what had happened, to feel something, anything.

He failed miserably.

And so, after having made sure Joyce was comfortable, he got some fresh air.

Only to run into DI Thursday.

As he watched him walk away, he felt more about the fact that someone who had only known him for a few months had decided to check up on him than about his father having died without them ever having a chance to sort out their differences.

Fred couldn’t even say what had woken him up. Win was still sleeping peacefully next to him, and yet he felt certain someone was hushing around downstairs.

He quickly went to investigate and found Endeavour in the kitchen, wearing his new pyjamas, staring out the window, shaking every so slightly.

Win had mentioned him missing his mother the night before, and he wondered if this was the same thing. “Endeavour?”

He turned around and Fred was taken aback by the expression in his eyes. “I didn’t care.”

“What –“

“When Dad died. I sat there and I didn’t feel a single thing then, either.” A pause followed in which Fred tried to understand what had happened only for him to continue, “I was asleep while my dad died next to me and when I realized I felt nothing. I’m a bad person.”

“No you’re not”. At least in that, he felt absolutely certain.

“But then why?”

“You know what, let’s sit down. I’ll make a cup of tea.”

Unexpectedly he smiled. “That’s what Win said, too. Is that the reaction to everything?”

“It’s the best reaction to anything. Sit down” he repeated.

While the water was bubbling, he finally managed to get details of his dream out of Morse.

Seemed like Greer was right. The memory, however, hadn’t given Endeavour any part of his adult personality back. No – he was still looking at it all through a child’s eyes, and as such, seeing everything almost exclusively in black and white. And of course he would interpret it that way.

“Listen, you’re not a bad person. I know you” he insisted.

“But then why didn’t I feel sad?”

“Shock is a completely normal reaction to death” he assured him.

“But I wasn’t in shock. I just didn’t react.”

Fred decided to be frank with him. “Look, Endeavour – you and your dad – you didn’t really get along, did you?”

He shook his head miserably.

“And it wasn’t you. At the very least not until you were grown, and then I would say he still had some pretty big part in your disagreements. And you never got over those. It’s sad, but that’s life. It only makes sense that you wouldn’t feel very much. That doesn’t make you a bad person, it just makes you human.”

While he got their tea, Endeavour was thinking. As he sat back down, he asked, “You really think so?”

“Yes. Trust me, I have seen many bad people in my line of work. You’ve never been one of them. Not as you are now, and not as an adult.”

Another pause. Then, softly “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for, lad. And at the very least – maybe you’ll get more memories back. Better ones.”

Although which one would that be, he wondered. Being thrown into prison? Standing in front of a tiger? Getting slashed at under the Bodleian?

God, he really had been up to a lot in the past few years.

Endeavour looked like he didn’t really cherish the prospect, but that was only too understandable. His dream had clearly unsettled him.

Then suddenly he said, “It meant a lot to him – to big me – that you were there.”

Making such a distinction between who he was now and who he should be was probably one of the few ways in which he could manage to stay sane.

“I wish I could have done more – “

“It was more than Dad ever did.”

That sounded more like the man he had been working with, but he looked so very young and lost as he said it that Fred could take no comfort from it.

It also made his old man sound even worse than he had already considered it, but he was pretty sure he probably shouldn’t mention that.

He drained his cup. “I’m done. Do you think you can go back to sleep now?”

Endeavour nodded and moved to clean up but Fred intercepted him. “I’ll do it. Sleep well, son.”

He only realized what he’d called him after Endeavour had wished him good night and gone upstairs.

Fred wandered if he would have more dreams, and what it would mean for them.

He felt better after talking to DI Thursday. After all, he was a policeman with a lot of experience, he should be able to tell if someone was a bad man or not.

Even if it was weird, remembering himself being grown-up. Because he’d seen the scene, he’d experienced it, but he still felt like a twelve-year-old. It was as if some kind of connection was missing.

He slipped back into bed and tried to think of nothing.

When that didn’t work, he tried to think of something that might help him relax, and eventually settled on the last two days of his life, with the Thursdays. He hadn’t had such good meals since Mum had died, and since he’d never had many friends, he’d seldom had someone who enjoyed playing with him (if he didn’t count little Joycie and he didn’t because she was still a baby and couldn’t do a lot of things).

But Joan and Sam liked to play with him, and they stayed with him when he’d asked them to. And Sam had even given him his bed.

Yes, he had been right earlier – it felt really nice, being liked.

He slipped into sleep with a smile on his lips.  

Chapter Text

The next morning, it being Saturday so she didn’t have to wake anyone up, Win went downstairs quietly. Fred especially needed to have a good night’s sleep – she knew that deep down, he blamed himself for what had happened, and that he had not yet found a way to turn Endeavour back into an adult. Even though the boy under their roof was the last person who would have called him responsible.

Endeavour still came down to help her with breakfast again. When she inquired if he’d slept well, he bit his lip and shuffled his feet, but eventually told her about his dream, and that Fred had helped him through it.

Oh, my poor boy. She couldn’t imagine what it must feel like, to be this the first memory of his adult life to return.

And to top it all off, not to have any connection to it whatsoever, if his demeanour was anything to go by.

She could have said and done a lot of things, but in the end, she settled for pulling him into her arms. “It’s all going to be fine” she said softly. “Now, why don’t I show you how to properly fry bacon?”

He eagerly accepted, obviously happy to forget, if only for a short while.

Things spiralled from there and they were in the middle of preparing a full English breakfast when Joan came into the kitchen and laughed. “Good morning. Transforming him into a full-time chef, are you, Mum?”

“Just showing him a few things, dear” she replied. In truth, neither of her children, while knowing their way around the kitchen (Win would never have forgiven herself if it hadn’t been so) had ever shown much enthusiasm for cooking, and it was downright enjoyable to have someone happy to learn.

“Having fun, Endeavour?”

He didn’t take his eyes off the eggs – like any beginner, he was nervous that if he did, something might happen – but nodded and never saw Joan’s smile at him taking his new-found duties so seriously. She then moved to set the table, however, so Win simply smiled back at her.

Sam came in from the living room in his pyjamas to ruffle Endeavour’s hair once more and tease him a bit, but since he seemed to have nothing against it, Win let it slide.

“You’ll have him make lobsters and stuff soon enough” he told her. “Give or take a few weeks. Hey Endeavour, how do you feel about becoming our private chef?”

“I might enjoy that” he answered seriously and, seeing as the only thing he remembered form his later life right now was the sense of isolation and apparent guilt at his father’s death, she could only too easily understand what was going on.

Sam was taken aback for a second, then decided to joke his way out of it, as usual. “Fine, but don’t complain when I come up with a menu.”

A smile played around Endeavour’s lips, so she decided everything must be fine.

Fred woke up to the same worries that had closed his eyes the previous night. So Morse was starting to remember, or to re-emerge, or whatever – but at this point, the only impact it had on the boy Endeavour was to distress him and make him consider himself a bad person for not grieving enough.

And for a young man who had already shown a rather unfortunate tendency towards self-loathing, it was not a very encouraging beginning to come back to himself.

Now, where were they to go from here; that was the question. He was still as opposed to letting Endeavour be prodded and studied as he had been from the first, and now, that people might even want to try and understand his mind…

God, he didn’t even want to imagine what that could possibly do to him.

He quickly got dressed and made his way downstairs to a sight he had not expected.

For all that children could forgive and forget quickly, he had underestimated how Endeavour would simply try and get on with his life for now.

And it had been a while since they’d had a full English breakfast too, but here they were, with Sam apparently just having fetched the spatula out of Endeavour’s hands, with the boy pouting and trying to get it back until Joan came in and hunted her younger brother down so their “mini chef” as they had supposedly dubbed him could resume his duties, while Win was keeping an eye on things.

“Thank you” Endeavour told Joan, his cheeks on fire once more, and she simply laughed.

He cleared his throat. “Good morning.”

They all greeted him back, even if Morse had trouble meeting his eyes once more, and he sighed. He really thought they’d made some progress yesterday, but they were still far from at ease with one another, unlike Endeavour and the rest of his family. It was a stark contrast to how things had been before, and it continued to unsettle him.

When they finally settled down to breakfast, the bacon was a little crisp, and Fred’s eggs were somewhat runny, but it was still a far cry from the man he remembered didn’t even pay attention to whether he’d eaten that day or not. Win of course praised the food, as did the kiddies, and Endeavour blushed scarlet as he shovelled his portion into his mouth.

Seeing as it was the weekend, there was little they could do but spend the day as comfortable as possible, even though Fred was eager to hunt Henderson down. But he’d made a promise when he’d married Win – that he’d spend as much of his free time at home with his family as he could – and he was always going to keep that promise.

“Mum, can we go to the park?” Sam asked soon after breakfast, as if he was twelve years old again himself.

“Of course dear, just let me make you sandwiches…”

“Make one for me too, Mum?” Joan asked immediately, proving she apparently wanted to accompany them.

For a moment, Fred worried – wasn’t it a little too much like they had a new pet and were eager to play with it? But no; Sam said something under his breath that caused Endeavour to laugh, and Joan grinned.

All well then.

“Be careful” he found himself saying. “If there are rumours…”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got it all covered. Endeavour here’s our baby cousin, in case anyone should ask.”

He was clearly displeased – as anyone his age would have been – at being called baby but nodded.

“We can say he’s Aunt Reenie’s kid” Joan chuckled.

“I hardly think that’s possible” Win reminded her from the kitchen.

“Come on, Mum, with how sprightly she can be…”

Win’s dignified silence allowed Fred to slip into the kitchen and let her know what had happened in the night, only to learn Morse had already told her. Wasn’t that new.

She was worried, naturally. “How do you think he’s coping?”

“I don’t think – well, pet, that’s the problem – he might have gotten back one memory, at least, but I don’t think he really experienced it. He knows what happened, he knows what he felt at the moment – or didn’t feel – but he doesn’t understand, not really.”

“It probably doesn’t help that he first remembered his father’s death. That’s difficult for many adults to deal with. Plus, he’s twelve. I don’t think it’d do him any good to experience his adult emotions in his young body right now.”

Wasn’t that the truth. “I’m still not sure going to the park is the best idea…”

“You can’t lock a young boy up. He needs fresh air and exercise. And Joan and Sam will be with him.”

It was probably as hopeful an answer as he could expect. Then, he pressed on with an idea he’d had while getting dressed. “Say, pet, I know it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to bring Morse to a hospital or any doctor right now – best case scenario, they want to keep him and check him through a thousand times – but I was thinking about calling Doctor DeBryn. He knows Morse, and he could make sure he’s healthy.”

She thought about it, then nodded. “That’s probably for the best.”

Fred waited with his call until the three had left the house, and he couldn’t deny that there seemed to be a new spring in Morse’s steps. Win had been right again – you couldn’t keep a young boy cooped up for too long, not even a shy one who liked to read like Endeavour.

He went to the telephone.

“I was about to call you, Inspector” Doctor DeBryn said immediately. “While so far, we seem to have been able to contain the rumours, I would feel better if we could make sure that he was doing alright. Would you mind if I came over to check on Morse?”

“I was going to suggest the same. Why don’t you come over for dinner? The children are in the park right now.”

Doctor DeBryn was silent for a moment then he said, “Thank you, Inspector. It might be more comfortable for Morse too – seeing me as a guest rather than a doctor.”

That was exactly what he had thought, so he said goodbye and afterwards informed Win that they would have another guest.

Peter still had trouble wrapping his head around the situation.

More was a kid again, and he was currently staying at the Thursdays, while everyone who knew it was scrambling about trying to find a solution before they had to find a school and fake IDs.

Or whatever else they were supposed to do.

He was strolling rather blindly through Oxford, smoking and tyring to make sense of it all. At least he didn’t have to worry about Morse for the time being, he was certain of that – absolutely certain; the Thursdays would look after him come what may.

He as about to see how right he was.

Peter often went to the park near his flat on the weekends – he loved the fresh air, and the sounds of playing children always raised his mood. His own childhood might have been starkly different and much more unpleasant (and he thought once more of Morse, who knew, who was the only one in Oxford who knew, and yet had not said a single thing nor treated him any differently) but he liked seeing happy children.

And today, he was fated to see a very happy kid.

He didn’t even know what made him walk towards one particular high voice – a boyish voice, one who clearly had not yet broken, in other words, one he simply couldn’t have recognized if he tried, so little time had they spent together – but he did.

If there was one thing he would never have expected – even if he could have foreseen he would one day be colleagues with a pre-pubescent boy – it would have been to see Morse of all people in the middle of a group of those his own age, happily playing football.

Well, he definitely didn’t have to worry about him.

“Hello Peter”.

It was Joan. Their few dates may have led to nothing, but they’d parted as something like friends, at least he liked to think so. He nodded at her. “How’s he doing?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course you wouldn’t be asking about me”. She winked. “Our cousin’s fine.”

Cousin? He supposed it was as good an explanation as any why there was suddenly a child at the Thursdays’.

“Well” she lowered her voice. “We didn’t think Dad’s secret lovechild was the right way to go.”

He snorted at the very thought. “Glad to hear he’s fitting in, then.”

“Oh, you should see him and Sam – don’t tell anyone, but Sam’s delighted not to be the youngest at home anymore.”

Clearly, since he’d by now joined the game, together with a few other fathers and older brothers.

“Any news?”

He shook his head. “No. I’m afraid we’ll have to wait and see.”

Not that that would be much of a chore for Morse, he thought, not unfriendly, as he watched him for a few more moments before bidding Joan goodbye.

Chapter Text

Today, Morse had quickly decided after he getting up, was going to be fun, and so far, he’d been right.

He liked cooking with Win, or rather, Win showing him how to cook. He knew Mum had meant to do so as well, before she’d gotten sick; and he liked to imagine that she would have been proud of him, even if the eggs had been a little runny, but not even DI Thursday had commented on it.

Really, apart from everything else, he genuinely enjoyed cooking – mixing the different ingredients and making something tasty out of it. Plus, he had the feeling it was fun for Win too, to have someone else in the kitchen.

Then, of course, Sam had decided they were to go to the park.

When he’d lived with Mum, they’d had a little garden, and around Dad’s house, there had been fields, so he’d never really gone out to play, rather stayed at home or later left so he wouldn’t be in Gwen’s or the baby’s way. Not that little Joycie had complained – she’d seemed to like it when he was around.

And at school, he’d never really made many friends. He was too quiet, too weird, too earnest, or at least that’s what they had told him, what the teachers had thought.

But none of that turned out to be a problem. He simply asked to join the game, and was allowed to. He’d asked in the way he would ask Sam or – or Joan, and no one had protested.

It was a novel concept that he would have to think about. Maybe he’d just said things in the wrong manner before?

Either way, the game was fun too, especially when Sam and Joan joined.

Once, he could have sworn he saw Joan talk to the sergeant who’d been with DI Thursday when they had found him, but then he blinked and he was gone again, so he couldn’t be sure.

Normally he wouldn’t have said something, since Gwen and Dad had always told him he was too curious and that he should be quiet; but after their game, he found the courage to ask as they were walking back for lunch, their sandwiches long since eaten.

“Oh yes” Joan answered immediately, not the least bit angry or annoyed, “Peter Jakes was walking through the park. Wanted to know how you were doing. Told him all was well.”

The sergeant had been kind to him in his own way when he’d been so confused in that dusty room in the empty house, so Morse wasn’t surprised. “Did he have any news?” How he found the courage to ask even more questions, he didn’t know.

“No, sorry, Endeavour.”

He shrugged; at the moment, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear news. Despite what DI Thursday had told him, he still wasn’t entirely certain that he’d been the sort of person he hoped to be one day.

“Hey, everything alright?” Sam asked.

“Just thinking” he replied.

Sam nodded, apparently satisfied with his answer. He reached out to hold his hand as they crossed a street, and Morse complained that he wasn’t a small child.

“Mmh. I seem to remember that you had no problems with it when Joan took your hand a few streets back”.

He blushed.

“Leave him alone, Sam.” She turned to Morse. “Don’t listen to him Endeavour, Sam always says whatever pops into his head.”

It did make him feel a little less awkward.

When they arrived back at the Thursday home, Win was already waiting for them with more sandwiches for lunch, with DI Thursday listening to a cricket match on the radio.

Just as they were finishing eating, Morse’s new bed arrived, and Win immediately commandeered Sam and DI Thursday to carry it upstairs, with Joan volunteering to help them out when needed.

He only understood that Win had wanted to talk to him alone when she drew him into the living room.

“Dear, now, you don’t have to worry – but one of your and Fred’s colleagues is coming over for dinner – Doctor DeBryn.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to see a doctor. His scepticism must have shown on his face, for she quickly continued, “He just wants to make sure you’re alright, dear. That there are no… repercussions for what happened to you. He’ll just quickly look you over if you agree.”

That was just what Win did – she always asked whether he wanted to do things, or if things were okay by him. He wasn’t used to that from adults other than Mum. “I – if you think it would be a good idea…”

“I think we have to make sure.” She tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, as she was wont to do. “I’d feel better.”

That decided it, then. “It’s alright, Win. I won’t make a fuss, I promise.”

“It was never about you making a fuss, dear. It was about you being comfortable.”

And that was something he’d not been used to, either.

She pulled him into a hug. “It’ll all be fine, dear, I promise. I know you’ve been shaken by – remembering.”

He nodded and his face fell. “I – yes. I…”

“I am still so sorry you had to relive your father’s death.”

“I’m not” he blurted out. “And I should be.”

“Are you sure about that”? she asked gently.

He stared at her. “Mum would probably have called it uncharitable – not to care.”

“But you do care, dear, otherwise you wouldn’t have cried. And…” she hesitated for a moment then said, “I deficiently know my husband’s bagman, and I know a good man because of it.”

That did a lot towards making him worry less. If Win said it, it had to be so. She’d never lie to him, he was certain.

“Now” she squeezed his hand. “Why don’t you go and check out your new bed? I’m sure Sam’s going to be glad to have you in his room.”

If it had not been for the obvious elephant in the room, Fred would have considered the afternoon idyllic. After Endeavour had put everything in Sam’s and – Sam’s and his room in order, he’d come back downstairs, where Fred and Sam had settled down to watch the match that was on, and to his surprise, he had joined them.

Joan had once been more settled with antenna duty and clearly resented them just a little for the fact. “What do you expect me to do? Just stand there for the next two hours?”

That would have been the best option, or at least Fred thought so until Endeavour jumped up. “Maybe I can help.”

And for the next ten minutes or so, Fred and Sam were entertained by him and Joan constructing a small tower out of books and one of the boxes they’d brought Endeavour’s things in until by some miracle, the picture was clearer than it had ever been.

“How’d you do that?” Sam demanded, but Endeavour only shrugged.

“Trial and error.”

“Yes, well then, have fun boys” Joan called out as he slipped into the kitchen, presumably to have a comfortable chat with Win.

And Endeavour, indeed, stayed with them.

It didn’t make any sense to Fred. If it had not been for his… accident, he would have been ready to bet that Morse would have been totally unaware that there was even a match on, and yet he seemed to enjoy himself, watching and cheering alongside Sam.

But of course, he suddenly realized. For all children tried to figured themselves out, they also looked to others for guidance.

And so…

Sam wanted to watch football? Fine with Endeavour. He’d cling to his newfound friend and learn to like it, too. Joan loved the Rolling Stones? Naturally, they had to be a good band – couldn’t be anything else, if Joan liked them.

There as also the cooking Win was teaching him, and he’d lost a lot of his shyness around Fred – after all he was sitting next to him without any appearance of confusion or worry whatsoever.

It really made almost too much sense.

But suddenly he found himself wondering if this version of Endeavour would make an impact on Morse, once he was back to his real age. Maybe not – he’d only been with them for two days, although it already felt like he was even more part of the family than he had already been. But what if this took time? Would he remember what it felt like, to be actually cared for, to be surrounded by those who were fond of him? It was almost comical, imagining his bagman suddenly be up to date on the United matches and making small talk without any problems.

Jakes would probably spit out his beer if that ever happened.

As if he’d read his thoughts, Endeavour suddenly announced, without taking his eyes of the screen, “Joan met Sergeant Jakes at the park today. She said he asked how I was doing.”

He really should stop underestimating Jakes. So he did like Morse, and he’d been worried about him.

“Anything else?”

Morse shrugged, still focused on the game in a way only children could focus on something, to the point of completely shutting out anything else. “That there’s nothing new.”

And Fred found himself worrying about something else – how Morse felt about this whole attempt to turn him back into a man. Was he even looking forward to it? What if he’d not been convincing when he’d told him he was a good man? What if he’d rather stay a child? But no – Endeavour was honest with himself, he’d know he couldn’t just stay a boy because then he didn’t have to deal with his father’s death.

Or did he? He was just a boy, after all, even if he was a bloody clever one.

 Maybe he should ask Doctor DeBryn about all this – he was after all Morse’s friend too.

The lad next to him cheered happily with Sam and Fred felt something difficult to describe swell in his breast. What he would give if he could see Morse like this – completely at ease with the world and his place in it, if only for the moment.

After the game, his family more or less settled in the garden, with Endeavour helping Win to make tea and then carefully carrying out the tray as if it was the most precious thing he’d ever been entrusted with.

“We should keep you” Joan said. “Have our own private butler.”

“Just because he offers when you don’t” Win, who was following Endeavour (and clearly checking that it wasn’t too difficult for him) said mildly, sitting down.

“I agree though, it’s practical” Sam grinned and ruffled Endeavour’s hair again which he commented with an indignant squeak.

It was remarkable how quickly he’d found his place among them.

It really was an almost perfect afternoon.

Fred suddenly found himself imagining that something like this had actually happened – that for some reason, after his mother’s death, maybe because she’d been a friend of Win’s, or because they’d otherwise heard of the poor lad, they’d taken Endeavour in, as Joan’s and Sam’s older brother.

It could never have happened of course, but he wondered if it would have felt like this.

And then he asked himself whether they wouldn’t end up missing the boy terribly when things had returned to normal.

But he had no answer to that question, so he decided to ignore it for now.

Doctor DeBryn was punctual to the minute – six pm, as agreed.

The children were currently setting the table, and he quickly went to introduce himself to Endeavour. “Hello, Morse. I’m Max DeBryn. We work together.”

He looked up, then nodded at the bespectacled man.

“Glad to see you looking so well.”

“I’m very well, thank you” he replied quietly, and it was perhaps a good thing that at this moment Win came to greet their guest as well, smiling cheerfully to make him feel welcome.

Chapter Text

Morse did his best to enjoy dinner, but the truth was he could have sworn that he could feel Doctor DeBryn’s eyes on him the entire time. It was nonsense, of course – he was very friendly and made a lot of small talk with DI Thursday and Win; he simply didn’t have the time to watch Morse constantly.

Joan and Sam seemed to notice his discomfort though because they kept trying to distract him. Not in the way adults usually did, though, not in that sense that they gave him to understood they knew better than him and there was nothing to be concerned about, no, they just kept talking of other things, and he couldn’t deny that it did feel good to talk about the game and their time at the park and other stuff.

He still felt certain the doctor snuck glances at him though, even if he didn’t catch him at it.

At least it didn’t hamper his appetite, which Win was clearly happy about.

After dinner, Doctor DeBryn immediately announced, “I wonder if I could have a word, Morse?”

He swallowed. Win, naturally sensing his discomfort, quietly said, “We’ll be next door, Endeavour.”

He nodded and led him into the living room.

“Now, how are you doing?” he asked as soon as the door closed behind them.

“Very well, thank you.”

“I certainly don’t have to ask about your appetite” he drawled, and Morse looked away.

“It wasn’t a criticism, Morse. I have often wished to see you eat more.”

So he didn’t eat much as an adult. That struck him as somewhat illogical, since as a policeman, he certainly had to run after bad guys every so often, and for that he needed energy.

“The Thursdays seem to have done a good job of looking after you.”

“They’ve been very kind” he replied, once more being uncomfortably aware that he was contrasting their way of speaking to him with Dad’s and Gwen’s, with the later coming up short.

“Alright. Well, let’s start with the basics.”

And he reached for his Gladstone bag.

Morse had never liked going to the doctor’s. He had of course gone when Mum had taken him because he didn’t want to be a bad son, and normally, it had passed quickly enough.

None of his doctors had been like Doctor DeBryn, either. He had a rather dry sense of humour – at least Morse supposed he didn’t mean much of what he said, or at the very least Morse wasn’t supposed to take it too seriously.

“Well, everything seems to be normal for someone your age” he finally announced, “Age-appropriate, so to speak.”

“Which age?” he couldn’t help asking.

He snorted. “Haven’t changed much, have you, Morse.”

He wasn’t sure that he liked to hear that.

“Well, that’s one weight off my chest, at least.”

But when he turned around, Morse hastened to say, “Wait – Doctor – please?”

He turned back to him and raised an eyebrow.

“Do you know what happened to me? As, is there any explanation?”

He looked at him and then apparently decided he should give him some answers. “Sadly no. In a place like Oxford there are always rumours, and people who want to prove that impossible things are indeed possible.”

“Six times before breakfast” he couldn’t help but mutter.

“So we’re reasonably sure that someone must know something but that is about it. DI Thursday is on the case, however, and I am reasonably sure he won’t rest until he’s caught the one responsible and ensured that everything goes back to normal.”

Morse nodded since he didn’t know what to reply.

“You do not seem very eager.”

“I – I don’t know” he admitted. “Everything is so confusing, and – with rumours and – and stuff – and –“

His eyes softened and he reached out to clasp his shoulder. Belatedly, Morse realized that he was rather small for a grown-up; they could almost see eye to eye, and he knew he wasn’t the tallest of boys. “You’re safe here, no matter what happens, Morse. The Thursdays – they are good people.”

He nodded and they went to join the others in the dining room again.

Of course. That’s the order of the day. Find the bloody boy before anything happens, before people figure it out. Who does he think I am, his servant? I was the one who made it possible – he was much too scared to do anything about it – and then he started yammering as soon as I put his invention to good use… what did he expect, that people would begin helping orphans or start over in life? Pathetic.

And now I have to find the boy. How would I know who he is? I suppose the other policemen took him with him to the station… Old Man Thursday would never leave a man behind, that much is clear. Much too loyal. This one was bloody young though, even for a detective, so I figured they can’t have been that close… but where could he be? They won’t keep a boy at the station. No, much too nice for that, our bloody pigs.

But where can he be, then?

They had switched places, and now Endeavour was helping the others to clean up while Fred was having a drink with Doctor DeBryn in the living room.

“Doctor – how is he? Be honest, please.”

“When have I be known not to be?” he asked simply. “And I have to say, physically, Morse is doping even better than I could have hoped.”

“And emotionally?”

He frowned as he contemplated his answer, and Fred’s heart sank slightly. “He’s… a little confused, I’d say. At least when he stops and thinks for too long. But again, may I suggest that that’ nothing new? And as long as he’s talking with your family, or having fun… I watched him closely at dinner. Whenever he relayed, I’d say he’s just like any twelve-year-old who’s among friends during the holidays.”

Fred relaxed. “Good.”

“Maybe, Inspector…” he hesitated.

“Out with it” he encouraged him.

Even if he had the feeling that he’d rather not hear what came next.

“It’s not my place to say, of course. In the end this is Morse’s life we’re talking about. But… when I spoke about things returning to normally… he didn’t seem particularly eager that they should. Is there something he hasn’t told me, perhaps?

DeBryn couldn’t have known about the dream, and Endeavour had clearly not felt compelled to tell him about it. Lying by omission. Clever little bugger. Fred suppressed something that might have looked a little too much like a proud smile as he replied, “He had a dream – a memory – last night. Of when his father died two years back. Its hook him a bit – I think he didn’t feel how he expected or thought he ought to feel. And that scared him – made him think he might not be a very good person.”

“Morse has always tended to be a little too introspective… it makes sense. But for what it’s worth, it’s caused me a little bit of worry – that he may not want to return to his adult self.”

“May not want…” he repeated somewhat helplessly. Until this moment, he had taken it for granted that Morse wanted to be a man again. After all, he was a detective with a good career before him, his colleagues liked him – so he grew a little morose now and then, especially if he had another fall out with a girl – but didn’t they all? Certainly, that wasn’t enough reason to simply decide he didn’t want to grow up (or at least not right now).

“And, really, given the excellent treatment he’s received so far, I am not surprised. It might be advisable to make him… a little less comfortable here.”

Now that Fred really didn’t like to hear. “What do you suppose we should be doing? Lock him up? Force him to do chores all day?”

Doctor DeBryn emptied his glass. “Quite frankly, Inspector, I am at much as a loss as you are. I don’t know how, either – and furthermore, I suspect neither of us wants to contemplate the subject.”

“Let’s just say” he tried the humours approach. “If you’re really serious I suggest you take up the subject with my wife.”

Win would probably start screaming, something she had only done twice that he could remember.

Now DeBryn smiled. “I already noticed they seem to have grown remarkably close in a very short period of time.”

He shrugged. “Win always liked the lad, right from the start… never could get to call him by her first name, though. And I think when she came to get him in the station – she was the friendliest face he’d seen until then, so he naturally clung to her. And she’s always been good with kiddies, even before our own came along.”

“I am not surprised” was all the doctor said before getting up. “I should head home, Inspector. I’ll say my goodbyes to your family – and to Morse.”

Fred wondered if he’d noticed his slight hesitation before especially mentioning Endeavour himself.

Even so, he couldn’t overlook – he doubted anyone could have – the sigh of relief that escaped Endeavour when the door closed behind the doctor.

Well, he was none the worse for wear for the check-up and it was something to know that he was doing well.

“How about another cup of tea?” Win said brightly, once more trying to tame Endeavor’s hair.

Yes – good luck with Doctor DeBryn’s suggestion. There was no way he cold even approach the topic without her being shocked at so much callousness.

Came from being around dead bodies all day, he supposed.

After the tea, Sam dragged Joan and Endeavour to play bard games again, and Win demanded a through report.

She was just as relieved as Fred himself that Endeavour had come to no harm through the procedure, of course, but he had underestimated her (again.) She knew he was keeping something from her, and wouldn’t hear no for an answer, and so he finally told her the truth.

She stared at him. “He expects us to do what?”

“Doctor DeBryn doesn’t expect us to do anything: he himself admitted he had no idea what to do” he pointed out. “He just thought that we should know –“

“That we shouldn’t be too nice to a twelve-year-old orphan?”

Oh oh. That was the same tone he’d heard when he’d admitted to putting Morse into an interrogation room. “That’s what I meant when I said he doesn’t know what to do either, pet. He clearly wants the best for Morse –“

“Are we even sure becoming an adult again is in his best interest?”

He stared at her. “Win?”

“He’s so happy here, Fred – you saw him yourself at dinner. Wouldn’t it be wrong to force him to grow up if he doesn’t want to?”

Oh God, had Win already started to see him as another son? Granted, Fred wasn’t one to talk in that regard – there had been tongues wagging since the moment he’d taken Morse on as his bagman. “Winnifred..”

“I know, I know” she sniffed. “It’s just nice to see him smile so happily.”

It was. He couldn’t deny that. “Well” he said, somewhat unconvincingly, “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“And how did you like DeBryn?” Sam asked, grinning. “Bit of a weird one, huh?”

Morse thought. “He appeared somewhat… eccentric.”

Sam snorted and Joan announced “Just because you wouldn’t know diplomacy if it danced naked up and down from you…”

“Yes, yes, I know” he raised his hands. “I know.”

Morse thought back to what Doctor DeBryn had said, about returning to normal, and wondered how many times he’d be able to play a game with the Thursdays like this before he became big again and had to go back to his place.

Morse concentrated back on the game. It seemed to be the easiest thing to do.

Chapter Text

Sunday turned out to be rainy, which did however not prevent Joan and Sam from taking Endeavour to the movies, another pastime Morse wouldn’t have been eager to participate in a few days ago, but which he now agreed to with a smile on his face.

Remembering what Doctor DeBryn had said, Fred watched them go with slight misgivings. Not because he thought it might be a good idea to make him miserable after all – good God, he couldn’t have brought himself to do that with his constable, much less this boy – but because he was starting to wonder if perhaps he was changing a bit too much from who he had been.

“You don’t have to worry” Win told him, misinterpreting his expression for once. “Joan and Sam will take care of him; they’d notice if anyone was after him.”

“I know.”

“See? Everything’s fine.”

If only he could have convinced himself of that, but the three came back as happy and healthy as they had left.

Win, as she waited for the children to return, once more thought of what Doctor DeBryn had said. She rejected the idea as quickly as she had yesterday – she wouldn’t have caused any child willingly pain, much less one she had taken under her roof and therefore felt responsible for.

It wasn’t that she was angry at the good doctor – she even understood where he was coming from – but she would never do that, and she would actively try to stop anyone who did.

And what if there was some truth to it all, and Endeavour didn’t want to return to being Constable Morse – what if he simply wanted to stay a boy, to get another chance?

She had told him that he could stay with them, and she realized that she had completely and utterly meant it. There would be a bit of a hassle, she assumed, concerning his papers, and they’d have to find him a school, but once that was over with…

Not that that was anything she had to worry about at the moment. It was still early days, and for now, she as more than content to know that Endeavour was happy and safe with them.

“Alright” Sam said more amused than anything as they exited the theatre, “Did anyone understand what was going on?”

“My teacher mentioned Harold Pinter once or twice” Endeavour replied hesitatingly, turning back for a moment to study the poster of Accident once more, “and I somehow got the impression that he’s not supposed to be easily understood.”

“That’s an understatement.” Sam grinned. “Still, kind of neat to see how much of it was filmed in Oxford.”

Endeavour hummed than announced, “I like it here.”

“Good thing you moved here then. How’s Lincolnshire, anyway? I’ve never been.”

Endeavour’s face fell and before Sam, who clearly noticed as well, could change the subject, he said, “A lot of empty fields.”

“Well and we have a lot of annoying dons. Just ask dad. It all comes out even.”

At least that made him smile again.

 Joan was half-listening to them, enjoying their easy banter, it was true, but on the other hand…

As soon as they had left the theatre, she had felt the overwhelming feeling that they were being watched. Being a policeman’s daughter, she had of course a few tricks up her sleeve; and she was currently busy glancing at shop windows, hoping to catch a reflection of whoever was so interested in them.

“What do you say, Joanie? Did you get the movie?”

She threw Sam a glance that immediately alerted him that something was wrong and at the same time made him understand not to let Endeavour know. He really had to deal with enough right now; he didn’t have to worry about this, too.

If she had to be honest, Joan had surprised herself with how immediately protective she had become of Morse. There had never been anything between them – but at the same time there had not been nothing between them – and yet all she could see was a boy in need. Much like Sam had been, once upon a time, when she’d fended off his bullies at the playground because no one attacked her little brother on her watch.

And so, she wanted him just as safe, and he couldn’t be if people were stalking him.

And yet there was no one to see.

She sighed and finally answered the question to rouse no suspicions, “No but like Morse said, I don’t think that’s the point.”

Maybe Morse would have been able to explain, but they were wit Endeavour now, and he needed their protection. “Anyway, Mum loves it when we tell her about the movies.”

As always when she mentioned her, Endeavour brightened up, and Joan found herself wondering how he could have ever been neglected at his father’s house. He looked so utterly adorable when he smiled… small wonder Mum had immediately chosen to take him in and doated so much on him. After all, they did too, if in their own way.

Despite her best attempts, they saw no one the entire way home, but at least Endeavour was none the wiser.

She wondered if she should tell Dad, but what good would come of it? He’d rage and yell and probably scare Endeavour by planning to lock him up or something like that… yes, it was much better to ask Mum first.

“Are you sure, Joanie?”

She shook her head. “No, I can’t be, that’s the problem. I just felt like someone was watching us – yet, for what it’s worth, could be a colleague of mine’s or Sam wondering what we were doing with the kid.”

Mum pursed her lips. “I don’t like this.”

“Me either.” What if someone wanted to take endeavour – but what for, she asked herself in the same moment. From what they knew – what Dad had eventually divulged – the guy had just been trying to get away, so why would anyone be after Endeavour now? He certainly and succeeded – Endeavour didn’t even know who he had been trying to arrest, no, he wasn’t even aware that he had been trying to arrest anyone.

“Still” she tried “as long as we’re with him no one will probably try anything.”

Mum nodded. “Be careful, though.”

“We’ll be fine as long as Dad doesn’t hear. You know what he would do.”

Mum’s lips twitched.

Joan was about to mention that they had gotten lucky, since Morse was rather the type to stay home and read or listen to music, before she realized that the boy who was living with them greatly enjoyed going out with them.

Funny how she hadn’t even realized until now.

She wondered what that could possibly mean, and if it even had to mean anything.

Fred had sort of forgotten just how quickly children could change places and how one was bound to find them where one least expected; and so, he was slightly taken aback when he stumbled across Endeavour listening to one of his LPs in the living room. With his brows furrowed, he looked so much like the Morse he knew so well that Fred was taken aback for a second – already, it seemed, he had grown used to the much happier boy – and he sat down next to him. “Penny for them?”

His heart sank when he realized he was listening to Un Bel Di. That aria in particular would always stay connected with Rosalind Calloway in his mind – in both their minds, he was certain.

Or not, since Endeavour looked at him and – shrugged? “It’s beautiful. But it’s also – it’s very sad, isn’t it.”

Thinking of Italy, he could only agree. “That’s the point. Lost of sad endings in opera.” How well he remembered the Mason Gull case, and Morse climbing over the roof to save him…

“It just doesn’t sound like much fun, that’s all.”

Such a simple view of it all. But of course it was – the view of a child. And Joan and Sam weren’t currently with him to make it fun. “But you like it?”

“It really is beautiful” he said softly. So he wasn’t that different from their Morse after all.

Suddenly, Fred realized something. Morse had told him once – during one of innumerable stakeouts, when eventually, you started to talk because there was nothing else to do – that music, that opera had saved him when he had been all alone, after his mother’s death.

And right now, there was no saving necessary. He as well-fed and clothed, and he was surrounded by those who cared deeply for him.

Unexpectedly, Fred felt proud of himself and the others. How easy it had come to them, what Morse’s father had never bothered to do.

And yet at the same time… “Well, you can always start small. One aria at a time. Doesn’t have to be Wagner from the get-go” he joked, which naturally fell flat, since Morse didn’t remember his fondness for the German composer.

“There’s quite a bit of Wagner among my LPs” he told him. “Did I like him very much?”

Fred realized rather to his surprise that it was the first time in quite some time that he’d asked a direct question about himself. “Yes. Couldn’t get enough of it.”

“What about you?”

Fred shrugged. “Never been one for classical music, but everyone’s different. Been to a concert with Win once or twice since she likes it. And well – you’ve heard what Joan and Sam listen to. Not many Valkyries in the Rolling Stones.”

“Probably not” he agreed with a smile.

“And, did you three have fun at the movies?”

What followed was the usual prattle whenever one asked such a question of a curious boy, but Fred didn’t mind one bit.

Endeavour stole into the kitchen when it was time to make dinner and asked quietly if he could help; Win, realizing he wanted to learn more about cooking, happily agreed.

Tonight, she thought he might benefit from learning how to slice properly – the last time Sam had tried to help her with the potatoes, he had cut his finger, after all.

“And that’s how you best cut onions” she told him, showing him how it was done.

Endeavour blinked, his eyes already tearing up.

She had to smile. “You’ll get used to it”.

He nodded bravely and carefully took the knife.

And to think how often Fred had complained that he didn’t take care of himself or his possessions except for his music and books.

“Yes, just like that” she encouraged him.

“I helped Mum out in the kitchen a few times too” he told her, and suddenly, she wasn’t sure anymore if the tears solely came from the onions. “She said I was too young for some things and then she got sick…”

She couldn’t help it; she kissed his head. “I’m sure she’d be proud”.

He smiled shyly at her.

“Endeavour’s helping Mum in the kitchen again” Sam reported in the living room, where Joan and Fred were currently watching TV (if Endeavour could handle her music, so could Fred). “If things go one like that, we’ll have our own personal chef soon enough.”

“Isn’t that Mum’s job?” asked Joan, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Oy.”

“Come on Dad, it was just a joke.”

Still, he thought, it would be nice if Morse could remember how to cook when he became an adult again. Might help him put some meat on those bones. Although a little of his appetite as a boy would also help greatly…

“I think he’s actually having fun, though”.

“Not like you two, then” he replied to Sam.

“As if you enjoy cooking, Dad –“

“Dinner’s all but ready” Endeavour announced with all the pride of a professional chef. “And Joan, Sam – Win says you’re to set the table, and I am to do absolutely nothing – ”

How he could sound so smug and so mischievous at the same time, Fred had no idea, but it made him feel rather confusedly happy that Endeavour sounded very much like their younger brother at the moment.

Chapter Text

F for Fred.

How could he have been so naïve? Of course Gull was after Inspector Thursday. It fit only too well – the inspector who was coming after him, like all those years ago, and he’d conveniently lured him onto the roof –

He needed to get there, and fast.

He would later realize that he didn’t remember making the conscious decision to climb over the college – but suddenly he became aware that he was already clinging to the wall, scrambling nearer and nearer –

Morse sat up in bed, breathing heavily, remembering just in time that Sam was asleep in the same room.

His heart was beathing wildly. The dream – Gull – Gull had – this man, he’d done bad things, he knew that; and DI Thursday had been in danger – and he’d – he’d had to do something –

He’d climbed over a roof. The thought alone left him feeling vaguely dizzy, which was strange because he’d never had problems with heights before.

It must be another memory. He decided that he liked this one better than the other – for the simply reason that it rather made him out be the hero. Certainly, it was a good thing that he’d been ready to risk his life for an inspector – and for DI Thursday to boot.

Maybe he wasn’t such a bad person after all.

He laid down and closed his eyes, soon sinking back into a dreamless sleep.

Somewhat uncharacteristically, Fred was the first one up the next morning. Then again, he’d lain awake for hours anyway, thinking about Endeavour and Morse and what in God’s name they were supposed to do about it. Maybe people like Greer and others like him could help – but he still held fast that he’d rather not put him through any of that if it wasn’t necessary and if they caught Henderson, it just might not be.

So, he lit up his pipe after he’d put the kettle on and thought.

Henderson, able to turn himself back into a boy or a young man whenever he wanted – and therefore of course also to claim that no, he couldn’t be the one they were searching for.

What they needed was both a way to identify him, and proof when they found him, otherwise they couldn’t arrest him, and he’d slip out of their grasp again, even more careful than before.

Fred decided then and there that there would be no point ion uselessly running around like headless chickens, as they had done so far. No; they needed to find out more about Henderson, where he’d been born, where he’d grown up. Mostly, they needed pictures of him as a boy – of all ages, at best, so that they’d have something, anything to show for, and to know it was him.

Yes, it would be for the best if they concentrated on Henderson for now. Endeavour was safe and happy here with them; he could stay for a few more days, certainly.

Or to be precise, Fred was determined that no one would take them away from them.

Win came into the kitchen. “Good morning, love. Oh, you made tea – thank you.”

“Don’t mention it”. He kissed her, then hesitated for a moment – but really, they had abandoned the hatstand rule when it came to this case. “I’ve been thinking that we should look into Henderson’s background. Try to see if we can find out what he looked like when he was younger. Might find him easier, then.”

“And you could prove it was him” she realized. “Yes, you do that. Endeavour can stay here with us, don’t worry.”

Said Endeavour joined them a few minutes later.

“Good morning dear” Win immediately said, smoothing down his curls. “Did you sleep well?”

He nodded. “Do you need help with breakfast?”

Win acquiesced, of course, and Fred was struck with how quickly they had turned into a team in the kitchen, with easily passing one another without being in the way, preparing the meal together as if they had been doing it for years.

Before he could stop himself, he wondered if this is what it had looked like when Morse had been living with his mother – just a gentle, happy boy, enjoying his childish pleasures.

Seeing as he was the one in the way, he decided the best thing to do would be to retreat into the living room.

After a breakfast during which he had watched Endeavour once again tease Joan and Sam as if he had grown up with them, he was picked up by Jakes, and decided it was only fair to ask the Sergeant in so he could see for himself that Morse was doing well. “Doctor DeBryn already saw him” he told him beforehand, “So we know he’s healthy.”

Win was cleaning and Morse drying the dishes when they entered the kitchen, Joan and Sam taking turns in putting them away.

“Oh, hello, Sergeant”.

Endeavour turned around. “Hello.”

Jakes clearly didn’t quite know what to say so eventually settled once more on, “Hey, kid. Just wanted to check in.”

He nodded and turned back to Win.

Jakes appeared somewhat dazed as they walked to the car but started apologizing as soon as he was behind the wheel. “I’m sorry, sir, it’s just so bizarre…”

“I understand.” In truth he didn’t quite understand, not anymore. What had been bizarre at the beginning, they had grown rapidly used to; and no, he didn’t think it any weirder to sit down opposite of Endeavour than he did his own children.

“He seems…” he hesitated for a moment then continued, “content.”

“He and the children had a rather fun weekend, and he loves helping Win in the kitchen.”

Jakes shot him a look he couldn’t read. “At least he’s in good spirits” was what he finally settled on as a reply.

“We really need to get more information on Henderson” Fred told him. “If we knew what he looked like at various points in his life it would be much easier to find him.”

Jakes nodded. “Doesn’t it say in his file that he’s originally from Lincolnshire?”

What were the odds. “I guess then that’s where we’ll go – after we’ve talked to our remaining experts, that is.”

“And then there’s something else, sir. I have been thinking… Henderson would need help, wouldn’t he?”

“Yes, but we already knew that he has an accomplice… couldn’t have done it on his own.”

“Yes, but he probably needs some… unusual ingredients, sir. I mean, he turned a man back into a boy. Can’t imagine he managed that with something you find in your kitchen.”

“Even if we would” Fred had to chuckle “Win and Endeavour would probably already have used it up to cook something.”

He never saw the glance Jakes threw him.

Peter wasn’t one to question his superior officers… oh, who was he kidding.

He wasn’t one to do so in earshot of the respective superior officer.

But that didn’t stop him from seeing or hearing when something was… well, but things weren’t wrong per se, weren’t they? No, wrong would have been the… wrong word.

God, this was bloody confusing. It really said something when Morse being a kid was the easiest thing to swallow.

It was pure coincidence that he came across Doctor DeBRyn in the squad room – or maybe not. After all, he would later think, the doctor had no reason to be there, it wasn’t like he had had a body to cut up; which meant that he, too, must have been concerned.

“Sergeant.”

“Doctor”. He lit up a cigarette.

“Any news?”

He shook his head. “I saw…” he hesitated, then continued, “I saw Morse this morning. He’s doing well.”

After a moment of silence, Doctor DeBryn replied, “I take it that there is more behind “doing well” then what the expression usually suggests.”

Peter wondered how to broach the subject, then decided to be blunt. “They’re already treating him like one of their own” he said. “The Thursdays, I mean. I half-expected him to call DI Thursday Dad.”

“I noticed that he’s become remarkably… familiar with them as well” he replied carefully. “They invited me to dinner, and what I saw was a rather precocious, if well-mannered boy, very comfortable in his surroundings.”

And wasn’t that something. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Morse truly comfortable… anywhere or with anyone. “On the one hand, it makes our job a whole lot easier. If Morse likes it at the Thursdays, he’ll stay put and let us do the work.” For once in their lives.

“Yes, Sergeant, but on the other hand... now that’s a problem, isn’t it.”

Yes, he thought, taking a drag of his cigarette. All of this could very easily get complicated very very quickly, if Morse grew to see the Thursdays as his family, and if they reciprocated…

“Our best bet, if you’ll forgive me for making the suggestion, would be to have Morse turn back as soon as possible. And for that, you’ll have to catch Henderson.”

Peter nodded. It was the only idea he’d had, too.

“Seems like we’ll head up to Lincolnshire.”

DeBryn raised an eyebrow and Jakes realized his mistake. “To look for evidence of Henderson’s earlier life” he clarified. “Might give us some idea what we’re looking for. There’s also… well, if Henderson wants to keep this up, he has to get his material from somewhere, most likely a scientist or a doctor.”

DeBryn nodded. “That makes sense. I will be contacting a few more of my colleagues, maybe we can come up with a list of things he would approximately need. I’ll then coordinate with you, of course.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Don’t mention it, Jakes” he replied with a pained smile. “The Thursdays aren’t the only ones who are used to Morse, are they.”

No. Indeed they were not.

Strange had immediately offered to check out what kind of supplied Henderson might need and, with Trewlove’s help, to see if any attempts to find them had been made.

Peter had judged it the best move to stay close to the Old Man and help out as he saw fit.

He took Henderson’s file out again. Yes, born and bred in Lincolnshire. Like Morse.

He sighed. Why did everything always, always seem to come back to Morse?

They’d left the station again soon after arriving, with DI Thursday informing Superintendent Bright of their plans.

The other doctors – Professor Greer had been kind enough to give them a few names – were not of any help, either.

Professor Anderson was a handsome woman around forty, who mostly studied the aging processes of mammals and therefore had little to say to them, even if she seemed somewhat bemused at their questions. “You should ask Malak” she finally said.

“Sorry?”

“Professor Malak” she said, “John Malak. He’s the one who’s been looking at the aging of human cells lately.”

And so, they went to see him. Or rather, tried to.

When they arrived at his office, the door sprang open before they could even knock and Malak strolled out, frowning.

“A minute, Professor” Fred called out and he reluctantly came to a standstill.

“What is it?”

“I’m DI Thursday and this is Sergeant Jakes, from Cowley CID. We need to talk to you for a minute.”

He was obviously reluctant to hear them out but led them back into his rather dark and dreary office filled with all kinds of sliced things on the wall.

Fred explained what they had allegedly found in Henderson’s papers, but he just angrily and impatiently shook his head. “This is absolute nonsense, Inspector. Now if you’ll excuse me, there are things I need to be doing…”

He was definitely on the list, Fred thought as they left.

Fred wondered if Endeavour would have known who that statue of a sleeping young man was supposed to portray, but he decided against asking.

Professor Tobin was at least somewhat more friendly than Malak. “I see the problem, Inspector, but this would require a certain… sophistication, and it doesn’t strike me that the man you seek is… that.”

“Which is why we think he has an accomplice.”

Tobin nodded. “That does make sense. It would be fascinating to know…” he trailed off. “I will keep my eyes and ears open, Inspector.”

They could only thank him and leave.

And they were off to find more information on Henderson.

“His parents are both dead, but it seems like an old aunt of his is till alive and kicking” Peter summarized. “She might have some family mementoes”.

Really, it sounded relatively uncomplicated. All they had to do was find the aunt and ask for pictures. Nothing they should worry about.

Peter really should have known better than to think like that.

With both Joan and Sam at work, it was once more only her and Endeavour; she could hear the radio from the living room and smiled. “Dear” she called out eventually, “Would you like to go shopping with me?”

Like most twelve-year-olds, he wasn’t one for sitting still for too long, even with being a bookworm, and so happily agreed.

Win was not in the lasts surprised to learn that Endeavour had a sweet tooth (which child hadn’t)? But just a she watched him glance at the biscuits again with a smile on her face, she felt it too.

What Joan had told her about.

Someone was watching them.

She glanced around but, much like her children, she couldn’t make out who was after them-.

“Win? Is everything alright?”

“Oh yes, dear. Just a bit nervous. That’s all.“

Endeavour nodded, trusting her completely, and she swore that she would do anything to keep him safe.

Chapter Text

Henderson’s aunt lived in the house he had grown up in and that, if Peter had used such words, he wouldn’t have hesitated to call quaint. It quite frankly didn’t really fit with his picture of the family home of a convicted felon, but then, he knew it wasn’t all about looks.

She was thankfully at home and pursed her lips when they explained what they were doing here (while leaving out the… more implausible details of it all). “My nephew… he went bad at an early age. Never figured out what went wrong – my sister doted on her boy.”

Again, that didn’t have to mean anything.

“We were wondering if he perhaps still had friends in the area” DI Thursday began smoothly, “Maybe someone he grew up with?”

She thought for a moment. “You better come in; I might remember better over a cup of tea.”

With very thing that had been going on, a cup of tea sounded wonderful.

With DI Thursday at his most affable, it didn’t take long for Miss Ashton to start trusting him and yes, here came the picture albums.

“That’s Frank at age five” she pointed at the picture of a young rather adorable boy. He was struck with the thought that his parents must have had dreams and hopes for him, and what it had all turned into, and swallowed before asking, “Maybe a school friend… someone from when he was a little older?”

Henderson wouldn’t turn himself into a five-year-old. For one, he’d be too small and weak, and he’d risk people noticing a small child without parents running around.

“Well, he did run around with quite a few boys his age… now that I think about it, they might well have pushed him down the wrong path. You know, children that age are so very impressionable.”

She sounded like many other relative Peter had hear try to defend a loved one over the years, but he certainly wasn’t about to discuss what had ruined her nephew with a nice old lady.

“It has been known to happen, Miss Ashton” DI Thursday replied diplomatically, but Peter, who knew him rather well by this point, noticed a hint of pride in his voice that his children had not turned bad, no matter how many friends they’d made in school.

If this all went wrong, he suddenly found himself thinking, they’d be the right people to raise Morse. he might even become a happier man for it. Mrs. Thursday was already teaching him how to cook, and Joan and Sam would make sure he ran in the right crowd; and if there was someone who could be firm but friendly, lead him onto a good path, it was the Old Man…

The next moment, he shook himself. That way lay madness. Otherwise, he’d start thinking about other people who might enjoy the chance of a fresh start, among them…

No. One got one lot in life and one had to deal with it. That was how it worked, that was how it had to be. Anything else would be chaos.

“Here” Miss Ashton said, turning the page.

Ah. Now they were coming closer. There was a twelve- to fifteen-year-old Henderson, smiling proudly; in one picture, he and his father had apparently been fishing together, in another, he was riding a bike.

“May we keep those?” DI Thursday asked.

Peter expected that she’d demand the reason why he’d want such old pictures, but instead she studied them with wise eyes as she said, “Frank… he’s either done something very stupid or very bad or both.”

“We cannot speak about our current investigations, ma’am” DI Thursday replied.

“No, of course not. But, Inspector… I hope he hasn’t hurt anyone, and if he has, that it can be fixed.”

Yes, Peter hoped that, too.

He couldn’t say the same with absolute certainty when it came to DI Thursday, though.

His boss appeared lost in thought after they’d said their goodbyes. It was explained when he said, “Morse’s sister and stepmother don’t live far from here.”

Oh.

“It would only be right to let his sister know” he continued. “She’s all the family he has.”

Peter somehow managed to stop himself from saying Are you sure about that, sir, and replied, “But I don’t know if Morse would agree. He’d probably be worried that she’d worry…”

“Yes, but still… she is his sister.”

That decided it, and they made their way to the small house despite not even knowing whether or not Morse’s sister was even at home at this time of the day.

It was the stepmother how opened the door, a frown on her face, and Peter wondered if this was what Morse had seen on the day they had sent him here after his mother had died. If so, small wonder they had never grown close.

When they told her who they were she asked with apparent indifference “Something happen to him?” and Peter’s dislike of her became decided. He and Morse might have gotten off then wrong foot, but he’d still cared when Morse had been thrown into prison.

“We’d really like to talk to Miss Morse, if she’s here” DI Thursday managed to say while keeping his temper at bay.

That seemed to be enough for her, for she led them to the living room and called her daughter.

Peter only realized what this must look like when she stormed in, her face ashen. “What’s wrong? Where’s Morse? I wasn’t able to reach him on the weekend, but I thought he might have a case…”

“Your brother is… doing well” DI Thursday assured her, although it was clear she’d heard his slight hesitation. “Why don’t we sit down? I am afraid this will take a while…”

“Morse is twelve years old again” she repeated. “Like he was when he came to live with us.”

They nodded.

“I – “ she got up and ran her right hand through her hair. “How is that even possible?”

“We aren’t sure yet” DI Thursday said honestly, “But it is clearly him. He asked about little Joycie when we found him.”

She smiled weakly. “Little Joycie… That’s what he called me until I was about ten.” She grew serious again. “I need to see him.”

Peter had always known that morse was fond of his sister, and it seemed the feeling was mutual.

Only that he probably hadn’t made much effort to stay in touch, because this was Morse they were talking about. He sighed.

Mere minutes later – She’d packed a bag with a few essentials and assured her mother that yes, she had to go see Morse now, and don’t worry, she’d excuse herself at school, family emergency and all that – they were in the car.

Silence reigned as they were all busy with their own thoughts.

Fred first started to doubt he’d done the right thing when they stopped in front of his house. It had seemed the only right thing to do to offer Miss Morse – Joyce, as she insisted – to take her with them back in Lincolnshire. But now… what if Endeavour grew anxious or upset?

They were here now, though, so he turned to her and said “Perhaps I should tell En- Morse you’re here first. Prepare him. No offense, Joyce, but you don’t look like the sister he remembers.”

She smiled somewhat pained. “Of course, Inspector. Whatever you consider best.”

He quickly went into the house, where he found Win and Endeavour drinking tea in the kitchen, the later busy with a crosswords puzzle, naturally.

“Fred! Home in the afternoon?”

Endeavour looked up.” Hello, Mr. Thursday.”

“Oy, lad. Sorry to burst in on you like this, but your sister would like to see you.”

His face lit up. “Joyce?” His expression darkened. “But does she know…”

“Yes. You don’t have to worry. She knows everything. She just wants to make sure you’re doing alright.”

He thought about it for a moment, then nodded rather weakly.

Fred reached out and squeezed his shoulder as Win said, “I could stay with you, dear.”

“No. no, it’s fine. I mean… it’s Joycie. Can I – can I talk to her in the living room?”

“Of course” Win answered for both of them and added, as Fred turned around to fetch Joyce, “I’ll put the kettle on.”

Joyce had already left the car and was apparently only waiting for Fred’s sign to approach the house.

He nodded at Jakes – he didn’t seem impatient, and really, they’d soon be on their way again – and led her into the living room.

Until now, Morse hadn’t known what he expected. He knew that Joycie wasn’t a baby anymore. But he knew that in the way that he knew the earth turned around the sun – as a fact. It made seeing her as a grown-up in no way more real to him.

She was very pretty – actually, he thought with a blush, she looked a bit like Joan – and she stared at him with wide eyes. “Good God, Morse.”

He shuffled his feet. “Hello, Joyce.”

She shook her head. “You look just like you did when we used to play around…”

“I don’t remember it” he told her, honestly sorry. He didn’t want to make Joycie sad.

She then surprised him by hugging him. He somehow had the feeling they didn’t do it often. Win, now, she hugged and touched him all the time; Sam laughed and ruffled his hair; Joan took his hand when they crossed the road; and DI Thursday squeezed or patted his shoulder if he wanted to comfort him. He liked that. But maybe that was just how the Thursdays were. He and Dad had never hugged, not once since he came to live with him and Gwen.

Still, he hugged back and breathed in Joyce’s scent, which hadn’t changed that much at all. It was strangely comforting. “Thank you for coming to see me” he said almost automatically, because that’s what one said when one had a visitor.

“Of course I did.” She hadn’t let go of his hands. “I was so worried when DI Thursday and Sergeant Jakes came to tell me… is there anything you need, Morse? Anything I can do?”

He thought about it, but shook his head. Joycie must have enough to do, now that she was grown; and he had a place here. “No, thank you. Everyone’s been very kind to me.”

“I’m glad.” Her eyes softened. “DI Thursday seems like a good man.”

“They’re all good people.”

“I am glad” she repeated, only unlike when Gwen said it, it was easy to tell that she actually meant it.

The door opened and Win appeared, carrying a tray. Morse moved to help her.

“Oh no, dear, that’s not necessary… you just sit down and have tea with your sister. That reminds me – Joyce – if I may call you Joyce – where are you staying?”

It quickly transpired that Win had everything under control, leading Fred free to resume his work.

Jakes didn’t lose a single word over the half hour he’d been forced to wait until his wife had convinced him that all was well, tea was going great, and she was about to tell “that dear girl” about this charming B & B two roads down, since she couldn’t persuade her to accept their hospitality…

As a matter of fact, the one thing he did venture forth during the drive was, “Sir, was there any indication that Morse’s memories might be coming back, now that his sister is here?”

Fred thought about it for a moment – of the brief glimpse he’d gotten – but then shook his head. “No. He was happy to see her like any boy would be, but that’s it.”

He wondered if he should tell Jakes about Morse’s dream, but that could mean anything, really. Best it keep between themselves for now.

So so so. Could’ve saved me a whole lot of time if I’d just checked out the Thursdays in the first place – but too risky... well, now I know where he is.  

Chapter Text

They’d put the pictures of Henderson up on the back board (still organized as Morse would have done it; some habits were hard to break, Fred thought, before realizing that he’d only been gone – well, not gone, but his adult self at least – bloody hell, this was confusing – a few days).

“Alright, so he’ll look something like this. Probably” Jakes said. “But how do we explain that we’re holding a twelve-year-old?”

“I’ve talked to Mr. Bright” Fred, who’d been to see the superintendent as soon as they’re returned to the station, explained. “We’ll keep it secret for as long as we can. If we find Henderson, we’ll hopefully soon know how he does it, and there’s no reason to think Doctor DeBryn can’t perform the procedure. It worked quickly with Morse, and really, if someone like Henderson can do it…”

Jakes nodded. “So we wait?”

It seemed to be all they could do.

God, what a mother hen. Why does she always have to hang around the precious boy?

Yes, it’s kinda like me old mum, but that’s different. He’s not even hers to begin with –

Did Old Man Thursday tell her to be on her guard? No, that’s genuine fondness, it’s easy to tell.

It just makes this a bloody chore.

Joyce had eventually left to find the B & B, but was invited for dinner; after declining to sleep at their place, she probably felt that she couldn’t refuse, but Win was still glad. Endeavour would enjoy spending more time with his sister, and certainly Joan and Sam wanted to meet her too.

“She’s a very nice young woman” she told the boy as they cleaned up the tea cups.

“I – I still think of her as a baby” he admitted. “She is very nice, but… it’s... it’s weird.”

“I think anyone would consider this an unusual situation dear” she pointed out. “Nothing you have to blame yourself for.”

“I’m glad Gwen didn’t come with her” he blurted out then immediately began to explain, “I mean, she and I… we don’t really get… I…”

“It’s alright, Endeavour, I figured das much.”

Although she still couldn’t say that she thought much of his stepmother. First of all, it was hardly the boy’s fault that his father had been married before ever meeting this Gwen; and then, once you married someone, you had to take care of their children. They were a package deal.

If, for example, Endeavour hadn’t happened to be her husband’s bagman, but his and Constance’s child due to some unforeseen circumstances, Win wouldn’t have thought twice about taking him in and taking his mother’s place, provided that was what he would have wanted.

“I’ve been trying to be grateful to her” he then confided and Win realized that seeing his sister must have focused his mind on what, from his perspective, had been the last few difficult months. “She didn’t have to take me in.”

Again, Win very much disagreed with that.

“And I really tried. I mean, I really did. But everything I did – it just – I never could get anything right. I’d fold the laundry wrong, or not dry the plates enough, or I’d simply be in the way of whatever Gwen wanted to be doing. And then I was too quiet, or too loud, or not careful enough with the baby…”

Had she taken in a child or gotten a cleaner? Win didn’t like the sound of this at all.

If she hadn’t already decided that she would keep him with them until this situation could be resolved – one way or the other – this would have made it necessary.

“I am sure you did your best, dear.”

“But then why” he asked, looking at her, and to her dismay there were tears in his eyes, “was it never good enough?”

“I can’t tell you” she replied. It was a bit of a fib – she could very well imagine what had gone wrong. In short, Gwen had wanted him to be wrong.

But she wouldn’t say that to his face. Instead she reached out to fix his collar once more. “Some people just don’t get along through no fault of their own.”

(Or because they decided they didn’t want to deal with a grieving child even though it should have been their duty as well as their pleasure to help them in any way they could).

“Why don’t you go listen to some of your music, dear? That always used to make you feel better” she suggested.

He nodded then, to her surprise (she’d always assumed Morse was a bit the solitary type, preferring to brood alone) he asked “Would you like to join me?”

His eyes were begging her to do just that, so how could she refuse?

It had been WPC Trewlove’s idea to show the pictures to the experts they’d already asked about the procedure, since they might have noticed the boy hanging around if he was running low on supplied and trying to get more; Lord knew Henderson had never hesitated to take what wasn’t his.

Professor Greer was working away in his study, but that was probably no surprise. Fred had met many dons like that, never married, but having made their college their life.

He studied the pictures but could only shrug. “I am sorry, Inspector. I’m afraid even if I saw him in a crowd, I’d be unlikely to notice him – I’m much more focused on people my students’ age.”

It was fair enough, but wouldn’t help them in the long run.

Doctor Anderson did her best to memorize the pictures, since she too didn’t recognize them but promised to be on the lookout (although Fred still couldn’t say if this was because she was rather curious about the procedure and how it worked or if she genuinely wanted to help. Well, if it helped them find a way out of this mess, he wouldn’t mind one bit).

Professor Tobin was even less of a help, simply staring at their supposed delinquent and shrugging. “Really, Inspector, one twelve-year-old looks just like any other one to me.”

Fred really really wanted to tell him that wasn’t true. He was sure he could have picked Endeavour out of a million other redheads, no matter the distance.

Three down, one to go.

The trouble was that they didn’t find Malak immediately because, as his assistant gleefully informed them., he was always busy.

And what did all those scientists think they police were doing? Twiddling their thumbs all day long?

Eventually, Trewlove spotted him dashing across one of the courts of Lonsdale and quickly grabbed him so they could talk for a minute or two.

As impatient as ever (so it hadn’t been a bad day for them to talk to him, he just considered all of this underneath him), he barely even looked at what they had to show him before declaring he had more imprinting things to do than “look out for boys who should really be in school” before dashing off again.

Fred wondered if it was just him, but then he saw Trewlove’s unimpressed expression. “I don’t think he’s ever looking out for his fellowmen” he supplied.

She shook her head. “You’d think that some of them cared… I mean, science can be used to make the world a better place, sir.”

It could, but it could also turn his bagman back into a child against his will. “Yes, well, but at least they now know what to look for.” Whether they would do so or not. “We should probably check out Henderson’s known haunts just to be sure.”

They didn’t succeed, but it felt good to do something.

Joan and Sam, when Endeavour told them about Joyce, were very enthusiastic about meeting her.
“About time. You boys have been occupying everything lately” Joan complained, but when he tried to apologize (and to understand what they had done wrong in the first place) she only laughed and Sam ruffled his hair again, so he figured everything must be alright.

He hoped Joyce would like Win’s cooking – not because he thought many people wouldn’t, but because he didn’t really know her. He knew the baby he’d left behind, but she’d still been feeding on formula. Now and then, Gwen had let him feed her. She’d squealed and smiled and one time, made him drop the spoon by swiping at it, but he’d cleaned it up before Gwen had noticed, so it had even been fun.

Win let him help her in the kitchen again, which was nice because it meant he didn’t have too much time to think. Gwen always told him he brooded too much, that he shouldn’t be, and although Win and the others didn’t seem to have a problem with it, he knew he would just worry that Joycie wouldn’t fit in.

He shouldn’t have. She came in, hugged him again, then greeted Joan and Sam, and was at home in five minutes.

About a quarter op an hour after they had settled down for dinner, DI Thursday came home, and Win hastened to greet him. “No, no, dear, stay seated – just enjoy your meal.”

He sat down again, already having been ready to help him with his coat and hat.

Joyce smiled at him somewhat sadly. “That’s just how I remember you. So helpful. You taught me letters long before I went to school, you know.”

It sounded like something he would enjoy.

“I’m not surprised. He’s got more books in our room than I’ve read in my entire life” Sam chimed in.

“Yes, well, some of us are not as uncouth as you” Joan announced, nudging him.

He and Joyce had never been like that – but then, again, she’d still been a baby, last thing he remembered – maybe they would have turned out like this eventually, how knew?

DI Thursday soon joined them, and it was easy to see that there was no news.

Morse rather decided this was a good thing.

He already had to deal with quite a lot tonight.

Somehow, Win contrived to have him and Joyce have tea alone in the living room again after dinner. He was never quite sure how she managed it. She could be very sneaky when she wanted to be. But of course she always used her powers for good.

“Morse, I know this is scary” Joyce suddenly began and he realized this must be something she’d been wanting to tell him for quite a while, “But I am glad you have a place here with the Thursdays. You can always come stay with me and Mum again, of course, though, if you wanted.”

“I’d rather stay here” he admitted, and she looked at him with understanding in her eyes before taking his hand and squeezed it.

“I know, I know, Mum can be…” she sighed. “Difficult. But still, if you should ever need me, I’ll be there for you. I promise.”

“Thank you, Joycie.”

She smiled and kissed his cheek. “Everything will be fine, I promise.”

“I’m sure DI Thursday will find something soon” he told her, even though as he reflected on the evening later after they had bid Joyce goodbye and all gone to bed, he couldn’t help but feel that he was rather happier here than he could remember being in the last few months, since…

Well.

Who was that girl? Can’t be a specialist, too young for that: What do they think they’re doing with their colleague? The Old Man patted his shoulder when the waved the lass goodbye. Patted him like a dog, and he seemed to enjoy it, too.

Well, enjoy it while it lasts, kid, because you’re about to find yourself in a very different place.

It was his own fault, Morse would later conclude. He’d woken up first of the family, put the kettle on and decided to get some fresh air in the garden.

Her really shouldn’t have done.

Some twig behind him snapped, but before eh could turn around, there was pain on the side of his face and then nothing but darkness.  

Chapter Text

Fred would fail to forgive himself for not realizing something was wrong the second he woke up. Logic be damned, he’d always be convinced that he should have felt something, or rather someone, was missing from their home.

But instead, he woke up, was rather happy to see Win was still asleep once again, and went downstairs, convinced he was the first one of the Thursdays to do so.

The kettle being on the stove was a bit of a surprise, but even then, he wasn’t too worried. After all, whoever had put it on could have gone to the bathroom or into the garden.

As a matter of fact…

He took a glance outside, and it was only then that he realized.

Because right there, on some white flowers, were drops of blood.

He told himself to stay calm. There were no other signs of a struggle, and it could be animal blood after all. Maybe a cat had gotten a bird or a mouse or…

He all but ran up the stairs.

Joan bolted up ion bed when he wrenched open her door, but he didn’t stop to explain as he hastened to Sam’s and Endeavour’s room.

The boy’s bed was empty. “Where’s Endeavour?” he snapped at Sam, who was only just getting his bearings and blinking at his father.

“I – don’t know. Isn’t he downstairs?”

“Fred? What is that I hear about Endeavour?”

Of course Win would wake up immediately.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and turned to face the woman he loved to tell her the boy she doated on had most likely been kidnapped.

Superintendent Bright reacted immediately and only a short while later their team was assembled at their house.

There was precious little they could do, however.

Joan and Win had admitted that they’d felt like they were being watched, obviously feeling very guilty, but there as nothing they could have done, considering Endeavour had been snatched from their garden, and Fred had a rather good idea who was responsible in any case.

“What I don’t get” Jakes, who was nervously smoking cigarette after cigarette, finally said, “Is why Henderson would snatch Morse. He can’t be of any use to him, can he?”

“Maybe it’s not Henderson” Fred realized. “Maybe it’s whoever has helped him making this possible in the first place.”

“Henderson has always been more of a lackey” Strange agreed. So far, he’d mostly kept in the background, content with helping run the station. Fred hadn’t thought much about it, but he now realized that he must have kept himself away from Morse simply because he had no idea how to approach him, for he’d come running the second he’d hear he was in danger.

“Right. The question is, where could he have taken him?”

Endeavour, although he knew much better than to say so in front of Win, was something of a twig; he would not be difficult to carry wherever Henderson wanted.

As he had expected, no one had a satisfying answer to his inquiry.

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was that he was very cold.

Then he realized he couldn’t move.

Then he became aware that he couldn’t see either (although he quickly came to the conclusion this must have to do with the blindfold around his eyes).

And then he grew very scared.

He’d only just put the kettle on. What had happened? He’d wanted to take a round in the garden, like he’d seen Win do, hadn’t he?

“Ah, our guest is awake. Took you long enough to find him, Mr, Henderson.”

“Couldn’t know for sur Old Man Thursday took him with him” came a grunted response. “And I didn’t want to risk being seen near his house…”

“I am not interested in your excuses” the other man said sharply.

The blindfold was yanked away from him without any care for his comfort, and he realized he was lying on a cot in front of two men, one of whom he’d never see before, the other he now recalled dimly at having run away from him when all of this had first begun. Henderson, DI Thursday had called him, Frank Henderson.

“Hello there” the unknown man said, leaning down with what he probably assumed was an encouraging smile, only that it was somewhat ruined by the coldness of his eyes. “You must be Endeavour.”

“I prefer Morse”. At least from anyone but the Thursdays.

The Thursdays. He really hoped the man hadn’t done anything to them. But they were all grown-ups, and there were four of them. And DI Thursday was police…

Surely he would find him? They must already be looking for him.

“Well, Morse, through the fault of our friend here, you are about to help me make history.”

He tried to get mor comfortable on the cot. Maybe if he kept them talking… “What’s going on?” he asked quietly.

He laughed, but it wasn’t a nice laugh, not like Sam or Joan or Win or even DI Thursday when he was feeling affable. No, this was a laugh for no one but the man himself. “Well, you must have noticed some changes in yourself… and quite frankly, the opportunity is too good to sit out. I’ve been wanting to try my formula on a subject that would then be turned young both in body and mind for some time, but of course none of my colleagues would understand me. Ethics and all that.”

Morse didn’t know much about ethics, but he also considered this plan rather bad. “I never asked to be turned back into a boy” he said because he was reasonably certain that must be true.

“Yes but you were. And now I can finally prove my theory that the effects reach far, far wider than simply a rejuvenation of certain cells. I can show the world that what I have created actively affects the brain!”

Affects the brain? But how could he possibly prove that –

Morse suddenly became aware of the Gladstone bag that was sitting next to a – to a –

He supposed he would have called it an operating table.

And his fear turned into panic.

“You find our boy” Win had said, her eyes blazing. “You go and find our boy, Fred. We’ll stay here, wait for news – and Joyce; she needs to know what happened. You go find Endeavour.”

And that was exactly what he was going to do. If only he knew where to begin.

Their team had met up in the squad room, Superintendent Bright and Doctor DeBryn joining them.

“Alright, let’s assume it’s either Greer himself or one of the other specialists he told us about” Fred said for lack of any better ideas.

They could have checked them all, but time was of the essence.

Somehow, he didn’t think Greer was involved personally; he could feel it in his bones. But it could be any of the others…

“What do we know of them?” Bright asked. “Anything special about any of them?”

“Anderson’s got two kids and is happily married” Jakes, who’d taken responsibility for the background checks, said. “Somehow I can’t picture her running around with someone like Henderson.”

Fred agreed, but that still left two of them…

“Malak’s pretty impolite, but that doesn’t have to mean anything. And there’s all those slices in his office, but that’s not really a sign that someone is ready to kidnap a child…”

“Tobin only really has that one statue in his office” Fred remembered. “Some sleeping young bloke.”

“I am sorry, Inspector, what was that?” Doctor DeBryn asked.

“Tobin has a statue of a sleeping young man in his study –“

“Endymion” he breathed.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Endymion. He was a handsome shepherd-prince loved by the moon-goddess Selene. When Zeus offered him his choice of destinies, Endymion chose immortality and youth in eternal slumber.”

“So you are saying – he chose to remain young forever” Jakes clarified.

DeBryn nodded. “It’s not much –“

“It’s more than we’ve had so far” Fred said because it was true. There was nothing else he could possibly think of, and as long as it led them to Endeavour…

“I assure you, Mr. Morse, I bear you no ill will. In many ways, you are just the victim of circumstance.”

He really didn’t understand how that was meant to make him feel better. “But I didn’t do anything” he said helplessly.

“That’s what I meant.”

“But – what do you even hope to achieve?” he tried. Sometimes grown-ups didn’t make sense, but when you asked, they explained things. Like Win or DI Thursday did.

“A scientific breakthrough” the man answered as if it was obvious even though it wasn’t. “Mr. Henderson, would you please strap him down on the table?”

He tried to put up a struggle, even though it was hopeless. He wondered whether he had been stronger as an adult, and suddenly realized that he had never even asked to see a picture of the man he had become. And why was he even wondering about that now, when that man was about to cut his skull open?

He felt queasy as Henderson manoeuvred him onto the table.

“You won’t feel a thing” the other man assured him. “You’ll just go to sleep.”

“And never wake up” he sobbed because he couldn’t help it. He was scared and feeling very, very alone.

“Well then, Mr. Henderson –“

“Now wait a moment” Henderson suddenly said, still holding Morse down.

He sighed as if he did not have time for this. “What is it?”

“He’s a child.”

“He was trying to arrest you – and might I remind you that it’s your fault he’s at his current age?”

“But I didn’t think… I mean, he is a boy –“

“A boy who will do great things for science.”

“But he’ll get hurt…”

“Aren’t we in this mess because you hurt somebody?”

Henderson’s grip on Morse tightened, but not because he was trying to hurt him – no, he was clearly struggling to stay calm. “She fell.”

“That’s what you’re saying. I am sure the police would disagree – I am sure Mr. Morse here would disagree, don’t you?”

“I don’t remember” he answered honestly. “But if it is how Mr. Henderson says, I am sure DI Thursday would understand –“

“Old Man’s put me away more times than I can count.”

He swallowed, thinking of the Thursdays, wondering how they had reacted when they’d realized he was gone. Unbidden, a few tears welled up in his eyes and ran down his cheeks.

“Hey, now. None of that.”

He got the impression that Henderson was actually trying to comfort him, even as the other one was preparing the syringe that would send him to a sleep he’d never wake up from.

“Please” he forced out, still crying, because it was all he could do. “Please don’t do this.”

“Look” Henderson tried, “It’ll all be over soon. You heard Tobin – you won’t feel a thing.”

So now at least he knew the name of the man who’d kill him, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

“Don’t call me by my name, you idiot” – Tobin hissed. “Although I suppose it doesn’t matter now. Hold his arm, would you?”

“Please” he tried again. “Please, no. I don’t want to die.”

Henderson reached out for his wrist, then hesitated.

Tobin approached them with a syringe and he cleared his throat. “Now wait a second. I have an old aunt…”

Tobin rolled his eyes. “And why should I care about your dear auntie?”

“Because the last time she saw me… well, I don’t visit her often with, you know, everything but… she said to me, that time – she said I don’t know where to draw the line, and I suppose she was right. Because I didn’t know, but I know now.” He let go of Morse’s wrist. “I draw the line at harming children, doesn’t matter if they used to be adults or not.”

Chapter Text

Fred called Anderson, hoping for more information.

“Inspector, what is this about, I’m afraid I am rather –“

“A child is in danger, Professor” he interrupted her. “Have you seen Doctor Tobin today?”

“Tobin? No, why – I don’t think –“

“This is important, Professor” he urged. “Is there any place – does he have a study away from college somewhere?”

“I – I know the college keeps a few put-of-repair buildings in the west of town. He might have gone there. I don’t know.”

He thanked her and hung up.

It was quickly decided that he, Jakes and Trewlove would check the place out; Superintendent Bright probably guessing there was no way that Fred would stay behind.

“What do you mean, drawing the line? You were perfectly fine with everything else.”

“But this is a child” Henderson insisted, moving so he stood between Morse and Tobin. “You can’t harm a kiddie.”

He turned to look at Morse for a second. “Gonna get you out of here, boy.”

“Thank you” he said weakly, not quite understanding what was going on. But at least things seemed to be turning in his favour.

There still was Tobin, though, and he still had the syringe, and Morse was strapped to the table.

Henderson, who clearly was not the cleverest of criminals (at least in Morse’s opinion) then turned his back to him and started undoing the straps he’d only shortened a minute or so ago. “We’re leaving, boy. Not gonna take you to the police station, but I’ll drop you off somewhere you can ask for help, alright?”

“Mr. Henderson –“ he tried (seriously, how had he not realized?) but he was too late. Henderson’s face morphed into a mask of pain and, as his body contorted, Morse saw that the syringe was protruding from somewhere underneath his left shoulder blade.

Somehow, he still managed to untie Morse than grunted, “I guess that makes us even. Run, kid.”

He didn’t wait to see Henderson attack Tobin even as the sleeping stuff (whatever it was) was slowly making its way through his veins; he simply did what he was told and ran.

Against his wishes, Jakes drove. Fred knew it was for the best, but he would have gotten them there faster.

“What if it wasn’t Henderson who wanted Morse?” Trewlove suddenly began. “What if it was Tobin?”

“But what for?”

“Well he is a scientist…” she said somewhat helplessly and all Fred’s fears of Endeavour being dissected to find out what had happened came rushing back. Oh God, no. They’d sworn to keep him safe, and now look at this.

God, if only Jakes would drive faster.

He had no idea where he was. The building was somewhat bigger than he had expected, and he was running through yet another corridor.

What if he wasn’t even in Oxford anymore? He couldn’t even be sure it was still the same day… what if they had drugged him, and more than once at that? Tobin, as Henderson had called him, clearly had no problems with doing something like that…

But Morse couldn’t allow himself to think like this. In the books he read, the heroes even if they didn’t know what to do, never hesitated, never stood still when they were being followed.

And so he did the same.

And then he had an idea.

Fred stared at the grey clutter of buildings.

Bloody hell.

God alone knew how long it would take them to search them all.

“How long did Superintended Bright say we should wait for reinforcements?” Jakes began, clearly worried as well.

But Fred hadn’t listened, as he felt certain both Jakes and Trewlove had known from the beginning he wouldn’t. Waiting for reinforcements – their boy was in danger, and he’d promised Win that he’d bring him back safely.

He never saw Jakes and Trewlove indeed share a resigned look as they moved to follow him.

But then, he wouldn’t have cared anyway, because suddenly, a window on the fourth story opened and all he saw were those well-known russet curls.

And then Endeavour called out his name.

A signal, Morse decided he had to give a signal. He was more or less trapped in this building with Tobin, but that didn’t mean no one was outside maybe walking their dog or going for a walk – perhaps he could shout for them to call the police.

What he saw when he managed to open the first window he came across after his decision was even better.

For the first time, he didn’t even think about it and simply called out “Fred!”

“Endeavour!” he shouted back. “We’re coming to get you! Stay where you are!”

That was easier said than done. Endeavour didn’t know where Tobin was – he could be in the next room – or what had become of Henderson, although he rather suspected he wouldn’t be moving for a while yet.

But DI Thursday had told him to wait, so that was what he would do.

After thinking about it, he decided to stand right next to the door that, if it was thrown open, it would hide him. He’d read about such a trick once although he didn’t remember where…

He hadn’t been a second too early, for almost immediately, the door opened. Certainly, it was much too soon for DI Thursday and the others to have found him. He held his breath just in case –

Yes. It was Tobin. These weren’t DI Thursday’s carefully measured steps, although he too moved as if he had the leisure to do so.

He knows I don’t know the way out, he realized, and he isn’t aware they’re here.

He was still holding his breath. The time it took Tobin to cross the room and enter another seemed to stretch before him but finally, he could take a deep breath. And another. And another.

DI Thursday is coming. Don’t run. If you run now, he might hear you…

And so, he very slowly and carefully crept out from behind the door and decided the best course of action was to go into the opposite direction of Tobin. Maybe he could even find the others before they found him…

He’d only made it three steps into the corridor he had only run through such a short time ago when an iron grip landed on his neck.

“You’re clever, boy” Tobin murmured. “But not that clever.”

This was clearly one of the building that had been erected in bygone times when no one considered the comfort of their students. Long, windy corridors, endless rooms – all of them now duty and in disrepair.

Well, maybe not all.

They entered a room and immediately found the man who, in may ways, was the cause of all this lying on the floor.

“Jakes –“

He had already kneeled down but shook his head upon taking his pulse. “He’s dead, sir.”

Dead. Tobin – it had to be. But why would he kill his accomplice?

Fred stared at the operating table and had a terrible hunch what it was supposed to be used for.

They had to find Endeavour and Tobin. Now.

They didn’t need to communicate, instead moving as one.

“Where is Henderson?” he wheezed out, even as Tobin’s grip on him tightened.

“That fool got what he deserved”.

Tears welled up in his eyes. While Henderson was the reason he was like this in the first place, he’d also let him go. It felt like it was his fault that he was dead.

“Hm, reaction of the tear glands…”

He wondered if Tobin even knew that he didn’t sound human anymore.

“You really are a boy, aren’t you? Never was sure that, without the extra ingredient, this would work so splendidly. It was always more of a safeguard, you see.”

A safeguard? What was he talking about? He was very scared, and feeling very small.

The pressure on his neck increased. Maybe that was how he wanted to kill him now, since he’d used the syringe on Henderson?

Then, suddenly, the pressure lessened somewhat, even though he still kept a firm grasp on his arm. “Brain needs to be fresh” he muttered to himself.

He tried to wriggle his way out but of course he wasn’t’ successful.

Suddenly, the door to the corridor flew open. “Endeavour!”

“One step further” Tobin said calmly “and I’ll snap his neck.”

Soon after Joan had been born, Fred’s nightmares had begun.

Of course he’d had nightmares before that as well – the usual confusing ones any copper would have – but once there had been Joan, they had focused on something terrible happening to huis child while he could only watch.  When Sam had arrived, the nightmares had occasionally included him as well.

Fred quickly realized that even his worst nightmares had been nothing compared to this reality.

He couldn’t even remember drawing his gun. “Let him go, Tobin.”

“Why would I? Our boy here represents a scientific breakthrough-“

“Yet you would hurt him?” Trewlove interjected form somewhere behind Fred.

“To get away? Of course. There can be others. The work is bigger than either of us.”

“What kind of work?” Fred barked, his eyes seeking Endeavour’s, trying to send him a message. Don’t worry, lad, we’ll get you out of here.

If only he could have felt as confident as he tried to make himself seem.

“You mean ruining the natural order of things?”

“Natural order?” Tobin smirked and Fred wished he could just pull the trigger, but of course he didn’t risk that. “Because from my point of view… Henderson liked to talk, Fred.”

Him using his first name felt like an insult.

“And look at him!” he seemed to grasp Endeavour even tighter and Fred never wanted to see that expression on his face ever again.

He was scared, of course, and in pain, and his eyes were beseeching him to do something, anything…

“All new clothes, and you all treated him like your own little pet, didn’t you? If you ask me, you like him better that way – wasn’t he just your bagman when he got turned?”

Fred looked at Endeavour again and now there was another fear in his eyes – the fear that they had only been nice to him because he had been small and helpless. “He was never just a bagman to me” he admitted quietly. “Let him go”.

“Again – why would I?”

And Fred realized that he truly meant to kill their boy, if they couldn’t get away.

And then he remembered something, something from a report from a case that seemed like so long ago now…

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!” he quoted.

Endeavour’s eyes widened ever so slightly.  

“What are you talking about!?” Tobin demanded.

“The jaws that – “ Fred added and comprehension dawned in his eyes.

With one quick movement of his neck, he’d born down on the hand around his breast cage and bit down hard.

Tobin shouted and Endeavour managed to move away, just enough to give Fred an opening.

He pressed the trigger.

He hit Tobin’s shoulder but couldn’t have cared less as Endeavour ran towards him.

He scooped him up into his arms.” It’s alright now” he muttered into the shaking boy’s hair. “I’ve got you, son. I’ve got you.”

“Fred” he pressed out in a quivering voice.

“I know. I know.”

Tobin was clutching his shoulder but had somehow managed to stay upright. His face was a mask of fury and disappointment. “This doesn’t mean you’ve won,” he grit out.

And he turned around and ran.

“Jakes! Trewlove” he barked. Not that it was necessary; they were already moving after him.

Fred concentrated back on Endeavour, trying to ascertain whether he was hurt. “Endeavour? Son? I need to ask you a few questions. Did he hurt you in any way?”

He mumbled “Henderson knocked me out” against his breast then suddenly wrenched himself out of Fred’s grasp. “He killed Henderson! And it’s all my fault!”

“Now” he somehow managed to reply “I am sure that’s not –“

He was interrupted by an explosion that shook the entire building.

Chapter Text

Fred’s mind was going a mile a minute.

First things first. “Endeavour, do you think you’d find your way out on your own?”

He miserably shook his head then announced, with just a hint of his Lincolnshire dialect, “I wanna stay with you.”

They had no time to discuss this, and they had to make sure Trewlove and Jakes were fine.

Fred took a deep breath and reached for his hand, any distance between them long forgotten. “Alright. But I tell you to run, you run, do you understand, son?”

He nodded and they set off. Fred was once more reminded of the strength of youth; normally he would have expected a little chap to have trouble keeping up, but if anything, Endeavour was almost too fast for him.

Warm, heavy air greeted them and Fred smelled smoke.

They soon enough came across their colleagues, Trewlove pressing a handkerchief against Jakes’ head.

Endeavour’s breath caught in his throat and Fred remembered his aversion to blood. “What happened?”

“Iron pole lying about. He managed to hit Jakes with it” Trewlove reported.

“I’m fine, sir” Jakes announced even though he looked a bit pale, but they could worry about that once they wee all in safety.

“Can you make it outside?”

“Yes” Jakes announced.

“Good. Take Endeavour and go”.

“But –“ he started to protest and Fed grasped his shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes.

“Endeavour, you said you’d run when I told you to, and right now, that’s what I need you to do. Trewlove and Jakes will take care of you; I have to see what happened to Tobin. It’s my duty.”

He peered up into his face, looking pale and scared, then nodded.

Fred watched him start moving with his two colleagues, then ran towards the heat.

Using his handkerchief to shield himself, he wrenched the door open. Almost immediately, the temperature became nearly unbearable.

It only took him a glance to realize they were In Tobin’s laboratory – probably hadn’t trusted his colleagues at university not to come shopping so he’d set up here – and that the one who was responsible for this mess was standing in the middle of it, stiff and unmoving.

When Fred stepped fully into the room, his eyes – the eyes of a madman – snapped to his face and he laughed. “It’s very noble of you, Fred, but I won’t be needing your services any time soon.”

“I hereby accuse you of –“

“You really think I’ll allow you to take you with me? No. What I could have done with the boy –“

“So you admit sending Henderson to kidnap Endeavour, then?” Fred was trying to stall for time, and they both knew it.

“I will only admit to one thing: You ruined it all”.

He was bloody glad to have done so. “Mr. Tobin – “

“Professor Tobin, I have to insist.”

If it got them out of here – “Professor, I have to demand that you –“

“Oh no Fred, I won’t allow you to take me with you, or for anyone else to look at my work and complete it.”

“It shouldn’t be completed” Fred argued. “It never should have been attempted in the first place.”

“So you didn’t enjoy playing house with the boy? That’s not what Henderson told me.”

He grit his teeth as he felt the flames come closer and closer. “We need to get out of –“

“You might try, although I should warn you that this room is going to be wrecked by another explosion in just a few moments”. And then, without any last words, he turned around and walked right into the flame. Fred moved to follow, but the heat was too great, and with what Tobin had said –

There was nothing left for him to do but run.

He’d made it about two corridors down when a deafening explosion rang out, shaking the building. Fred stumbled against the wall, breathing in smoke and coughing.

His eyes were tearing up, but he knew he couldn’t stop, and kept moving.

The first breath of fresh air felt like manna from heaven, and he took a few greedy breaths before he heard.

“Fred!”

“Kid, you need to stay put.”

“But Fred is still –“

He blinked towards the noises, realizing that Jakes had some troubles holding Endeavour back.

The boy saw him and his face crumbled with relief. “Fred!”

And before he could move any further towards them, he’d already crossed the distance and thrown himself into his arms, bursting into tears.

“There, there” he coughed, rubbing his back. “I’m fine.”

“Sir?” Trewlove and Jakes joined them.

“We need to get away from here. The fire –“

“I’ve called the fire brigade, sir” Trewlove said. “They should be on their way.”

He nodded as they returned to the car, Endeavour still clinging to him, although by now his sobs had quieted down into whimpers. “I have to get him home”. Another coughing fit following that announcement made it clear he was in no fit shape to drive.

Trewlove and jakes traded a glance. “If Sergeant jakes stays here, he can tell the others and let his head be checked when the others arrive” she said.

Fred nodded. “Excellent. Jakes, can you hold down the ford?”

“Yes, sir, it’s really only a bruise.”

“Was bleeding” Endeavour muttered against Fred’s breast. “If it’s bleeding it’s not a bruise.”

God, he needed to get him to Win as soon as possible. He simply nodded at his sergeant and got into the back seat with their boy.

On the way, Endeavour quietly said, “I’m sorry.”

Fred, who’d been busy coughing, asked, “What for?”

“It’s all my fault. You wouldn’t have been in the fire if I hadn’t been – “

“You were kidnaped. That is not your fault” he said firmly. “Tobin was a madman who wanted to change the very course of nature. None of this had to do with you.”

“Henderson helped me get away” he muttered instead of giving him a direct answer. “And he killed him for it.”

So he had done the right thing at the end. It still didn’t make Fred feel particularly sorry – after all, the man had kidnapped Endeavour and up until this point he had been a willing participant – but he would give him credit where it was due. “That was his decision. You wouldn’t have been able to help him, no matter what.”

Endeavour didn’t answer, instead looking out the window, kneading his hands.

Fred didn’t like that defeated slump to his shoulders at all, so he reached out to envelop his small hands in his big one. “Oy, I can’t tell you how glad I am you’re alright. Or Win or Joyce or Joan or Sam – They’ve all been frantic.”

At least he was sure of that even though he hadn’t waited until his sister showed up. Joyce would have been panicked as well.

He looked at Fred; there were still tears in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

Fred squeezed his hands. “Of course not. We all know that.”

Finally, something like a smile crossed his face. “Thank you for finding me.”

“Any time, son, any time.”

Trewlove had barely stopped the car when their front door flew open and their family plus Joyce spilled out of the house. Fred couldn’t even say who opened the car door, but within moments, Endeavour had been pulled into Win’s eager arms. “Endeavour!”

“Win” he said quietly as she started to fuss over him, rather concered about the bruise on his cheekbone. Joyce was scarcely better, having grasped his shoulder and not letting go; and Joan and Sam were busy trying to get closer.

I almost burned alive, by the way, Fred thought, but without any heat in it. Of course they wanted to make sure that Endeavour was alright.

He said something else in a low voice and Win raised her head to take Fred in. “What happened, love?” she exclaimed, and he realized he must be quite the sight.

“Let’s get inside, and we’ll talk.”

Trewlove as of course invited as well.

By the time they had all entered the kitchen, Joan was already putting the kettle on.

Fred made clear what had happened in a few precise sentences, while Win ushered Endeavour upstairs to wash up.

He did look somewhat more at peace when her returned; her fussing clearly did him good.

It was characteristically Win who decided they should take their tea in the living room to be more comfortable.

That it ended in tears, Fred would later away insist, was not Joan’s fault; their girl simply wore her heart on her sleeve, and so she soon exclaimed, “I’m glad they’re dead.”

“Joan – ” he tried.

“What business did they have to try and attack Endeavour? They got what they deserved, in my opinion.”

“Mr. Henderson helped me” Endeavour replied quietly, reaching for his tea; but instead, he suddenly began to sob.

Joan was clearly struck. “I’m so sorry – Endeavour, no – she tried patting his back, but he turned to Win, who immediate took him into her arms again.

“He just needs to have a bit of a cry, Joanie – let it out, dear, let it out.”

He did as they could only watch; but finally, his tears subsided as Endeavour fell asleep with his head in Win’s lap and his feet in Joyce’s.

“Is he going to be okay?” Joan asked worriedly.

“Yes, love” Win said quietly, running her fingers through his hair. “This nap is just what the doctor ordered. Fred, I assume you have to go back to the station?”

He nodded reluctantly.

“You better wash and put on a new shirt, then.” She was still stroking Endeavour’s hair. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll take care of him.”

He knew they would.

Hours later, Fred came home, exhausted and wanting nothing more than a cup of tea and his bed.

But he knew there were other things he had to do first. A glance at his watch proved that it was just gone ten pm.

Win, Joan and Sam were waiting for him. “Joyce stayed until we put Endeavour to bed” his wife told him while kissing him hello, “He was exhausted and almost falling asleep at the dinner table. I left the door open and the lights on so he’ll know he’s home when he wakes up.”

Home.

Wasn’t that just the word.

Fred didn’t know what to answer – mostly because he didn’t know how he himself felt about what he had to tell them.

“What is it, Fred?”

He too a deep breath. “Let’s have tea.”

“no offense dad, but you look like you need something stronger” Joan said as Sam nodded along, as he often did when it came to his siter.

He had to agree with their girl.

Once they all had a drink and were sitting together in the living room, as they had done so often, he took a deep breath before announcing, “They found Tobin’s body… of course he couldn’t make it out.”

Joan muttered something like “Bloody good” but he ignored it.

“However there’s something else… his entire work was destroyed as well. It seems like he kept everything in that place; there wasn’t even a notebook concerning his experiments found in his rooms at college. Nothing. Henderson might have been able to help us, but he’s gone – and he doesn’t seem to have had any other accomplice. Everybody agrees he was a loner”.

“Dad, what are you saying?” Sam asked.

“There doesn’t appear to be a way to turn Morse back” he finally said it out loud. “The other experts might help, but frankly, after the chaos only one man caused…”

“So… he’ll have to grow up again”? Joan asked, her eyes wide.

He nodded. “We’ll have to figure out what to do –“

Win laid a hand on his arm. ”I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, Fred. If Endeavour wants, then he’ll have a home here with us – I think we all agree?”

The children nodded enthusiastically, and as Fred looked at the woman he loved, he couldn’t help but once more dwell on what a lucky fellow he was.

Chapter Text

Win offered to be the one to tell Endeavour, but Fred felt it was his duty. If he had never chosen Morse as his bagman, he wouldn’t have been where he was today; he wouldn’t have turned back into a twelve-year-old. It was his responsibility to deal with the fallout.

Endeavour slept through breakfast, which was only too understandable; Joyce came over shortly after they had finished. Joan and Sam called into work for a “family emergency” the second day in a row, but neither Fred nor Win found it in their heart to chastise them for it.

Nor was anyone surprised when Joyce knocked on their door a few minutes after nine.

Some time after that, they heard movement upstairs, and Fred took a deep breath and went to see Endeavour.

He’d apparently just gotten dressed and blinked at him a little sheepishly. “Sorry for oversleeping”.

“Never mind that now”. He sat down on his bed and beckoned for him to join him. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

He sat down, looking rather cautious.

“Tobin – the man who took you –“

Endeavour nodded.

“He’s dead.”

Another nod. Well, Tobin certainly didn’t deserve any tears.

“Trouble is, he also destroyed his work in the process.”

He really should have remembered that he was talking to one of the cleverest chaps he had ever met, for he simply looked at him and asked, “So I can’t get big again?”

“Not right now” he tried. “There are experts of course there’s no reason to think no one else can figure out what Tobin was doing…”

“But right now, I’ll stay like this.”

“Yes” he admitted. “And I can’t tell you how long it’ll last.”

He looked at him, then nodded. Maybe him being a boy was once more a good thing – he simply didn’t realize the enormity of what had happened.

Or maybe he did, for his next question was, “What’s going to happen now?”

“Why don’t we go downstairs. We can discuss it all then”.

He nodded and they repaired to the kitchen, where Win had naturally kept some of their breakfast for him; he obviously didn’t have much of an appetite this morning but did his best to finish his plate before his wife brought out the tea.

Endeavour was sitting between Win and Joyce, looking a little bit pale, but really who could blame him for it.

“Now” Win began, “What do you want, dear?”

He blinked at her, clearly not used to adults asking what he wanted, and who could blame him? He’d been shipped off to his dad’s after his mum’s death without so much as a by your leave, and thinking about it, they’d more or less kidnapped him without asking anyone.

“I…” he helplessly looked at Win, then at Joyce, who smiled and nodded, as if she had an idea what he was about to say, and maybe she had – she was his sister, after all.

“I’d like to stay” he finally said quietly. “With all of you. If I may. I don’t mean – Joycie –“ he turned to her.

“It’s alright” she said simply. “I don’t think Mum and you would be a good fit”.

Not to mention that she was a young woman trying to make her own way in the world and shouldn’t be expected to raise her older brother on top of that.

“Of course you can stay with us!” Win declared. “We’d be delighted, wouldn’t we?”

Joan and Sam, who’d been silent until now, loudly agreed, and Endeavour looked at them all in turn, his eyes rather shiny.

Win drew him close. “No matter what happens, you’ll always have a home here, Endeavour. I promise you that.”

He buried his head in her shoulder with a quiet sob. She rubbed his back.

“There will be a few details we need to work out but I’m sure we’ll figured it out somehow.”

He pulled back, apparently having calmed down. “Thank you.”

She brushed a stray tear of his cheek. “You don’t have to thank us, does he, Fred.”

“Of course not, son” he confirmed.

He looked at him and nodded.

Joyce stayed with them for the rest of the day, and between her, Joan and Sam, they soon had Endeavour smiling again. Win insisted that he stay with them in the living room instead of helping her with lunch “Just for today, dear” and so she and Fred had all the time in the world to talk.

“Never expected to have another child in the house again so soon” Fred said.

“Yes, well, it can’t be helped; and he’s such a dear boy. I’m sure he’ll be comfortable here. We just have to get used to it all.”

But, as the laughter of the children drifted through the house, Fred couldn’t help but think that it probably would take no time at all.

Luckily, Fred had made some connections through his work over the years, and soon after lunch, when Sam had dragged the rest of the children to the park again (he highly suspected him of wanting to make Endeavour and themselves forget the nightmare they’d been through) He called an acquaintance at the NSPCC.

It was all too easy to make up a story – an old friend of Win’s who’d sadly passed away and a father who didn’t care about his son from his first marriage – and them being eager and happy to take Endeavour in.

She was sympathetic – it probably helped that they’d met on a case a few years ago where Fred had managed to get a couple of siblings away from their drunkard of a father – and promised him that she’d do whatever it took to make sure the transition would be smooth.

Now all they needed were papers…

“You know, Inspector, what we are doing here might be considered rather illegal. Forgery, as a matter of fact.”

He knew better than to think Doctor DeBryn actually meant any of it. “Yes, well…”

“But I do want Morse to have a good home” he mused. “I’ll see what I can do.”

After deciding that he’d rather keep everything as close to their little circle as possible, it had been the only logical choice to go to DeBryn. He was the one most likely to being able to pull off a few forgeries.

Superintendent Bright had already hinted that he was ready to turn a few blind eyes if necessary.

While they were waiting for things to clear up, Endeavour became more and more part of the family. Whenever he could, he helped Win cook, and he and Joan had embarked on a veritable tour around the world in musical terms; as opposed to the bagman that had been taken from Fred, Endeavour listened eagerly to all sorts of songs and compositions, finding each more interesting than the last; he quickly became used to returning home to hearing them sing the newest hits. Sam meanwhile had taken it upon himself to ensure that there was lots of laughter and games. With Fred himself, there were long talks during which he quizzed him about his policework and other things a boy wanted to hear form – well, he supposed his dad.

Fred couldn’t help but think that this childhood was shaping up to be quite different than it had been the first time around, and he couldn’t have been bloody happier about it.

Barely two weeks after they had rescued him, Endeavour was officially a part of their family, or at least Fred and Win were, according to their documents, the ones responsible for raising him.

Win baked a cake – Endeavour, who’d discovered his love of baking, insisting on helping this time around – and Joyce came down to celebrate with them.

“I’ve decided to keep your old place” she told him.

Endeavour frowned. “But that’s going to be expen- “

“You don’t have to worry about that” she was quick to assure him. “After Dad – you helped us with his – well, you helped us so I have the money, and it’ll give me a place to stay when I visit you.”

He flushed with pleasure.

Win squeezed Fred’s hand under the table.

With everything in order, it was time for Endeavour to return to school, and there was no question that he’d visit Joan’s and Sam’s old one – and probably be ahead of all his classmates by the end of his first week, Fred thought proudly.

Yet, on the last evening before he was to go back to school, Sam came downstairs after dinner and announced, “Dad, can you talk to Endeavour? I think something’s bugging him but he won’t tell me or Joan.”

Immediately putting out his pipe he went to do just that.

Endeavour was listening to one of Joan’s Rolling Stones LPs, although he clearly wasn’t paying much attention, instead staring out the window.

“Endeavour? Everything alright?”

He turned around. “I’m going to school tomorrow.”

He nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“I – I didn’t really have any friends at my old school. I think the other boys… they thought I was strange, or weird, or too quiet, like Gwen –“

Ah. So that was what was wrong. “Yes, well, their own fault if they didn’t want to get to know you. And even if they don’t want anything to do with you now, you’ll have Joan and Sam and Joyce.”

His sister had made it a habit of visiting at least every other week, much to Endeavour’s joy.

And even now, when Fred mentioned the others, he smiled. “I suppose that’s true.”

“You can’t force people to like you” he shrugged. “God knows I’ve met many who never warmed up to me.”

Now Endeavour looked away, probably to hide another smile, and Fred knew all was well.

Despite feeling better after his and Fred’s talk, Endeavour couldn’t help but feel apprehensive as he and Win walked up to the school the next day.

“Now, dear, everything will be fine” she told him, gently fixing his collar. “You have your sandwich?”

“Yes, Win, thank you.”

She stayed long enough to bring him to his class, which he was thankful for.

The first thing in his favour was that it turned out that there was another new boy that day, so that not all focus was on him.

Still, he thought it best not to attract too much attention and stay quiet for the first few days. To sound out the place, Fred would have said.

And so, he decided to spend recess sitting on a bench and reading The Hound of the Baskervilles.

However, it was not to be.

He’d barely begun reading when a happy voice called out “Hey, you’re new too!”

He looked up to see the other newcomer, realizing he couldn’t quite place his accent. “Yes” he said for lack of anything else.

“So you don’t know anyone yet either!”

“It certainly appears that way.”

He laughed. “You’re funny.”  

That came as somewhat of a surprise. He knew he made the Thursdays laugh, but he often failed to do so with boys his own age.

“Me, me brother and our parents just moved here from Newcastle” ah so that was where his accent came from “I’ve never even been to Oxford before!” He grinned and then announced as if he’d had a great idea, “We can be friends!”

He would never have assumed that it could be so easy.

The boy held out his hand. “Robbie. Robbie Lewis. What are you reading??””

So far, Peter had kept away from the Thursdays, but now that everything had worked out and Morse’s first week of school was over and done with, he felt he should check up on them; and seeing as on this Saturday afternoon, they were called to a murder scene, he quickly used the opportunity to pick up DI Thursday.

Only for the door to spring open before he had even rung the bell and two boys almost running into him.

“Sorry, Sergeant Jakes!” That was Morse.

“Yeah, sorry!” that was another boy.

“Sorry” Sam, who was skipping after them, added, “A bit excited for the match today”. And with a punch on Jakes’ shoulder, he was after them.

DI Thursday followed them out of the house, looking amused. “Robbie. Nice chap. They’re set to be the next Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson, you know.”

There was nothing he could say to that, although it dispelled any worries he might still have harboured.

It was one of the days where he’d been called out just before breakfast – a double murder – and so hadn’t brought a sandwich with him.

He had expected that he’d eventually grab a bite to eat at the pub, but instead, Endeavour dropped by after school.

Thankfully, both Jakes and Trewlove who were in the squad room simply greeted him as they would any boy, and he smiled brightly. “Here, Fred. I told Win I’d bring it to you…”

“Thanks, son” he accepted the sandwich. “How was school?”

He started prattling on about Robbie and what they’d studied that day.

“Thursday, I – oh. Hello, Morse.”

Endeavour by now knew enough of Fred’s work to recognize the man who stood in front of him. “Hello, Mr. Bright. I just brought Fred his lunch.”

“Yes, that’s – that’s good.” He was clearly somewhat at a loss as how to address this young version of the constable he’d never been completely able to convince he liked him, either. “And, all well at school?”

He nodded. “Yes, thank you, sir. We’ve been going through the Magna Carta…”

And he started prattling away to Mr. Bright, wo was still studying him looking slightly out of sorts, too.

Fred had to suppress a smile.

The months flew by; over time it became almost difficult to believe that Endeavour hadn’t always lived with them, that there had once been a young constable who’d caught Fred’s attention.

Endeavour continued to strive, cook with Win, laugh and play with Joan and Sam, read more books than Fred ever had, and run around with Robbie whenever he could. It was his new best friend who gave him his nickname, too – he needed to shorten names and tried several versions from Deavour’  over ‘Cour and even Endy (which he had immediately vetoed) before settling on Dev.

Sometimes, it was true, especially in the mornings, there was a strange expression on his face, but it was usually gone as quickly as it came.

What a difference another family could make, Fred reflected that evening as he wanted Dev, his eyes happy and glowing, telling them about his day.

Just as they had finished dinner, the doorbell rang out.

It was late enough that Fred felt he should be the one to open the door.

Who he met was the last person he had been expecting to see. “Professor Greer?”

Chapter Text

Fred hadn’t thought of the man since they had closed Tobin’s case.

“Good evening, Inspector Thursday. May I come in?”

He moved to the side. Undoubtedly by now the others had started cleaning up the table, so he led him into the living room and asked whether he wanted anything to drink.

He accepted, then, as soon as they were seated, began, “I know you must be surprised to see me, but I have a very good reason. To make it short, Inspector – I know about your young guest.”

Well it couldn’t harm them now – their papers were all in order. “Is that so.”

“Yes. After you came to see me, I couldn’t help myself – I watched your house a few times, saw the boy with who I assumed were your children. I do have my contacts, and when I heard that a certain young constable hadn’t been seen in days, I put two and two together. The truth is – I know what Tobin did, and furthermore, I have every reason to believe he based it on my own studies. Therefore, I felt responsible – and spent the past six months trying to recreate Tobin’s experiments.”

When silence fell, Fred eventually asked, “And?”

“I have been successful. I can reverse the process”.

I can reverse the process. Fred needed a moment to grasp the implications of that.

Morse. Morse could get back to normal –

But what about Dev?

They were going to lose Dev.

Only not really, were they? Morse’d still be around, and it wasn’t as if they had ever been supposed to have Dev in the first place –

It’s his decision, he told himself firmly. It was always his decision.

“I understand that the boy is still with you?”

“Yes” Fred replied, steeling strangely defensive. “He’s been doing very well in school.”

Not to mention that he, Joan and Sam were now firmly established as partners in crime; or that he and Win had absolutely no secrets from each other; or that Robbie came over constantly, intent on spending time with his best friend.

And then there were his and Fred’s night talks. About three months ago, Dev had begun sneaking down after most of the family had gone to bed, at the time when Fred liked to have another pipe; and then the talked of life and the world and all things in between.

“That’s…” Greer trailed off, then shook his head. “My apologies. I have been so busy with the scientific side of things. I never considered that there were other things to deal with.”

He probably truly hadn’t. Fred knew the type – people who got so caught up in the things they knew, they never thought of other stuff.

“And he has shown no signs of returning to normal?”

What even was normal, Fred wondered rather sadly. Normal these days was him coming down and finding Win and Dev making breakfast. Normal was looking into the garden to find Robbie and Dev doing homework or playing tag or now and then reading books or one of Robbie’s comics. Normal was watching Joanie and Sammy trying to make Dev laugh and burn dinner.

But Greer didn’t mean that. No, he meant the normal six months ago, opening the door and seeing a young thin man with all the sadness of the world in his eyes. “No” he replied slowly. “He remembered one thing – his father’s death – but it didn’t really have an impact on how he perceives the world.”

“So he’s stayed a boy?” now Greer sounded intrigued.

“Yes.” He could have added that he was one of the cleverest, politest, best-mannered boys around, but what would that mean to Greer?

“Interesting.”

Undoubtedly, but had he really given Dev any thoughts at all while working on the project?

Not that Fred could feel very resentful… he was here to right a wrong.

The trouble was that he no longer felt that anything was wrong.

And then, suddenly, he thought of Morse, the Morse he had known.

In a way, Henderson had killed him, taken him away from them, from Oxford. For this young boy, so happy, so healthy – he wouldn’t grow up in the same way, and that meant Morse was gone.

Good God, he was getting a headache. “I think you should talk to Dev.”

Greer looked at him and nodded.

While the professor told Dev the truth, Fred di the same to his family.

“Just like that?” Joan exclaimed. “He can turn Dev back just like that?”

“Professor Greer seems to think so.”

Win had almost automatically risen to make tea, and Fred saw her hands were shaking.

She’s going to miss her boy, he suddenly thought, we all will.

“Nothing’s fixed yet” he said. “But I think we all agree that in the end, it’s Dev’s decision?” He hated himself for turning it into a question.

They all nodded, even if they appeared rather rejected as they did so.

How well Fred could understand them, and wasn’t he just a selfish bastard for it.

The next thing they heard from either Dev or Greer, their boy was escorting him to the door, like the polite chap he was.

Fred forced himself not to look out the kitchen; what they talked about was Dev’s business, just like whether he wanted to tell them or not.

He soon came into the kitchen, looking pale and thoughtful.

Win, without saying a word, immediately pulled him into her arms, of course.

When he pulled back he quietly aid, “I think I’ll have an early night.”

“Of course” she ran her fingers through his hair. “Sleep well, dear.”

There wasn’t much of a chance of that, as they all knew.

After the rest of his family had gone upstairs, Fred lit his pipe and tried to understand what he was feeling, and more importantly, what he wanted to happen next.

He had always been aware that he could be a bit possessive when it came to his own, but the vehemence with which he wanted to keep the boy took him by surprise.

And yet at the same time a voice inside of him insisted “What about Morse?” And of course it was right that it was so…

Then, suddenly, a quiet, young voice, “Fred? Can we talk?”

He looked up, not the least surprised to find Dev fleeing bed.

He was making tea when Dev started their talk by saying, “I have a confession to make.”

There were boys where Fred would immediately have been worried, but this was Dev – he’d never do something terrible on purpose. “Is that so?”

“I’ve – I’ve had more dreams. Memories, I suppose. Of my old life.”

That – he hadn’t expected that. But also, it made sense. It explained why he sometimes looked spooked in the morning. “Is that so” he repeated, putting a cup in front of him.

He nodded. “Only it’s like that first one – when I dreamed of Dad’s death. I know what happened, and I know what I felt, but I don’t really feel it.”

That was maybe for the best. “You mean – you remember getting injured –“

“Shot” he said flatly. “There’s the memory, but there’s no pain.”

Well, that., Fred had nothing against. “And what do you think?”

“I – I think –“ He looked at him then, and Fred was taken aback by the pain in his eyes. “He – he was sort of right, wasn’t he? Everyone likes me better this way.”

Oh God. Guilt crashed into Fred like a wave. Had he really given Morse that feeling – that he didn’t like him? Or had caused Dev to think that he preferred him as a boy? Had he been too quiet in his praise of Morse, too dismissive of the young constable when trying to describe or explain him? “What –“

“I remember not having seen Joycie in months, and now she’s coming to see me every other week” he interrupted him quickly. “I could barely bring myself to talk to Joan and Sam, or use their first names, not to mention Win, and now they’re my best friends. Speaking of – I never managed to make a real friend, and now me and Robbie are planning on joining the police together when we’re grown-up.”

That, Fred hadn’t known. What had those two gotten up to? It was downright adorable, really. “Yes, but –“

“Sergeant Jakes hated me, and Superintendent Bright didn’t like me either. You were the only one who wanted to work with me, and that was because I was a good detective.” He took a deep breath.” But I was a poor policeman, wasn’t I.”

God, what was he supposed to do? “We don’t like you better like this, Dev” he insisted. “Believe me.”

Dev looked him straight in the face and Fred swallowed a sip of tea as he considered how to explain it. “There’s a difference” he finally said, “What is considered acceptable when approaching an adult or approaching a ch- a boy. When you were grown, we worried – Win and I and Sergeant Jakes and Superintendent Bright and God knew how else – we still worried about you, for you. But we couldn’t just take you in and make sure you had a few homecooked meals. That’s not how it works.”

His lips twitched. “But you could have asked.”

“I could have” he admitted. “I should have. I’ve often thought that, maybe, if I had taken you home after your father’s death to rest up… but at the time, I felt I couldn’t just tell you to get in the car.”

“Grownups are complicated”.

“That they are” he agreed. “And as to the others… Win would always have been ready to care for you, but again, we couldn’t just ask you to let us. And Joan and Sam… that’s… complicated in a different way.”

“’Cause Joan’s so pretty?” he guessed, probably recalling his own little crush that had long since given way to treating her like his big sister.

“Exactly” he took the easy way out.” And Sam… well, you weren’t much a fan of his hobbies, so why should he talk to you about them? You didn’t have much in common.”

“But going to the matches is fun…”

“I’m glad you enjoy yourself, but you wouldn’t have back then” he tried. “Why, I doubt you’d even have been able to name our own national team captain –“

“Bobby Moore” he said immediately. “They won the last World Cup against the Germans 4-2”.

He nodded. “Again, it’s more complicated when you’re a grownup.”

Dev sighed like all children who had decided for themselves that they would definitely do things differently once they got around to be the grownups –

Which might be very soon, he told himself. “So, really, you shouldn’t base your decision on any such considerations” he tried. “We’ll still be there for you.” If you should wish it, he added silently, suddenly gripped by fear that Morse, once an adult again, would withdraw from them.

“Thank you” he said, and Fred had the feeling that he finally believed him. Good.

“It’s not just that” he then said, looking away from him again. “There was something you said to me when – on that day. About how – Tobin disrupted the course of nature, something like that. And it’s true, isn’t it? This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. I – this me – I’ve had my time, haven’t I. I grew up and all that. I took it away from big me, and the big me I will become won’t be that big me. I don’t know if I’ve got the right to stay where I am, whether I want it or not.”

What an adult point of view, but then Fred would have been surprised if it hadn’t been. He could only squeeze his shoulder in sympathy. “You don’t have to decide anything now, or even tomorrow, or next week. You can talk it over with Win, and Joanie and Sammy and Joyce… even Robbie might have an opinion.”

Another twitch of his lips.

Fred ruffled his hair. “For now, though, you should go back to bed; you know exactly what Win would say if she could see us”.

He laughed quietly under his breath and promised to try and get some rest.

Fred was left fervently praying that, no matter what he chose, their boy would be made happy by the path he’d decided on.

Chapter Text

He hadn’t slept much, but he hadn’t expected to.

There was a lot to decide.

Fred was right, of course – he should talk to the others. The big him he remembered had rarely done so, but then, he hadn’t been particularly happy either, so Dev wouldn’t take him as a role model in that regard.

He got up and went to help Win make breakfast as had become their habit.

She waited for him to speak first. Anything else would have surprised him anyway.

He didn’t know how to begin, so in the end, he just said the first thing that came to mind. “Would we still do this?”

She looked up from the eggs. “Dear?”

“If I grow big again” he clarified. “Will we still do this?”

“Of course. Nothing’s holding us back, is there?”

That was true, but then, why had he been so alone before? “Did you –“ he cleared his throat; his voice was beginning to now and then sound coarse and scratchy. “Did you like big me?”

She smiled at him, the same easy, loving smile he’d so often seen on Mum’s face. “Yes I did. There’s not so much difference between you two, you know.”

He knew he looked sceptical, but he couldn’t help out.

“You’re still clever, and you still have a good heart. You’ve been doing very well at school, but I’, sure you always did that. You’ve perhaps – you’ve become a little more cheerful, but that’s a good thing. And you’ve learned how to cook!”

He flushed a little bit at her praise.

“And I know – there are those who miss the adult version of you, too.”

He stared at her. There were?

“Fred dearly misses your input at work, and he’s admitted that even Segreant Jakes still seems taken aback when he doesn’t see you sit at your desk. And you were – you were always so polite, so friendly; it was a pleasure talking to you even if it did take me a while to get you to open up.” She brushed another lock of hair off his forehead. “But no matter what you decide, dear, you have a place here, with us. Promise me not to forget that.”

He looked at her and nodded.

After Joan and Sam had come home from work, but before Win started making dinner, he decided to ask their opinion as well.

“I mean” he explained to them “I – I remember quite a bit about big me.”

“Should have known with that big brain of yours” Joan muttered.

“And things were –“ he couldn’t explain; he just couldn’t. What big him had felt and thought and stuff didn’t make much sense to him at the best of times, but when it came to this… “Complicated?”

Joan chuckled. “You can say that again. But then, they usually were when you got involved, I believe.”

“Things are easy now” he admitted. “I know where I belong. I’ve been happy.”

Her eyes softened and Sam boxed his shoulder. “Exactly what we wanted, Dev.”

“Yes, but – it’s – no one gets a do-over. No one. That’s not how it’s supposed to go. I can’t ignore that. You read about it all the time.” Robbie quite liked science fiction, so they’d been reading it together, and many books followed a similar plot. “Like, people do something they shouldn’t just so they can say they did it, or because they can, or because they’re bored. And then things escalate and everything goes wrong.”

“I don’t think everything would go wrong just because you decide to grow up again the long way round” Joan said softly. “But no matter what happens, you’ll always be our brother now.”

He hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear that.

Brother.

They had never called him brother before.

“Yeah. Doesn’t matter if you’re big or small or something in-between, I’ll still someone to go to United matches with me” Sam grinned. “And you know how much Joan enjoys singing with you.”

“And better you in the kitchen with Mum than us” Joan added with a smile of her own.

Dev leaned his head against her shoulder. “Thank you.”

She patted his leg. You don’t have to thank us for that, right, Sammy?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

In the end, he decided to tell Robbie, because Robbie was his best friend and his age, so he would probably understand him the best.

It was during recess – they’d moved under a big bush in the courtyard, a favourite place of theirs.

Dev started picking at the grass. “Robbie?”

His best friend was busy lying on his stomach and watching a ladybird. “Yeah?”

“Would you miss me? If I – if I went away suddenly, would you miss me?”

Robbie, after just having arrived in Oxford, had of course only one thought on that topic.

His head whipped around so quickly it hurt Dev’s neck. “You and the Thursdays are moving?”

He’d quickly accepted Dev’s explanation that they were distantly related and that he’d come live with them after his mum had died.

“No, we’re not.”

“You sick or something? ‘Cause me great-auntie…”

“No, no, I’m healthy. But it’s – or something.”

Robbie sat up. “Are ye being cryptic again, Dev?” It was what he’d dubbed it when Dev tried to explain something he felt to grasp at the first try.

He laughed. “I guess I am.” After a moment of silence, he asked, “If I told you something – would you promise me to wait until I’ve finished, and to try and believe me?”

“Sure.”

It was one of the things he loved the most about Robbie. No matter what, a friend asked him a favour and he’d help.

And so he took a deep breath and began.

He told him how his mum had died, but not recently but twenty years ago; how he’d grown up at Dad’s; how he’d come to Oxford, first as a student and then as a policeman; how he’d met Fred and become his bagman; what cases they had solved, and finally, how he’d needed up where he was.

After he had finished, he waited.

Robbie blinked and then exclaimed, as always when he was excited slipping into strong Geordie, “What ye blatherin’ an aboot? There are no tigers in Oxford!”

Really? That was the one thing He couldn’t accept? “It was a private zoo., They decided they didn’t want any tigers anymore, but then they kept one.”

When Robbie didn’t answer, he eventually asked, “You believe me, right?”

“I believe you believe it” Robbie answered carefully. “An’ now you can get big again?”

“Professor Greer thinks so. He thinks he can turn me back into big me.”

Robbie whistled. “That’s one sort of trick. Can he do the same for me? I don’ wanna go to school anymore.”

“Not how it works. I doubt he’d agree to it.”

“And what are ye going to do?”

“I don’t know, Robbie” he admitted. “I just don’t know. These past few months – I’ve been happy. But it’s not fair to big me. This me, he’s already had his time. Big me had a life too.”

“Explains why your sister is really old, though” Robbie was somewhat distracted by remembering Joyce, who he’d met once or twice. “But anyway, they let you decide?”

“Yeah.”

“Thought so. They’re good people, the Thursdays.”

“Yeah” he said again.

After a pause, Robbie began, “Dev?”

“Yes?”

“Whatever happens… we’ll still be pals, right? I can come with you for the police?”

He had to smile. “You’d have to be patient…”

“I can be patient if I have to. But we’ll still be friends.”

“Oy. We will be.”

“Then that’s okay” Robbie decided in his usual candid manner.

Dev felt the better for it.

The one other person he wanted to speak to before he made his decision was Joycie. She’d come down on Friday afternoon, and he’d told Win that he’d go to her place – his old flat – directly after school. She’d understood why, of course, but told him to definitely bring Joycie back with him for dinner.

He had a key, of course – the one they kept at the Thursdays’.

Joyce lit up when she saw him. “Dev!” She drew him into her arms. “I think you’ve grown again.”

“You were here only two weeks ago” he reminded her.

“And your voice’s starting to break” she informed him cheerfully.

“I know.” Sam had cracked a few well-meaning jokes about it but had apologized when he realized he’d genuinely upset him.

“So what’s this about? You know I would have come see you at the Thursdays…”

“Joycie… do you miss big me?” he had decided this would be the best approach.

She looked at him, then bit her lip. “That’s… you know what, let me make us some tea.”

Knowing by now well from his new home that this was indeed the best reaction to anything, as Fred had put it, he nodded.

“Here’s the truth” Joyce told him once they were sting down with their drinks. “Mum doesn’t know it, and I doubt she would care, but we were close in our own way.”

“But we hadn’t seen each other in so long…” he replied, feeling slightly helpless.

She raised an eyebrow then agreed, “Yes. I know. And I really could have called more often. Or made an effort to see you. But…. None of that necessarily means that one doesn’t love one another.”

“Is that something like grownups acting strange again?”

She laughed. “You could say that. My point is, growing up – you were always there for me. Whether I’d scraped my knee or was just bored, you were ready to put a plaster on it or play with me. You taught me letters and gave me books, and you always looked after me whether mum had told you to or not. But as we grew older…” she gathered her thoughts. “It’s like this – I’m almost twelve years younger than you.”

It seemed almost strange hearing an adult tell him that.

“And so – there were many things you thought I shouldn’t be bothered with, that I shouldn’t be burdened by having to comfort you. So when you didn’t make it in Oxford or when you got shot or after –“ She hesitated.

“Susan?”

“You remember her?”

Dev shrugged. “A little. Not much. I know I was very sad because of it, but that’s it.”

“That’s probably for the best” she admitted. “But still – yes, we were close. And also yes, sometimes I miss big you. I miss picking up the phone and calling my big brother when I need advise, or just to chat, to let him know he’s not alone in the world, no matter what’s going through that head of his at the moment.”

They both fell silent for a few moments and then she said, “What brought this on?”

He told her.

She took his hand. “And what do you want?”

“I don’t know” he finally admitted. “I don’t know. I’ve been happy with the Thursdays – happier than I ever was at…” he trailed off.

She squeezed his hand to show that she understood.

“But big me – he had a life, he had his memories, memories that mean nothing to me. It just doesn’t seem fair.”

“No” she agreed “Nothing about this does. But I’ll tell you what, Dev” she had eventually adopted his nickname too, after one too many dinners with the Thursdays, and he didn’t mind one bit “No matter what you decide on – I’ll still make the effort to see you at least twice a month.”

“Promise?” he asked, hating how needy he sounded, but Joyce apparently didn’t mind, for she just hugged him again.

“Yes. Promise.”

After that, it took him another week to decide. One day after school, he went to his old flat and looked at it, imagining, trying to relive the memories, but no feelings would arise. And yet…

That night at dinner, he cleared his throat and said, “I’ve made my decision.”

“And, dear?” Win eventually prompted him.

“It’s just – it’s not right, being small when I’m supposed to be big. I should go back.”

She had tears in her eyes as she kissed his forehead, and yet she admitted then, “I think you’re doing the right thing.”

Chapter Text

When he got up on that fateful morning – for, if any morning was to be called fateful, wasn’t it today – Dev felt – felt –

He didn’t know how he felt. But he was familiar with that, because big him’s memories still didn’t make much sense to him. He knew about Susan, and about Dad, and that he’d gotten injured several times, and it still didn’t feel real to him.

But, in a way, big him was the real thing. Dev was something that shouldn’t have happened.

He even looked forward to being grown-up. They’d finally be able to go to the opera or other concerts without adults looking at them weirdly because he was considered too young to do so, and he’d get to drive cars, for one thing. Now and then, Fred had allowed him into one of the Jaguars he could borrow from work –

Work. He was going back to work for the police, of course, and eventually Robbie would join him. It felt surreal, thinking of work.

At least he had a flat, although he thought the Thursdays’ home was much more comfortable. But he could save up, and he could get a nicer place. And Win and the others had promised him that he’d always have a home with them.

He liked having a home. Big him hadn’t had a real home, he knew. Big him had moved a lot and Dad’s place certainly hadn’t been a home to him.

But if he kept the Thursdays, if he got to still cook with Win and play Scrabble with Joan and Sam and talk to Fred at night, then there was no reason why Oxford shouldn’t become his home.

And big him could help Robbie when Robbie joined the police force in six years or so.

Win was already up, but that was no surprise. She smiled at him gently. “Hello, dear. Do you want to make breakfast?”

“Can we make a full English again?” he asked hopefully as his stomach growled.

She only smiled wider. “Of course.”

Win told herself that this wasn’t the last time, that there would be other meals they prepared together, but she couldn’t help herself – she kept sneaking glances at their boy as he by now effortlessly fried the bacon, humming a melody of a song Joan had recently become obsessed with.

Endeavour was so happy. And yet he was bent on doing what he considered the right thing.

She would miss this boy, that much she knew. It would have been foolish to pretend that she wouldn’t. She would miss him coming home from school, sometimes dragging Robbie with him to ensure his friend actually did his homework; she would miss his boyish laughter as he played around with Joan and Sam; she would miss him returning from the library with more books than he’d left with.

Yet, they would keep him as well, wouldn’t they? Win was determined that he wouldn’t slip out of their grasp again just because he was grown. He was their boy now, truly and utterly, and nothing could take that away from them again.

What if he didn’t want that though, she suddenly wondered. What if he wanted his old life back, his rather lonely life (but that had been her view; maybe he’d liked being alone most of the time. Some people did)? What then? Joanie and Sammy had grown so very fond of him, as if he really were their brother… what would they say?

But on the other hand –

Morse had always struck her as someone who craved love and affection but was too shy to ask for it.

Even if that became difficult to remember, looking at the happy boy who always found some comrade to paly with at the park. She’d seen it herself when she’d accompanied him there on afternoons when Joan and Sam had been working.

And of course there was that dear Robbie who’d become so fond of Dev.

“What is it, Win?” he suddenly asked. At the beginning he’d been very hesitant to ask questions or demand answers, but that habit had slowly but surely dilapidated as well.

“Just thinking dear.”

“It’s difficult not to, is it” he said quietly. “I’ll be big again in a few hours.”

“Doesn’t mean you won’t always be my mini chef” she said lightly, referring to Joan’s and Sam’s nickname for him during their activities in the kitchen, and he smiled at her.

If only we can make him smile like that so easily once he’s grown again, she thought.

Professor Greer had told them that it would be best if the circumstances of the first change were as closely re-enacted as possible, which was why neither Win nor the children could accompany them; instead, Fred and Endeavour were once more standing in front of the house where it had all begun with Jakes. When they had explained what was going on, he’d immediately offered his services.

Dev had been quiet on the way, at which Fred was not surprised, since Win, Joan and Sam had obviously been reluctant to let him go.

“Now, dear” Win pulled him into a hug before smoothing his hair down once more time, “I know you might be a little confused afterwards, and tired, but don’t hesitate to ask for help. You’re part of our family, now.”

“Hell yeah” Sam exclaimed and not even Fred could bring himself to chastise him for it “and don’t forget we’ll go to the United match on Saturday.”

“We can all go” Joan offered, despite her usual disinterest in football, and even then, it made Dev’s eyes light up with delight.

He accepted their hugs and smiled bravely before he exited the house accompanied by Fred.

“Ready, kid?” Jakes was now asking Morse.

“I can’t say” he admitted.

“Bet no one could. You’re like a prototype there.”

Through some way Fred couldn’t quite understand, Endeavour seemed to trust Jakes the most from his old colleagues, maybe because he always spoke frankly to him.

“I suppose so” he replied with a weak smile.

Fred clasped his shoulder. “Don’t forget, son, we’ve got your back. If anything should happen, we’re there.”

Although he sure couldn’t see what they could do, if anything went wrong. Yet Dev seemed to draw strength from his promise, so he couldn’t help but feel better for it.

It quickly turned out that Professor Greer had had the place cleaned up – the room Morse had been turned in was now looking like a real laboratory, because apparently there was only so much the doctor was able to tolerate in order to recreate the scenario, but dirty equipment wasn’t one of those things.

“Ah, hello, Endeavour”. He smiled at him. “Inspector Thursday…”

“Sergeant Jakes” he introduced himself. “I was there when it happened”.

He nodded. “Excellent. Are you ready?”

He wasn’t exactly being the kid-friendliest, but Dev still nodded.

“Here” Thursday passed Greer a bag. “We picked up a few of his old clothes for… afterwards.”

“Good” he nodded. “Better get started, then.”

Fred pulled Dev into a hug. “Now don’t be scared, son. I’ll see you on the other side.”

He nodded again and followed Greer without looking back.

Suddenly, Fred felt like he had just lost someone very important.

Jakes, as he had his surprise often turned out to be in the last few months, became the icebreaker as he lit a cigarette and said, “A good kid. Brave little guy.”

“Yes” he forced out. “He’s become… very important to us.” It sounded downright silly when he said it like that – it wasn’t as if his bagman hadn’t been important to them. But his bagman had been a grown man; they hadn’t been able to just take him in and look after him, Win hadn’t taught him how to cook, Sam hadn’t taken him to watch United matches, Joan and he hadn’t started singing…

“And it’s a lot to ask, suddenly becoming an adult again because it’s the right thing. Like I said. A good kid.”

Fred nodded because he didn’t trust his voice, and they waited.

He’d never considered how long this would take – after all, the first change had been almost instantaneous – but about half an hour after Dev had disappeared with Professor Greer, the later opened the door. “It was even easier than I expected. In – “

But Fred had already moved past him into the laboratory.

Dev was sitting on a stretcher in the clothes Fred had handed Greer.

He didn’t like the way his shoulders slumped.

“How are you doing, son?”

He looked up. “I am very well, sir, thank you.”

Fred was utterly taken aback by the sir, although he shouldn’t have been. He cleared his throat. “No side effects or anything?”

He shook his head. “I’m a little tired” he said flatly “But Professor Greer told me to expect that.”

Fred studied his carefully blank expression and wondered what to do or say. Just this morning, this man had been a boy, laughing at their breakfast table, and now he was looking at him as if he barely knew him.

Wait – “What do you remember?” he asked quickly. If his memories were compromised, then he might think they were still chasing Henderson –

“I remember everything, sir.”

Everything? But then why –

“Like I said, a complete success” Professor Greer, who’d stepped up to them, said rather proudly.

Fred turned to him, trying to put aside his worries for the time being. They could handle things once he’d brought Dev home. “Professor, concerning your studies…”

“Oh, I know” he sighed. “My work will have to be destroyed. It’s simply not safe to keep it around; look what just one man did because he had the power to go against nature.” He looked Fred straight in the eyes “I won’t pretend I won’t regret it. But it shall be done, Inspector, and I will make certain absolutely no hint of any experiments remains. You have my word on that.”

He nodded at him then turned to Dev, who wouldn’t meet his eyes.

He couldn’t help it; he reached out and grasped his shoulders. “Dev?”

His reply made him feel like he’d been punched in the gut.

“It – it’s Morse sir.”

“But –“ he began, unsure of what he should say. What was there to say? If Dev – if Morse – if the man in front of him didn’t want to have anything to do with him – at least not in the way they had all grown so very much used to in the last six months – if he simply wanted to go back to being his bagman, then there was nothing Fred could do about it.

Once more, Jakes came to the rescue. “Hey, Morse”.

He looked up and said in the same flat, emotionless tone, “Jakes.”

“Let’s get you home.”

He nodded and announced, “We’re not far from my flat anyway.”

My flat.

If possible, Fred’s heart sank even lower; and it got worse when Dev spent the entire drive silently looking out the window.

In fact, he only said one thing as he got out of the car, finally looking at Fred with empty eyes. “Thank you, sir. For everything.”

And with a decisive move, he closed the door behind him, as if he wanted to put everything that had happened behind him – a feat, Fred was sure, he himself would never be able to accomplish.

How was he supposed to tell Win and their other children?

His mind was crowded with memories. From the second he had opened his eyes as a man again, and then seen Fr- DI Thursday, De- Morse (use the proper names, he told himself, otherwise you’ll never had been trying to make sense of it all again) he had attempted to reconcile who he had been when he’d entered the laboratory and who he now knew himself actually to be.

He knew that the boy had hoped – had almost expected – to return to the Thursdays and the same easy familiarity and care they had been kind enough to treat him with – but of course that was impossible.

He was DC E. Morse, and DI Thursday was nothing but his superior officer. He and his family had chosen to care for him, and he would always be grateful; but of course all of this was over and done with. He was an adult, not a little boy who was desperately clinging to any friendly face for some stability.

De- Morse just needed to focus, that was all. Maybe he should listen to some of his LPs?

It was then that he realized that all his old favourites were still at the Thursdays.

Another realization rendered that thought completely fruitless anyway, since he then admitted to himself what he really wanted to listen to was Louis Armstrong.

It was that word – wanting – that caused a wave of longing to crush over him.

Wanting.

He wanted to be back at the Thursdays’, to help Win make lunch and eventually have tea and wait for Joan and Sam to come home – like the boy he had been.

This would help no one, and so he grabbed an old newspaper that Joyce would have left one day or the other (he’d call her later, when he knew she’d be home) and tried to do the crosswords, despite his thoughts constantly drifting off the task.

He never heard the key in the lock, or the soft steps approaching him.

He only raised his head from the newspaper when a kind voice gently said, “Hello, dear.”

Chapter Text

Fred Thursday was a coward.

And every minute in which he didn’t pick up the phone and told Win that he wouldn’t be bringing Dev home today only made it worse.

He knew that and yet he did nothing about it, sitting in his office and smoking pipe after pipe.

No one disturbed him, which he attributed to Jakes.

Win didn’t know why she’d felt compelled to go to Dev’s flat, with two sandwiches, of course. But somehow, she had been certain that he’d probably want to see his – his old home once he became an adult again.

Maybe it was all the time they’d spent together in this past year; she’d gotten to know him rather well.

There he was, doing a crosswords puzzle, looking very much like he had the day she’d picked him up from the station. It was amazing how much she could still see the boy in the man.

“Hello, dear.”

He looked up, startled, and she smiled. “Look at you. Back to being the handsome young man you are.”

He blushed. “I – Win –“ he seemed shocked at himself then said “I mean –“

“Still the same unruly curls though” she continued, reaching out to try and tame them once more, knowing very well she’d fail. “I’m so glad to see you’re alright, dear.”

She sat down across from him. “Here” she passed him his sandwich. “Joan and Sam will be glad – I know they were worried. I felt certain everything would be alright, though. Afterwards, we can go home – you can rest up a bit, if you’re tired – and then we’ll make lunch.” He certainly needed feeding up; sadly, his (by now) well-fed appearance at a boy hadn’t translated into his adult self, but that, they could fix soon enough.

“Mis- I – Win” he forced out, looking at the sandwich. “I – you don’t have – I know that things are… different now.”

“Yes, you won’t be going to school anymore for one thing” she said simply. Her poor boy was a little confused, but really, wasn’t that just to be expected? She wished Fred hadn’t left him alone – but that couldn’t be helped, and anyway, she was here now. “Come on, eat your sandwich.”

He did so. After he’d finished, she reached out and took his hand.” Let’s get you home, then.”

She insisted on getting a cab, since Dev clearly was tired – so quiet and slightly out of it – and indeed, they hadn’t been driving for more than five minutes before she ever so slightly jumped as his head sank on her shoulder.

Her eyes met the cab driver’s in the rear-view mirror. “Doesn’t matter how old the grow, ay, Mrs.?” He smiled. “They always stay our little ones.”

She could only agree.

“Dear? Were home.”

She gently shook Dev awake. He blinked at her. “Win?”

“We’re home” she repeated.

“Home?” he looked out the window and studied the house. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then looked straight into her eyes.

She nodded and smiled.

And, finally, her boy smiled back.

Superintendent Bright eventually came to see him. “Thursday. I didn’t expect to see you today.”

At least he didn’t try to pretend that their group hadn’t been very aware of what Professor Greer was doing to try and do today.

He nodded. “Yes. Dev – no not Dev” he corrected himself bitterly “Morse is at his flat.” And he thanked me like I’d handed him a cup of tea, as if the last six months mean nothing to him.

“Ah”. Bright sat down. “Well, if I recall correctly, Morse had always been a bit… introverted. He probably needs some time alone.”

Yes, he knew, he knew. But he didn’t know the boy, whereas Fred had been living with him, had gotten used to the boy being completely open with him.

And he could still see Dev in Morse bloody hell. Simply by the way he had been sitting and waiting for them – Dev was still in there.

But Morse apparently had no interest in admitting that, or showing any sign that he wanted to stay close to them.

“I meant it, Thursday. This is – quite a bit to take in. It’s Morse. Give it a day or two.”

He tried to take comfort from it.

He didn’t know what it had been – maybe the sandwich, or Win still treating him like her own, or his short unplanned nap – but when he had looked upon the Thursday home, he had known that right now, at this very moment, he had a decision to make. He could enter the house as a visitor, have lunch with Win, and leave.

Or he could admit to what he wanted, and enjoy himself.

He could be Dev or Morse or maybe try to be both.

And for once, he decided to hold unto a good thing.

Declining to rest some more, he instead immediately moved into the kitchen to start making lunch.

“Thankfully you remember, dear” Win told him as he was cleaning the asparagus “You really need to put on a few more pounds.”

“I know, Win. You’ve told me so. Repeatedly.”

“Good. Because you need to remember that, too.”

He just smiled at her.

A hand on his arm made him look… down. He wasn’t yet used to being taller than Win yet, and jumped.

“Sorry, dear.”

“No, no, it’s –“ he sighed. “I was startled, that was all.”

“All?” she asked quietly.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts then said, “No, not all. As a matter of fact I… there is a lot to think about.”

She nodded as if he was making sense, and maybe to her, he was. Then she hugged him once more. “But don’t forget, dear, we’re always here if you want to talk.”

“I know, Win” he said because he did. “I know.”

It was in the middle of the afternoon that the doorbell rang; Win insisted he stay put with his tea and his newspaper and went to open it.

He probably should not have been surprised that his best friend from school (what a weird sentence, he thought with a smile that was probably a bit imbalanced, but it had all been a lot) would just rush in. “Hello, Mrs. Thursday, sorry but Dev wasn’t in school and he told me something strange the other day and I just wanted to make certain – oh me God, it’s true.”

He smiled at the boy. “Hello Robbie.”

“Wow. Wow. I – wow.” His eyes were wide as saucers. Then he took a deep breath and added, “Are you sure I can’t be big too?”

“Sorry” he replied. “You’ll have to go the long way around.”

He pouted then asked “But we are still friends, right?”

“Of course we are” he confirmed. “Sam asked me to go to the United Match next Saturday; want to come with?”

He nodded almost as enthusiastically at that as at the biscuits Win brought them over soon afterwards.

If Dev had had time to think about it – and quite frankly he hadn’t, because he was distracted by so many things, like learning to move now that he was bigger again, or a the almost incredibly fact that he felt comfortable in his adult skin for the first time in a very long time – he would have assumed that seeing Joan and Sam (especially Joan) again would be awkward, but since he hadn’t, it wasn’t.

They arrived almost at the same time, Joan’s face lighting up. “Dev! Back with us!” She pulled him into a hug. “Mum made you come home?”

“You guessed it” he told her, pulling back.

“It’s going to take some getting used to you being taller than me again” she laughed then, and he agreed with her.

Sam simply boxed his shoulder a told him they were still on for the game on Saturday, immediately accepting that he’d invited Robbie as well.

It was with a heavy heart that Fred approached his front door that evening. To his credit, Jakes had offered to accompany him as he broke the news, but this was something them as a family would have to deal with.

He expected the house to be silent when he entered, almost as if it, too, should be mourning, but instead he could hear the radio playing in the kitchen and the children laughing.

And then, suddenly, everything changed.

Because he knew that voice.

And that voice was saying, “Sam, if you do not hand me the pepper right now, I will be forced to use this spatula.”

“Good luck with that. You’re still a twig, you know.”

“That’s what he’s got me for?”

“You’d side with him over me? Betrayal.”

“How is it betrayal if I help Dev against you, you menace –“

“Dears, the sauce –“

At this moment, Joan and – and – started singing along to the radio.

“I see trees of green, red roses too, I see them bloom for me and you. And I think to myself What a wonderful world…”

Fred moved without taking the time to take off his coat or hat.

Dev was indeed cooking dinner with Win, as he had been doing for months now, Sam apparently holding the peppershaker hostage.

“Oh hello Fred” Dev said, spying him first, as if absolutely nothing had changed.

“Hello” he forced out.

“Hello, love” Win said, sweeping in to give him a kiss. “Dev can reach the upper cabinets now, it’s such a help.”

Wasn’t this slightly insane, he wondered as he finally went to hang up his coat and hat. But what was the alternative? Dev sitting in his flat, maybe drinking more than was advisable, moping? Yes, give him this any day.

“Ronny?” Dev asked. “I thought you said he was kind of annoying…”

“With Dad’s job – and yours – good luck finding anyone else” she told him.

“Makes my job easier” Sam said. “No one to chase off.”

“As if you’d be able to chase off anyone.”

“I’ve got Dev.”

“I thought I was a twig who couldn’t threaten anyone.”

As Fred watched them bicker, he couldn’t help but feel that they were blessed.

Win took his hand and squeezed it, and he knew she felt the same.

Somehow (although no – he knew exactly what had happened; Win wanted to make sure everything was indeed alright) he and Dev ended up in the living room after dinner.

He raised an eyebrow. “Drink?”

He wondered about it for a moment, then nodded. “Just a little bit though. Haven’t had a drink in a while.”

“Can’t imagine why” Fred said dryly, handing him his glass. “Endeavour…” he asked as soon as they were sitting down, “How are you?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.”

A pause.

“Well” Fred said. “That’s not very helpful.”

“I – I remember everything, just like I told you. But it’s not like my memories when I was a boy – I actually remember the experiences and feelings, and… for what it’s worth I am at peace with what happened. As a matter of fact, I think – I think I’m more at peace with myself than I was before. And I think I have all of you to thank for that.”

“Nonsense. Anyone would have done it.”

He looked sceptical but nodded anyway, and Fred saw the influence of the last months. The old Morse would never have accepted being cared for that easily.

“Still. I am – “

“Dev” he interrupted him. “There’s something you should know, son – you don’t have to thank us for that: Ever again. It would be like Joan or Sam thanking us.”

He swallowed, then looked at him before nodding once more.

Dev sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“That’s not what bookshelves are for” Sam helpfully supplied.

“Far from the first time today too” he sighed. “Should’ve seen me when we made lunch. I’m not used to being this size again yet.”

“Even though you’re still tiny.”

“Ha ha.”

“Does it hurt?” Sam asked, genuinely concerned.

“No, don’t worry. Like I said – it’s just annoying.”

Sam was silent for a moment then said, “I’m really glad you’re still here.”

“So am I”.

“Dev, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure”.

“Would you still be here if – if Mum hadn’t come get you?”

He had told Joan and Sam the truth, of course. They’d have gotten it out of him eventually anyway.

“I don’t know” he admitted. “I really don’t know. But Win came and got me, as you put it and… nothing else that could have happened is important.”

“Alright then” Sam easily accepted his explanation, as he did so often.

Dev concentrated on the book he had chosen with a smile on his face.

And if Win, summoned by Sam, sometime later plucked it out of his hands and tucked him, already fast asleep, carefully into bed, no one but them ever had to know.

Chapter Text

Everyone was still asleep when Win went downstairs the next morning. She checked up on the children, of course, as was her wont, and only realized how relieved she was when she saw Dev’s unruly curls sticking out from underneath the duvet.

She had been worried that they would lose him, she had known that – but only now was she aware just how worried.

He came down as she put the kettle on. “Good morning, dear.”

“Good morning, Win” he replied quietly.

“How are you doing?”

He contemplated his answer for a few moments, then said, “It’s… not easy to say. I – I really do remember almost everything, and maybe because of that, I don’t – I don’t seem to have turned back completely into who I was before. But I think that might be a good thing.”

“It’s not like you’re a different person” she said decidedly. “My mum always used to say that one can’t bring out something in someone that’s not there in the first place.”

A smile hushed across his face. “You unearthed quite a bit, didn’t you?”

She smiled back at him and automatically tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “Yes, well, we happen to like what we unearthed, Endeavour. You’ll get used to it.”

After a moment’s pause he quietly said, “I am sure I will.”

Peter was well aware that the Old Man would most likely be in a terrible mood this morning, and it was all too understandable – not only had he lost Dev, but he would have to live with working with Morse again as if nothing had happened, if the constable’s behaviour yesterday was anything to go by.

Well, he’d do his best to try and shield… these two from each other.

Great plan, Jakes. And how do you propose to do that?

He sighed and got out of the Jag. No time like the present.

However, when Joan opened the door, her eyes were sparkling mischievously. “Peter! Come on in.”

That was… not quite the welcome he had anticipated.

“Good morning?” he tried but she’d already turned around and hurried back into the dining room.

Which was explained when he followed her and found –

“I’m telling you, Sam” Morse was currently insisting. “Tony Jones is going to stay high up in the all-time scoring list for a while…”

Wait – Tony Jones…

They were talking football.

Peter blinked.

“I didn’t deny that I just said –“

“Ah, Jakes” DI Thursday announced, looking as happy as he’d been downcast yesterday. Mrs. Thursday was bustling around as usual, smiling gently at him.

“Peter! How are you doing?”

Morse and Sam looked up from their discussion.

Peter was completely taken aback.

He had never seen Morse so – so –

Yesterday, in the laboratory and on the way to his flat, he had seen the Constable they had lost a little over six months ago – introverted, quiet and somewhat stroppy whenever someone approached him.

This Morse – this Morse radiated an air of… peace, of contentment, that Peter couldn’t help but envy him just the slightest bit for.

Especially since, as soon as he and DI Thursday got up, Mrs. Thursday hurried over with two sandwiches. “Now” she said, kissing her husband before drawing Morse into a short motherly hug “you be careful – especially, you, Dev dear – I won’t hear anything about being shot or slashed at again.”

“I’ll try my best, Win” he promised.

“Guess we’ll have to deal with that” Joan sighed and kissed his cheek. “Just be home in time for dinner.”

“You just want to keep your own personal chef” he muttered, but he was obviously pleased.

Peter decided the best thing to do was simply drive to the station.

Although he couldn’t help but make an attempt he’d never have thought of… before. “So, do you think United’s going to find an adequate replacement for Tony Jones?”

He’d deliberately not addressed either of them, so he probably shouldn’t have been surprised that Morse used it as an excuse to launch into a lecture about United’s last season and how they still had every chance now, even without Tony Jones.

God. Was he still asleep? This certainly rather felt like a bizarre dream.

However, it did make his life easier.

If Peter had thought about Morse returning to work – and of course he had, almost every day – he wouldn’t have considered the six months he spent with the Thursdays a long enough time to change – well, anything.

That would have been short-sighted, as he was now to discover, and when he considered it later, he would remind himself that for a child, six months were quite a long time; and moreover, it had been six months with the Thursdays.

But for now, all he could do was watch Morse as he reacquainted himself with his desk – already, he’d run into the door and declared while laughing (laughing?) that he still “had to get used to this size” – and start – working as if nothing had happened.

WPC Trewlove welcomed him back by bringing him a cup of tea; he thanked her and once again smiled brightly.

Peter saw Strange stare at him from the corner of his eyes and wondered if he looked equally as startled. Probably.

Once Morse had looked over his desk (for now he’d offered to help Trewlove with the files she’d been working on, considering there were no pressing cases) he got up. “I’ll go see Doctor DeBryn” he told them. “He’ll want to make sure I’m doing well.”

That was true, and the old Morse would have known that as well, but for one, he wouldn’t have openly admitted to anyone caring for him, and two, he wouldn’t have hastened to help Doctor DeBryn checking him out.

Well, Peter would say this –

If this continued, it would mean a much more harmonious working space.

He’d been planning on dropping by the squad room in the course of the day, to make sure the change hadn’t hurt Morse in any way. It was unlikely – considering this time, it hadn’t been done by a crook trying to get away, but by someone who actually knew what he was doing; but Max still wanted to make sure, if for no other reason than he thought of Morse as a friend.

And that DI Thursday would probably want a report. That, too.

He had of course seen the young Morse amidst his inspector’s family, had heard him laugh and be comfortable with people who cared for him; but he still imagined Morse to be the same he’d always been.

A somewhat faulty reasoning, he would later reflect.

“Hello, Max” Morse’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

He looked up from his desk. “Morse.”

“Dev is fine.”

That was… unexpected.

“Dev. Glad to see you’re back with us.”

“In the flesh” he smiled as he, on Max’s invitation, sat down.

“Any repercussions?”

“Not that I know of. Professor Greer also didn’t seem to expect any.”

He nodded. “So what can I do for you?”

Morse – Dev – frowned. “I assumed you’d want to see for yourself…”

Oh. Normally when he got to check on Morse, it was because DI Thursday insisted he see someone after having fallen through the ceiling or getting otherwise injured again.

“Alright”.

To hide his confusion, he got his bag.

“Thursday. I assume Morse is back with us?”

He nodded at the superintendent, who’d just entered his office. “Yes, sir. Jakes said he went to see Doctor DeBryn.”

He frowned. “Any problems?”

“None so far, but it’s best to make sure.”

At least he assumed that’s why Dev had gone to see the doctor, but he could always ask him later.

Or right now, for there was a knock on his door and Dev came in. “Oh. I am sorry, sir –“

“Never mind, Morse” he waved away his apologies as he got up. “Good to see you back with us.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Fred stared at the scene in front of him. Gone was Dev’s former reluctance to engage with their superior officer, his obvious discomfort in his presence.

Superintendent Bright seemed to notice it as well since he cleared his throat. “Well, that’s good then… You’ll be working with DI Thursday again, of course.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded. “Good. Then. Keep me appraised.”

Of what, Fred couldn’t say, but he beat a hasty retreat.

“Everything fine, then?”

Dev nodded. “Yes, according to Doctor DeBryn.”

Despite everything, it was a relief.

It so happened that Peter accompanied Morse and DI Thursday to the pub, both immediately pulling out the sandwiches Mrs. Thursday had bestowed on them in the morning.

Feeling somewhat helpless, he decided to announce, “I’ll buy the drinks today –“

“Make mine orange juice, please” Morse said, “I think I should take it easy at least for the next few days.”

DI Thursday looked like he very much felt as if the “next few days” might turn into months if he had anything to say about it.

When the Old Man went to the loo, he used the moment. “So… everything is alright?”

Instead of looking for any hidden meaning in his words, or assuming that he was fishing for something he could use against him, Morse simply answered. “Yes, don’t worry, Peter.”

He’d never called him Peter before but he decided to let it slide. He had, after all, begun to think of Morse as something like a friend. “It’s just… confusing.”

He smiled – yes, Morse was smiling at him mischievously. “I know it is.”

“That was a brave thing the little guy did, deciding to become an adult again.”

He was still smiling, but now he looked much more sincere as he replied, “It was. Couldn’t have done it without the months I spent with Fred and Win, really.”

Fred and Win. That would take some time to get used to.

He thought there was nothing left that could surprise him but then DI Thursday returned and Morse, who, last time he saw him as Constable Morse, wouldn’t have known small talk if it stood in front of him and sang the national anthem, said, “I forgot to mention – Max told me PC Higgins got engaged –“

Peter spat his drink.  

And so things moved on. The difference between the Morse who had been turned into a boy and the Morse who had been changed back into a man continued to surprise them all, although to varying degrees.

Peter quickly got used to the fact that Morse matter-of-factly now made tea for them all, although he would own he was somewhat shocked when he called out to him and was quickly corrected that he might as well call him Dev from then on.

A few days later, Strange, in that usual awkward way of his that proved he knew very well that Mo – that Dev should be a sergeant as well by now said, “Matey, if I could get that report on the car thefts over the course of the day –“

And the colleague, who had to his knowledge tried to get out of doing paperwork whenever he could, who had in fact been not nearly as good a policeman as a detective, looked at him with wide eyes and for a moment, Peter felt almost nostalgic because yes, this was exactly how he looked when he was reminded of something he’d rather not have to –

“The one that’s been lying on your desk for the last hour?”

Okay, maybe not.

Strange blinked at him, his mouth slightly open, then went to check. “Yes, that one. Thanks, Dev.”

“No problem.”

At lunchtime, he had his sandwich, of course. Peter was used to picking up both him and DI Thursday at the later’s home anyway.

Mrs. Ellis, the witness to a rather horrifying car accident yesterday, who had been too distraught to give a statement at the time, smiled shyly at Peter. “Would it be possible for the nice constable to take my statement? The one who calmed me down?”

He hadn’t known Trewlove had even been at the scene, but if it made her feel better. “Of course, just let me –“

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Ellis. I hope you’re feeling better?”

And Peter watched as she happily greeted Dev. Seemed like he had taken a few pages out of Mrs. Thursday’s book.

At least he was reasonably sure he didn’t look quite as aghast as Strange, who had overheard the conversation as well.

“Was he interested in 19^th century French literature?” Dev, who had developed a theory that the murder of a plumber and the theft of a Baudelaire manuscript kept at the Bodleian were connected (some things didn’t change after all), asked.

The colleague of the victim laughed, then sneered. “No. Not everyone’s as interested in books as you gown types. He was pretty stocked about United’s season, for one thing”.

“It was a good one, however I am rather concerned how they’ll fare in the second division” Dev simply replied.

The man blinked and suddenly grew much more complacent.

Peter lit a cigarette.

“Oh my God” Dribbler, one of the sergeants from nightshift, gasped.

Peter at first paid no attention – the man commented almost everything in the same manner – and as a matter of fact, he was in the middle of reflecting that he should probably finish his beer and get home.

Somehow, he couldn’t help but contrast how badly he was being entertained by the now easy atmosphere in the squad room. Dev had clearly stopped seeing him as any sort of rival or antagonist, and was surprisingly good company.

“He knows the Old man will have his hide? They’ll never find his body!”

He finally turned around and saw Dev, Joan and Sam having sat down at a table near them.
Right, he remembered because Dev was no longer averse to small talk, Saturday. The United Match. Urgently, Joan had chosen to accompany them, and they’d probably just brought the kid he’d been running around school with home.

Joan was leaning against Dev’s shoulder, laughing about something he’d said.

“I doubt it” he answered. After all, he had more than once politely ignored DI Thursday addressing Dev as “son” or Dev automatically using The Old Man’s first name, as he undoubtedly did when they were alone.

Dribbler whistled. “Wouldn’t have thought Morse had the chutzpah.”

Now all three of them were laughing and Peter decided he would rather –

And then Dev saw him and waved, clearly inviting him to join.

Dribbler was staring at him. “What –“

He shrugged and put out his cigarette. “We’re friends”.

And with that, he left him standing there.

“Hello” he greeted them. “Good match?”

“Beat Torquay 2 to 0” Sam told him with a satisfied smile. “Not that that’s important – “

Joan rolled her eyes. “Would’ve been a very different tune if they’d lost.”

“But we didn’t” Dev said cheerfully, as he so often did now.

Peter sat down and decided to, for all the confusion and the worry, things had somehow changed for the better.

He had never enjoyed himself better in this pub, for one.

Dev, as he woke up on the first Sunday after he’d turned back into an adult, knew that many people would considered him to have gone insane.

Maybe he had, but frankly, if so, he didn’t mind.

He wasn’t the least bit surprised to find Win already in the kitchen. “Good morning dear.”

“Good morning. Let me just give Joyce a quick call; I promised I would.”

“But of course.” She once more tried to tame his hair. “Go ahead, I’ll put the kettle on.”

Joyce and he had already talked since he’d been changed back, of course, and she was planning on visiting next weekend, but she’d still insisted on talking to him before that.

“And you’re still sure everything’s fine?”

“Yes, Joycie, don’t worry. I’ve been working, and we went to see the game yesterday.”

Robbie had been downright adorably delighted he got to accompany the adults.

“Good. Can’t wait to see you.”

“You, too.”

A few weeks after that, Joyce wasn’t able to make the trip to Oxford, so Dev decided to visit her, signing out a car of the station on Friday night.

What he hadn’t counted on was that he was spending the night at the Thursdays’, and that the next morning, Joan and Sam piled into the car after him faster than he could blink.

“We want to see Joyce too” she immediately said. “Plus, you know, we could draw some fire if need be.”

Between him and Gwen. Not that it would really have been necessary – now that he had so many people in his life who cared for him, Dev had found that he himself minded precious little that Gwen had never liked him.

Still – “Thank you. Do you want to choose the radio station?”

Of course she did.

It wasn’t Gwen who caused Dev to leave the house shortly after tea.

No, there was something he had to do, and he had to do it alone. And so, he left Joyce with Joan and Sam and made his way to Miss Ashton’s house.

She let him in immediately upon seeing his badge and naturally offered him a cup of tea.

“Is this about my nephew?” she asked as soon as they were sitting down.

He nodded. “Yes; Miss Ashton, there are certain… circumstances concerning your nephew’s death that I feel you should know.” He took a deep breath. “Your nephew… right before he died, he saved my life; it might indeed be said that it cost him his.”

After a moment’s silence, she replied, “I see.”

“He did the right thing, in the end” he said, much as Fred would have.

“It’s – it’s good to hear that, thank you, Constable. And yet… he must have done something very bad before that. DI Thursday was rather vague when he was kind enough to tell me in person.”

“Yes” he affirmed. “He committed… a crime. But – Miss Ashton, I can’t go into any details either, but… I want you to know… that I will always feel grateful to your nephew. For several reasons.”

She reached out to touch his hand, understanding in her eyes. “Thank you” was all she said.

There were many things Fred Thursday had not expected when he had requested to be transferred to Oxford. He certainly could never have foreseen that he would arrest an opera star for murder, and the tiger had been a nasty surprise.

When he had first laid eyes on a thing young colleague with russet curls frowning at a file, he certainly hadn’t imagined that he’d be part of his family one day.

And yet her they were, almost an entire year after the Henderson case.

By the time he came downstairs, the cooking of another full English breakfast was in progress, with Sam and Joan pranking – or well, the former trying to prank Dev and the later often commenting on it just in time.

“Good morning?”

“Good morning” They all chorused.

“All’s well, then?”

“Yes, thank you, very well” Dev replied, using the spatula to poke Sam in the ribs to get him away from the eggs.

Fred smiled. “That’s what I like to hear, son.”

Yes, there were many things he had not expected.

But if there was one he was never going to complain about, it was most definitely this.