Chapter Text
There were some Time Jumpers who pretended they are were kind of chosen ones; heroes who regularly got thrown back in Time and made sure everything went the way it should.
Fred wasn't one of them. Mostly, he looked upon it as a bloody inconvenience, being ripped from the Time one knew so well for hours or maybe days and having to make sure one didn't step on any those in the past because there was a chance that could lead to Changes, and no one wanted that. Changes had been prohibited by Our Lady Time Herself, long ago, when the first Jumpers had learned of their ability.
Granted, there had so far never been a Change, or at least not one big enough for people to become aware of it. Our Lady Time had a knack to look after Herself, not to mention that in dire circumstances, the Time Guard would be ready to intervene.
Speaking of... "Morning, Fred."
"Good morning, John." Fred wasn't too keen on Sergeant Keel, but he did an important job and, what was of even higher significance, he did it well.
"About Time for your next Jump, isn't it?"
He sighed. "Yes. My guess is sometime next week."
"Ah well, just do what you always do."
"Not my first Jump" he said, feeling slightly irritated. The last thing he wanted to contemplate first thing in the morning was Jumping. He'd always be grateful that neither of the children had inherited his abilities.
Morse, who'd picked him up like most mornings, was already sitting at his desk, laboriously typing away at a report. Good. Police work. Get him up the ladder sooner.
"Indeed not. See you around, Fred." And Keel left after having bestowed a glare on Morse - small wonder; he was an excellent Time Detective, but also old-fashioned. He didn't like Morse's methods.
"They say he's already dealt with at least five fractures in Time" Strange said, following Keel with wide eyes.
"That’s his job" Morse, who never participated in station gossip, said, and Fred suppressed a smile. Trust the lad to stop such talk in its tracks.
He went into his office.
It always happened the same way - one minute he was going about his day, the next the world was spinning and then he was somewhere else.
Or rather, Somewhen else.
He'd been wrong - today was the day of his next Jump.
He sighed and got up from the ground, hoping that this stay would be short. Automatically, he muttered a quick prayer to Our Lady Time, like he had been taught when he was just a boy and didn’t know he was a Jumper yet.
The first thing he always did when he Jumped was look for a newspaper so he’d know what year it was, although after years of praxis, he had a pretty good idea. This felt like 1946 to him.
He was proven to be right when he purchased a paper from one of his informants, now of course much younger. He didn’t ask any questions; One of the good things about Time Jumping was that only other Jumpers ever realized who one was. He could have gone straight up to Win and she wouldn’t have recognized him.
Of course there was always the risk of –
“Oh.”
Exactly this.
He turned around to face himself – literally; and wondered if he’d ever really been that young.
“What year?” his younger self asked, studying him.
“1967” he answered. He didn’t remember meeting himself, of course; if there was something he’d learned from being a Jumper, it was that memories were incredibly unreliable.
He nodded. Even back then, he’d already had his fair share of Jumps behind him and had known how it was. “Got everything you need?”
“Yes, don’t worry.” He’d learned to make doe with the clothes on his back and the little money he had early on.
“Any plans?” Most Time Jumpers were as matter-of-act as Fred himself when they met themselves, he believed; it was the only way to deal with it and still stay somewhat sane.
And, suddenly, an idea popped into his head. “Just thought I’d check up on a friend of ours. Up in Lincolnshire.”
“I assume that’s a new friend.”
“Known him a couple of years. Name’s Morse.” He*’d been rather curious about Morse and his history for a while now, and with how he’d been handling being locked up for nothing but running to help Fred…
Yes. He wanted to check up in Morse. 1946… his mum must still be alive, right? And anyway, no one ever Changed anything. Not the important stuff. Fred would just have a quick look around, and that would be it.
“Alright, then”. A slightly awkward silence ensued, but Fred assumed (although he couldn’t remember… or Remember, but then, Remembering was always more complicated) that this was always the case when he met his younger(older self. “I guess I’ll… see you around.”
“With Time, may She be blessed” he said courtly before walking away.
Again, there had never been a true Change in living memory. Fred was very aware of that, and so, he thought little about renting a car and driving to Lincolnshire. Worst thing that could happen was that he’d be zapped back into his present, leaving an empty car.
The only reason he even knew where to head exactly was because he knew Morse’s file by heart – really, getting personal information out of the lad was like pulling teeth. Still – there were a few things he’d picked up over the years; and so he knew he could expect a loving mother and a happy child.
It would be something, he suddenly thought, to see Morse completely and utterly happy.
How depressing it was.
He concentrated back on his driving.
He strolled down the streets of the town Morse had grown up in until his mother had died, wondering how he was supposed to find him after all. When the thought had first occurred to him, it had been the most logical thing in the world to check up on him – for whatever reason; but now…
And yet, he got lucky.
He’d just rounded a corner when something smacked right into his legs. “Sorry, mister!”
He didn’t need the calls of the woman running towards them – didn’t need the sound of “Endeavour!” ringing in his ears to know who it was who’d just stumbled into him. He’d have recognized those eyes everywhere, even if they were currently staring up at him from the face of an about nine year old boy.
“I’m very sorry” Mrs. Morse told him.
She really had been an exceptionally handsome woman.
“I didn’t mean to” Morse piped up “But Mum promised we’d go to the park!”
He couldn’t hide his smile. Morse as a child – Our Lady help him – had been cute. Adorable, in fact. With the russet curls and the easy smile he’d lose when his mother died, he looked like exactly the boy everyone imagined when they decided they wanted children. “To the park. Now that’s something worth being excited about.”
Morse nodded enthusiastically. “And afterwards, we’re going to the library!” Seemed like he was already a bookworm, and not even in his teens yet. Fred couldn’t say he was surprised.
“Now, now, Endeavour” Mrs. Morse said gently. “What did I tell you about talking to strangers?”
“Sorry, Mum.” He turned back to Fred. “I’m just excited, Mister.”
“Anyone would be” he told him, reaching out and ruffling his hair on an impulse. It seemed that this version of Morse was not yet as unused to physical displays of affection as the adult Fred knew would eventually grow to be, since he just grinned at him. “You’ve got a good lad there, Mrs.” He told his mother.
Her proud smile was answer enough.
A she watched them walk away, something in Fred’s throat constricted at how obviously happy they were, and how soon that would be taken from them.
And he couldn’t warn them. Those were the rules, and anyway – no one who had ever tried to Change anything had accomplished the task.
He holed himself up in a charming little B&B down the road and waited. There was little else he could do. There was no point in returning to Oxford; he’d just magically appear back in his office no matter where he was when he Jumped.
Sometimes, Fred regretted that he didn’t have more control over his abilities; but he usually remembered that Jumpers with control could easily go bad, and was glad that all of this evolved around chance and good luck.
For some reason, Morse wouldn’t leave his thoughts though. Such a sweet little lad, as Win would undoubtedly have said. And only a few years away from heartbreak.
And Mrs. Morse had been so polite, too. Constance, Morse had once told him her name was.
It was the worst thing about being a Jumper. Knowing what would happen, and not being able to do a damn thing about it – hell, even if could have, it would have been forbidden, the laws having been put in place centuries ago just in case someone ever figured out how to Change things.
But even if he’d been capable of doing something, even if he’d been capable and allowed to do something – what could he have done? Mrs. Morse was doomed, doomed never to see her child grow up into the exceptional man he was going to be. It was inevitable, and it was unfair, and no matter how much Fred regretted it, he couldn’t prevent it.
That didn’t keep him from visiting the local Temple and leaving an offering for Her, though. After all, who knew.
And so he waited.
It took three days – really, not that long; in his youth, just after his abilities had first manifested themselves, he’d usually been gone for a week – until he felt the familiar pull and was suddenly back in his office again.
As always, he breathed a sigh of relief and quickly strolled out of the room to get his bearings.
“Sir!” Jim Strange immediately stood to attention.
“How long?”
It was rather unusual for more days to have passed than he’d experience for himself, but it was always better to check.
“Three days, sir.”
That was alright, then. “Good, in that case –“ he stopped talking abruptly when he realized.
There was someone else sitting at Morse’s desk, someone who gave the definite impression of belonging there even though he didn’t.
Now, there was no reason to think something was wrong. He had returned confused and bewildered before; maybe he was making a mistake…
But no. This was Morse’s desk, only that right now, it very much wasn’t.
Think, Fred, think.
He cleared his throat. “WPC Trewlove, would you mind terribly making me a cup of tea?”
“Of course not, sir. I’ll bring it to your office.”
He nodded and returned there, all but ripping open open the desk drawer where he kept the personal files of the officers he came in daily contact with.
But no matter how often he went through them, there was none marked Morse.
The heavy feeling that had settled somewhere behind his breastbone increased. Something had happened.
Things had Changed.
But that wasn’t possible. Everyone knew that the big things didn’t Change.
And Morse not being his bagman, Morse not even being a policeman apparently…
It was too big a thing. It couldn’t be.
And yet here he was, with his memories full of Morse, when someone else was sitting at his desk, doing his work.
He knew the new memories would come eventually, of course. Knew he would be able to Remember. Normally his recollection of events was a bit shaky immediately after he’d returned, but it would happen.
But this was urgent. He had to act before that.
He needed to speak to Keel.
But before he could even get up from his desk, his door was thrown open and someone rushed in. “Jim called to tell me you’re back!”
He was drawn into a hug before he could even realize he was currently talking to Morse. Although, when he pulled back, it became clear that this was not the Morse he knew so well. No, this one was wearing a better suit, had put on a few pounds (finally) and was smiling the happy, innocent smile he’d last seen on a child’s face over twenty years ago.
Relief almost knocked him over. At least Morse was here. Now they could –
And then he turned Fred’s world upside down once more.
Because Morse looked at him and said, “Let’s have lunch then, Dad.”