Chapter Text
Morse couldn’t remember the last time it rained this hard, it poured down so heavily it looked like thick sheets of water falling from the sky. it blurred his vision, making it difficult to make out objects in front of him in the dimly lit back streets.
As planned, the car thief had made an appearance, trying to force his way into the purposefully placed vehicle. Only before Morse was close enough, he heard the noise of footsteps and bolted. He, Strange and a handful of PCs on the stakeout had dispersed down the back streets trying to catch up to the man.
Morse was running down the alleys, soaked to the bone. He was glad he didn’t wear his jacket now though; it wouldn’t have saved him from the rain, it’d only have weighed him down as he scrambled after the dark clothed man.
Morse was cautiously edging around a corner, cursing the poorly lit passageway and his inability to see more than five meters inf front of him.
He made his way into the street, trying to listen out for footsteps or anything that would suggest where the man had run off to. Surely, he couldn’t be far.
There was a small thud of a footstep behind him.
Shit, behind him.
He tried to spin around the face the owner of the noise.
But he couldn’t, he was too slow.
The man landed a sickening blow to the back of Morse’s head with the same crowbar he’d used to try and break into the car.
He was vaguely aware of a thrumming pain before darkness claimed him.
Strange didn’t appreciate the choice of evenings for this stakeout. The heavens were well and truly open, and he couldn’t understand why it hadn’t been called off. He should be at home, cooking a joint of ham for dinner in front of the fire and watching the footy, not drowning in rain running after some car thief.
He had no idea how long he’d spent roaming the backstreets, only coming across one of the PCs running around frantically with his baton out in front of him during his search.
Strange decided the likelihood of finding the man was very slim, it had been too long since he bolted from the scene, there was no way he’d stick around. If the man had any sense, he’d be at home already, drying himself off. Jim determined it would be best to call off the search, turning to head back to the meet point.
He rounded a few streets, slowly finding his way back to the square before something ahead of him caught his eye, but he didn’t want to see what his eyes were showing him.
Morse was face down on the floor, his left side raised slightly by the dark wall to his side.
He couldn’t even tell if he was breathing.
‘Shit. Shit. Bloody hell’ is all that ran through Strange’s mind as he ran over to Morse quicker than he thought possible.
He dropped to his knees beside the DC instantly going to his neck to find a pulse. Slow but it was certainly there.
He let out a weighted breath of relief. “Morse?” He wasn’t really expecting a response, but it made him panic again anyways.
Jim rolled the detective over carefully, trying to see any injuries in the terribly lit alley. The damn rain made it impossible to tell if there was any blood or not. He moved Morse’s back to his chest, supporting him by the shoulders to try and warm the lad up.
“Morse? Morse. Come on, matey.” He shook the unconscious man, but nothing happened. “Morse? Can you hear me?”
Morse didn’t stir, rain still poured down on them, drenching them. Strange had no idea what was wrong, there was nothing obviously wrong with him other than a bruise coming through on the side of his cheek, probably from where he landed.
He swore. No one was ever going to find them back there, he needed to get help. He quickly, and rather unceremoniously, scooped Morse up under his knees and back and quickly made his way back to the square.
“Call an ambulance!” Strange yelled at a PC – PC Corey? – from across the street who immediately jumped into action.
He found shelter under a canopy of a newsagents, grateful to be out of the rain. He laid Morse gently out in front of him.
“Morse, matey, you’re alright. Ambulance is on its way.” He said to Morse who hadn’t stirred even slightly. Thursday was going to kill him.
PCs at the scene started crowding the two detectives, wondering what on earth was going on. One of them had the initiative to cover them with their large umbrella to give them extra protection from the elements. Strange gave the PC a grateful smile.
He kept one hand to Morse’s wrist, monitoring his slow pulse. He had no idea how hurt he was, how injured he could be. He instinctively ran his hand over Morse’s head, trying to figure out why the man was out cold.
There. An obvious lump to the back of his head, no blood.
Strange let out a breath, glad it was hopefully just a slight blow rendering him unconscious. Knowing Morse, he’d wake up and shout at Strange for overreacting and calling an ambulance.
But he didn’t.
The ambulance arrived five minutes later. They took no time putting him onto a stretcher, locking his head in a brace that, if conscious, Morse would certainly protest over and whisked him away. Can’t be too safe with head injuries, they’d said.
Strange followed in the Jag to the hospital, heading straight for the front desk in a shaking panic. “Detective sergeant Strange, I’m here for DC Morse.”
The receptionist looked up tiredly at Strange, clearly having a long day at work. “Mr Morse has been admitted to the ICU, I’m afraid you can’t see him right now.” she said bluntly, looking back down to her files.
Jim blinked. “The ICU? What’s wrong with him?”
He was his superior dammit he should know this. He should know what happened.
The nurse sighed. “Please, Sir, have a seat.”
“But what’s wrong with him? Surely, he doesn’t need to be in the ICU, it’s – it’s only a little bang on the head.” Strange insisted, unable to comprehend the truth being worse.
“A doctor will be with you shortly, please take a seat, detective.”
Strange took a breath and moved back from the desk that he was hovering over. He didn’t know what to do. He was under his orders. He was his immediate superior and now he was in hospital. He didn’t even know what was wrong with him.
He began to understand what Thursday went through every vigil he’d attended.
He blinked.
Shit. He needed to call Thursday.
He quickly found the courtesy phones down the corridor, finding Thursday’s home number on a note in his wallet and dialled the number.
Win answered the phone in her chirpy voice, hearing her call Fred to the phone after asking for him.
“Thursday.”
“It’s Strange, sir.” Is all he could manage. He really should have planned what he was going to say.
“What is it sergeant?” That was certainly his ‘it’s after 9pm and I want to be left alone to watch the footy highlights with Sam’ voice.
“There’s ah- been an accident. Well, not an accident per say, it definitely seemed intentional.” He rambled nervously.
“What’s happened?”
“I’m not sure, Sir. I presume Morse had a run in with the suspect we were following and –“
“Cut to the bloody point, Strange!” Thursday snapped. He didn’t have time for bumbling detectives at this hour.
“He’s in the ICU. I don’t know what happened, Sir.” He stuttered out, voice shaking.
“What?! Damnit, I’m on my way.” He paused in thought. “Has sergeant Jakes been informed?”
Strange caught his breath. It hadn’t even crossed his mind.
“I’ll go by their flat on my way.” He put down the phone quickly.
Thursday didn’t have time to call and warn Jakes before he turned up at his door, deciding it’d be better to break the news, what little news he had, in person.
He quickly knocked on the door. Jakes appeared seconds later “Morse, about ti-“ he stopped, taken aback at the man who definitely wasn’t Morse in front of him.
“Jakes, can I come in?”
“Sir?” He stepped back, letting the inspector step into his living room, and clicked the door shut.
Thursday turned to Jakes, planning his words. “I don’t want you to worry but there’s been an incident, Morse is in hospital.”
“What?! What happened?” Jakes cut in, eyes widening as he absorbed what Thursday said.
“I don’t know, I got a call from Strange not ten minutes ago.”
Jakes couldn’t breathe for a second, unable to swallow the lump in his throat. “But – but it was only car thefts! Surely there’s been some mistake?”
“I’m sure it’ll just be a knock on the head or something. Nothing to worry yourself over too much.”
Jakes nodded, “Let me get my things.” He said disappearing for his shoes.
Thursday couldn’t help but feel guilty for lying to the DS. Since when was being admitted to ICU ever the case for ‘a bump on the head’?
Jakes could feel his anxiety bubble away inside him. It had taken all too long to get to the hospital, even longer to force his legs to carry him to the reception where they found Strange sat waiting.
“What happened?” Jakes asked immediately, stopping not a meter away from Strange who had risen from his seat.
“I don’t know, they won’t tell me anything.” Strange stammered, avoiding eye contact.
Jakes threw his arms up in annoyance. “What do you mean you don’t know? You were there weren’t you?”
Strange took a small step back, staring at the floor. “No, we, ugh, split up to cover more area, we followed the suspect down the back streets. By the time I found him he was down.”
“Down?”
“He was out cold. I couldn’t wake him.”
Jakes shook his head. “This is bullshit! Hey, I need to see a patient, Endeavour Morse.” He almost charged to the desk.
“I’m sorry Sir, you can’t see him right now, you need to wait for the doctor.” The receptionist irately repeated.
Thursday quickly stepped in before Jakes could shout again. “Do you have any information on his condition? anything at all, we just want to know if he’s alright.” He almost pleaded.
The nurse sighed. “I’m sorry, sir, his status is unclear.”
“Unclear? What do you mean unclear?” Jakes spoke up again. He hated the lack of help anyone was giving them. A simple ‘he’ll be fine’ would be enough, but they weren’t telling them anything. Couldn’t they see how desperate he was? It’s a miracle the receptionist wasn’t paying too much attention, or she’d be screaming poof in his face, and the worst thing was he didn’t care. This was Morse. Nothing else mattered.
“Hey, matey, come on. Let’s just wait for the doctor alright?” Strange put a hand on Jakes shoulder, trying to guide him back to the waiting area.
Jakes angrily pushed off the supportive hand, stomping over to the vacant chairs, deep down knowing his irritation towards Strange wasn’t really justifiable.
It was another 30 minutes before a doctor emerged, walking over seemingly cautious. “Are you here for Endeavour Morse?”
The three of them rose instantly. “Yes.” Said Thursday, taking lead.
“Please, take a seat.” The doctor spoke calmly. “I’m Doctor Brown, a neurology specialist. Endeavour’s suffered a blow to the back of the head; he hasn’t regained consciousness but that’s to be expected for a head injury of this type. His vitals are strong, and his motor responses are normal.”
“Sorry?” Strange asked, unable to process the medical jargon through his concern.
“He can move his arms and legs, sir, so there’s no damage there.”
Jakes could feel it coming.
“But-“
There it was.
“His eye response is slow.”
Jakes blinked, what the hell does that mean?
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Thursday asked, reading Jakes’ mind.
“The blow to his head was on the side where the occipital lobe is, responsible for vision... Right now, Endeavour isn’t responding to light.”
“What? What does that mean?” Strange asked again.
“I’m saying that there’s a chance of post traumatic cortical blindness.”
Jakes stared at the doctor, unblinking. “No. no.” He shook his head, panic setting in. “You’ve got it wrong. There must be some mistake. He can’t be.” He rose from his seat and started pacing, trying to process the unfathomable words the doctor spoke.
“Sir, you need to understand this could just be temporary.”
“Could?” Jakes must be imagining it, surely this was a nightmare. Some sick joke. This couldn’t be happening to him. Not Morse. Anyone but him.
“It may return in three to four days but if it doesn’t it’s likely there’ll be lasting damage.” The doctor watched the three men despairing in front of him. “We won’t know more before morning. We’ll continue to monitor him overnight, but I advise you to go home and get some sleep. We can call when he regains consciousness or if there’s any changes.”
“Thanks, doc.” Strange forced out.
Jakes wasn’t going anywhere without Endeavour. “I’ve got to go and see him.”
“Jakes –“
“No. I’m his emergency contact, I’m allowed to see him!” He quickly stormed off towards the ICU, leaving Thursday and Strange with a surprised look on their faces.
They knew how close he and Morse were, but they weren’t aware Morse had taken those kinds of steps.
He arrived at Morse’s room in the ICU finding Morse ‘sleeping’ seemingly peacefully.
He looked almost normal if it wasn’t for the heart monitor and mask over his mouth to help him breathe.
He closed the door and twisted the blinds that covered the window looking onto the corridor, closing off the outside world before taking a seat next to his bed.
“Hey, Endeavour, its me.” He said shakily before taking his hand, relieved to find it warm. “You’re okay. You’re gonna’ be okay.” He whispered over and over, letting the tears he’d been trying so hard to hold back escape.
“I’m here, Morse. Right here.” He gave his hand a soft squeeze, brushing the curls from his forehead with the other.
“I need you to be strong Morse, okay? You need to wake up for me. Please, love.” His voice broke on every word. How could he expect Morse to be strong if he couldn’t be himself?
“I need you to come back to me, Endeavour. I know you can.”
But he didn’t. the doctor was right, he hadn’t shown any signs of waking up at all. But there also weren’t any bad signs either, which he took some relief in.
He dozed off in the uncomfortable chair at some point, waking to Thursday slipping in mid-morning. “How is he?”
Jakes wiped his hands over his face. “No change.” His hands shook in front of him. God, he needed a cigarette.
Thursday closed the space between them before putting a firm hand on Jakes’ shoulder. “He’s going to be fine, Jakes. Just temporary.”
Jakes shook his head, holding his hands tightly together in his lap. “You don’t know that. He could be like this forever.”
“He won’t, Peter. This is Morse we’re talking about, he’s too stubborn.”
Jakes smiled slightly. It was true, it wouldn’t be like Morse to give up, but he’d never been faced with the prospect of losing one of his senses before. He should be glad it wasn’t his hearing; Morse would cease to be Morse if he couldn’t listen to opera.
“Why don’t you step out for a few minutes, Jakes. Get some fresh air? Can’t be good being all cooped up in here.”
Jakes looked to Morse uncertainly. He didn’t want to leave him alone. What if he woke up and he wasn’t there? What if on top of waking up possibly blind and confused, Jakes wasn’t there for him?
Thursday read his anxiety. “Doesn’t have to be long. Just time to stretch your legs.”
Jakes nodded, placing Morse’s hand back onto the bed and quietly shuffled out of the dull room.
Jakes found the smoking area through one of the hospitals side doors that lead into a floral garden next to one of the annexes. Some part of the painful building had to be beautiful he guessed, looking at the peonies and roses that lined the paths. He found a bench to perch on and lit a very needed cigarette.
How had everything gone to hell in a handbasket so fast? He was sat at home, watching some crappy soap, waiting for Morse to come home and all of a sudden, he was faced with the chance that Morse might never be Morse again.
Morse couldn’t be blind, it’d destroy him. He’d lose his job, his independence, everything he cared about. Other than Peter, of course. He’d made sure he was the one thing in Morse’s shit show of a life that he could count on. Someone he could always rely on when everything else was uncertain.
Thursday took the seat, still warm from Jakes’ presence.
“Alright Morse, its Thursday.”
He said, putting his hand over Morse’s, happy to feel it was warm. Too many times he’d taken a cold hand and feared the worst. Morse was very much alive and – almost – well.
“You need to wake up lad, people are starting to worry. Wins going out of her mind, hell, I’m going out of my mind.”
“Don’t think Jakes is doing well without you either.” He added softly
He decided from this moment he was banning Morse from any sort of police work that wasn’t desk duty. He’d damn well had enough of sitting by hospital beds waiting for Morse to wake up.
“Come on lad, you can do this.” He squeezed his hand, praying Morse would return it. he didn’t.
Fred let out a sigh, watching the even rise and fall of Morse’s chest. At least there was never a threat to life this time, Fred thought solemnly. Usually it was a brush with death that resulted in these vigils, but he couldn’t decide which was worse. Even in the worst situations, the doctor often came with the ‘expected to make a full recovery’ and he damn well always did. But this time wasn’t the same. They didn’t know if he’d ever recover.
Thursday was surprised feeling tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn’t remember when he started to cry, but he couldn’t stop. His brilliant young lad was blind. He knew how badly it would affect Morse and it broke his heart, he only prayed to god it was temporary. He couldn’t lose another bagman, even if he were still alive. You can’t be a copper without your sight, hell, it was hard enough persuading the police physician his eyesight was good enough at his annual exams. Morse would lose his job. Lose his purpose. He couldn’t think about it. it was incomprehensible.
Jakes was out of his mind with worry. Morse still hadn’t woken up. Even three cigarettes hadn’t taken the edge off his nerves, silently wishing he could try drowning them in alcohol.
Thursday had returned to the station a little while after he’d come back to Morse’s room, CID unable to spare three detectives at once.
Hours passed but there was still no change. Not even a small sign of Morse waking up and it was slowly breaking his heart.
A nurse came in just after four o’clock, checking his vitals. “sir, we’re going to take him for some tests soon, so you’ll have to step out for a while.”
Jakes stared at her, trying to understand what she was saying. He wanted to protest but he knew it was futile. He nodded absently.
“He family?” the nurse asked.
“Ugh, no. just a friend.” Just a friend and possibly the love of my life who may or may not be permanently blind, Jakes internally corrected.
“Well, I’m sure the tests won’t take too long.” She smiled and left the room
Peter looked to the door, making sure there wasn’t anyone around before he leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Morse’s forehead. “I’ll be right back, Morse.”
Typically for Morse he chose to move as soon as Jakes let go of his hand.
Jakes was almost out of the room before he heard the sharp intake of air. He spun round immediately, finding Morse grabbing at the face mask, struggling to control his breathing.
“Morse!”
He ran to the bed, pulling the mask off, “Hey, hey. It’s okay Morse, you’re okay.”
But Morse wasn’t looking at him. “Peter?”
“Morse.” He said, taking Morse’s face with both hands and hovering over his line of sight. “I’m right here Endeavour.”
“Peter? Peter?”
“I’m here Morse, right here.” Jakes insisted, holding his face Morse firmly.
Morse’s hands came to his wrists and he looked in his direction. “Peter?! where – where are you?”