Work Text:
Lewis lay thinking about Val and Morse, having woken early in the morning and been unable to get back to sleep. He became aware of a presence in the room. He sat bolt upright and pulled the quilt back up over him, staring, unbelieving, at the end of his bed. What he saw made him gasp out loud. Morse was sitting at the end of his bed with a beer glass in his hand, half full.
“Um,” said Lewis, confused, convinced he must have fallen asleep and was dreaming.
“Good morning Lew-is.”
“Um.”
“Are you going to speak at all?”
“Um?”
“Apart from ‘um’, obviously?”
“Are you really Morse?” Lewis asked, questioning his sanity.
“Yes, and I want a word with you.”
“With me?” Lewis asked, astonished, pointing to himself.
“Yes. Now,” the ghost or whatever of Morse said, pointing down aggressively, finger going through quilt and Lewis’ leg. It made Lewis go cold all over and his leg numb. He shivered.
“I hear you and James are getting ‘married’?” the ghost or whatever went on. It was Morse, alright. Lewis could hear the speech quotations.
“Well, yes we are,” Lewis replied, thinking ‘How the hell do you know that Sir? In fact, how are you here at all and is it your business anyway?’
“In that case, Lew-is, I wanted to say I am very protective of that boy so you make sure you look after him!”
“What?!” squeaked Lewis in shock, but the room was empty, Morse had already gone.