Chapter Text
Morse always knew he was different. His Mother had explained it to him one day.
"You're unique, Endeavour. You possess the ability to do something no one else can," she told him.
"So why can't I show others what I can do, then?" he'd asked with some confusion.
Surely that would make him popular? When his friend Billy had learned to ride a bike before all the others in his class could, he'd shown off his new talent to the applause and cheers of all his class and their teacher, Mrs Grimes.
"This is different. They wouldn't understand," she'd tried to explain.
The fact was, that he didn't understand, not really, why he had to hide what he could do, but he'd trusted his mother. If she said he should keep it hidden, then he would... for now, at least.
He'd practice with his ability in his room at home. He'd stand in front of the wall in his room, the one with the intricate leaf patterns on it. He'd concentrate hard and watch his hands and arms slowly change colour, along with the rest of him. He'd focus until he was covered in the same leaf patterns as the wallpaper.
His mother would come into the room and look around for him.
"Endeavour?... Endeavour, are you in here?" she'd asked one time.
He sneezed, giving his location away as he instantly turned back to his normal colour and was visible straight away.
"Oh, Endeavour! That was really good! I couldn't see you there at all!" his mother had grinned at him.
He'd inherited his grandfather's chameleon gene.
He'd always got a warm, happy feeling when his mother smiled at him and praised him. He wanted to make her proud of him.
"I always change back when I sneeze," he'd said with disappointment.
"That's only because you haven't fully mastered it yet. Once you get full control over your ability, you'll be able to stay transformed no matter what," she'd explained to him.
One summers day, Morse had been playing in the garden, when a small robin landed next to him and began to sing. Morse was transfixed, listening to the happy sounds the little bird made. He sat very, very still and after a couple of minutes, the little robin landed on his hand and continued to sing. Endeavour had never felt so happy.
Suddenly, it flew away, startled by the sound of a lawnmower bursting into life in the next garden over.
Morse wished he could fly, like the robin. He'd lay down on the lawn then and closed his eyes, imagining what it would be like. He'd imagined he had wings and was lifting himself up from the ground.
He'd begun to feel strange, an unusual floating feeling. He'd opened his eyes and realised with shock that he was about six feet up in the air. Everything around him looked huge. He'd begun to panic. What was happening? He'd felt himself spinning round, upside down, side to side...
Then he'd landed with a thud on the lawn.
His mother had come running out to him, then.
"Endeavour! Endeavour? Are you alright?" she'd said, with concern.
"I don't know. What happened?" he'd asked her, with a frown, rubbing his hip, where he'd landed rather hard.
"You'd better come inside dear."
His mother, Constance had led him into the house and sat with him on the sofa.
"Endeavour. I think you might have inherited both of your grandparents genes," she'd begun.
"...usually only the genes of one parent or the other get passed down at a time. It seems that not only have both been passed down, but they've skipped a generation past me, and gone straight to you, my love."
Endeavour had frowned then, not really understanding, but continued to listen intently as his mother continued to explain.
"I was watching you from the kitchen window, when that robin flew away. You changed into a robin, Endeavour! You flew!" she'd exclaimed.
Endeavour looked at his mother with wide eyes.
"I did?" he'd asked, dumbfounded.
"Yes! You did! Only for a few seconds, then I think you startled yourself and changed back, then fell onto the ground!" she grinned at him.
She'd told him, then, that her father had been a chameleon and her mother had been a shapeshifter. She remembered when they'd play tricks on one another, with her mother changing into a monkey sometimes and jumping out at her dad and making him jump. Her dad used to make her mother jump in return by blending in to his surroundings and shouting 'boo' as she'd walk past him. She'd loved to see them so happy and playful with one another.
When her parents had realised that their unique genes hadn't been passed down to her, they'd realised that any children Constance had would likely develop into either a shapeshifter or a chameleon and so they had taught her all they could about the subject.
"Incase your children inherit either of our abilities. They will need to know what to do. You'll need to know, so you can teach them," they'd told her.
"So, I can change my appearance to blend in, like a chameleon and I can change into other things, like a shapeshifter?" he'd asked her with wide eyes.
"It looks that way. You'll have to be very careful though. Remember how you practice with your colour changing, and how you've slowly been getting better at it?"
"Yes."
"Well, you'll need to practice very carefully with your shapeshifting. It was lucky you only fell about six feet onto the soft grass today. Maybe you should practice with a safer, smaller animal first?"
"Robins are small!"
"I was thinking maybe of an animal that can't fly," chuckled his mother.
"Oh."
After that day, Morse did practice. Every chance he got, while he was at home, he'd change his colour several times, until he got quicker and quicker at it and more controlled. He change to the colour of his wallpaper, then sniff some pepper and make himself sneeze, until, one day, when he sneezed... he didn't change back. He'd waited a few moments then changed back when he decided to. He finally had control over it.
The shapeshifting was more difficult. His mother taught him that he had to actually have touched the animal or person or plant he wanted to change into, in order to change. That's why he'd been able to become a robin, because it had landed on his hand. He'd now be able to change into a robin, whenever he wanted.
He'd picked up a pencil then and screwed his eyes shut in concentration, only opening them a few moments later at the sound of his mother's giggles.
"Oh, Endeavour! You can only change into living things! You can't change into a pencil!" she'd laughed.
Endeavour had laughed as well.
He'd tried it on a bush in the garden. He'd run his hand through its leaves, then concentrated really hard. He could feel something happening and as he looked down at his arms, they'd transformed into large leaf covered, bushy branches. He tried to run into the house then, to show his mother, but it was then he remembered... bushes can't walk, let alone run. So he'd had to change back and go and describe it to her.
"I'm so proud of you, Endeavour," she said, giving him a big hug.
"So, who will I be able to tell?" he'd asked, getting so excited over his new found talents.
"It's best if you only tell people you can trust. Some people might be scared of what you can do."
So, he'd kept his secret close to his chest from then on. Only changing at home, when he was alone, or with his mother.
After she'd passed away, he'd had to go and live with his father, Cyril and his step-mother, Gwen. They hadn't known about his abilities. His mother had explained to him that his chameleon gene hadn't become active until after his father had left and it was some time after that when he'd discovered his shapeshifting gene. So when he'd had to go and live with his father, he'd kept what he was, a secret at first. After a little while, though, he'd told himself, 'if I can't trust my own father, who can I trust?'.
So he'd told them. They'd just laughed at him, thinking he was telling them things he'd made up in his imagination.
"Don't be so stupid, son. That's all superstition. Shapeshifters and chameleons are all a load of cobblers! They don't exist!" said his father, harshly.
So he'd decided to show them. He changed into a robin, right in front of them... in the lounge. Then he'd flown round a couple of times and landed on the back of a chair before taking off again and swooping around the ceiling light.
He'd expected them to smile and watch him in wonderment, like his mother had done, but Gwen screamed and swatted him as he flew past and he'd fallen to the floor with a crash and a tangle of arms and legs as he'd changed back almost as soon as she'd hit him.
"What the hell are you doing?!" she'd shrieked at him.
"I wanted to show you what I can do!" he'd said sadly.
"Well, I'll tell you what you can do! You can go to your room, you little freak!" Gwen had shouted at him. His father just scowled at him, making no attempt to defend him to Gwen. They'd been afraid of him, he could tell. But more than that... they'd hated it. Gwen had called him a freak.
He didn't change in front of them again.
He'd kept his abilities a secret when he'd left home, when he'd gone to university, when he'd been engaged to Susan, when he'd joined the army. He'd never told anyone, for fear of being ridiculed and cast out, like the freak that Gwen said he was.
He understood now... his mother's words... 'They wouldn't understand'.
When he'd joined the police, he'd had to declare that he was a chameleon and a shapeshifter on his application form and this information would be recorded on his file, albeit kept classified. But just to be on the safe side, he never changed in front of anyone, nor did he ever speak of it.
He'd been sent to Cowley from his own station in Carshall Newtown a few weeks back to help with a case. He'd been approached by the D.I. at the time, Fred Thursday, with an offer to become his new bagman.
Morse had jumped at the chance. He didn't feel like he could settle in Carshall Newtown, and CID had always taken his fancy. So, now here he was ...a detective ...with Cowley CID.
Most of the time, it was just him, D.I. Thursday and his sergeant, D.S. Peter Jakes. They worked the cases they had, between the three of them. He found Thursday to be the father figure of the team. Solid, dependable, very knowledgeable. Morse could tell, he was going to learn a lot working with him. He was quick to speak his mind and equally quick to give praise.
Jakes was more of a cocky sort, Morse found. He was always joking around, making little comments here and there, very often at Morse's expense. Morse didn't really know what to make of him. He knew his stuff and seemed to be very good at his job, though.
Time would tell.
-----
Morse woke with a start that Monday morning. It was always the same, after a couple of days off. He had to make that little bit extra effort to get out of bed.
Once he was up, however, he was usually able to shower, dress and down a quick cup of tea in under fifteen minutes.
He made his way to the police station, where he checked what was going on and booked out the sleek black jag that he so enjoyed driving.
He made his way over to Fred Thursday's house to pick him up. He parked the car outside and made his way up to the door. He jumped slightly when it swung open just as he was about to ring the bell.
"Morning Morse! Sorry, can't stop to chat, I'm running late! I have to be in early to help open up this morning! Bye Morse!"
"Goodbye Miss Thursday," Morse called after her.
And Joan Thursday, his bosses daughter was gone, in a flurry of words and a flash of colour as she practically ran down the road in her red coat. Morse didn't even have time to offer her a lift, which he would have done, if she'd stood still for long enough and given him a chance.
"You coming in, lad?" said Thursday from the hallway.
"Oh, yes. Morning Sir."
"I thought our Joanie was going to run you over! The way she barrelled out the front door!" he chuckled.
"Should I follow her, Sir? See if she'd like a lift?"
"No. She'll be fine. She's just fretting is all. Her bus isn't for another ten minutes, she'll be at the stop in plenty of time."
"Right."
"Anything in?"
"Yes, actually. A body's been found, about half an hour ago."
"Oh yes? Where?"
"In the mortuary. Doctor Debryn called it in."
Thursday gave Morse a look.
"Oh very funny, Morse! Have you considered that our good doctor might just be having you on?" Fred laughed.
Morse realised how ridiculous it sounded as he passed the job.
"There really has been a body found, Sir. When Doctor Debryn let himself into the mortuary this morning, he double checked all the bodies that should be there. He was expecting four. They were all there in the freezers along with an extra one, Sir."
"An extra one? Well, where's that come from then?"
"He doesn't know. It wasn't there when he clocked off at eight o'clock last night and he locked up and handed the keys over to the night worker as he left. He spoke to the night worker this morning, and as there were no deaths reported overnight, he had no need to unlock it and go in. In fact, he spent the entire night upstairs in the main hospital helping the nurses out. He just handed the keys back to Debryn this morning."
"Cause of death?"
"Debryn says he's been stabbed in the chest, Sir."
"Right then, we'd better get going."
Win Thursday walked into the hall while they were talking,
"Morning Morse, dear. Have you got time for a bite to eat?"
"Hello, Mrs Thursday, sorry, not this morning!" smiled Morse.
"We've got to get going love," said Thursday, giving his wife a kiss.
"Maybe tomorrow then?"
"Yes, hopefully," said Morse.
Win passed Fred a packet of sandwiches.
"Come home safe."
She waved them off as the climbed into the jag and drove away.