Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In the end, it was nothing but a coincidence, but a coincidence that would change the course of their lives as a family, even if Sergeant Fred Thursday did not know it then.

At first, the call had not sounded like much – the man who had taken it claimed that “a young voice” had rattled off the address and called for “help” before hanging up. There were lots of children out there who loved to make prank calls these days – nothing too strange about that.

He’d only gone because several of their PCs were ill and Superintendent Crisp had told him “You might as well check it out, Thursday”. And so he had and was now listening to a worried neighbour – she hadn’t called, but was concerned nonetheless.

“I – I know how it sounds, but Constance is – she told me that her ex-husband can get… very angry on occasion. And I saw him come by today, about three hours ago, although I couldn’t tell you when he left – “ she began to wring her hands. “I haven’t seen Endeavour at all– it doesn’t have to mean much, he loves sitting quietly by himself and reading his books, or so Constance tells me, but still –“

“Excuse me?” he asked because he didn’t quite understand, but she guessed what he meant.

“Endeavour. That’s her boy’s name – he’s twelve.”

Endeavour? What kind of name was that?

“It’s a virtue name” she said with the ease of someone who’d perhaps asked the same question. “Constance is a Quaker.”

He didn’t know much about them, but nodded. “I will see what’s going on, Ma’am.”

“Thank you very much, Sergeant.”

Fred had learned early on that the cases with a lot of shouting and screaming and theatrics often meant the opposite. It was more than likely that Mrs. Morse and her former husband were having tea (or perhaps even celebrating their reunion, who knew) while the boy, as Mrs. Grafton had said, was off somewhere, reading…

And then he saw that the door stood ajar and his instincts cried out.

Women who lived alone with their children didn’t leave the door open, no matter what the old customs demanded. No, they were careful and looked after their dearest – as his Win had after he’d gone to war.

Mrs. Morse might not have been like that, naturally, but with how worried the neighbour was…

He knocked and when there was no answer he went in.

And everything changed.

Fred had come to know death in the years he’d been away, fighting a war that had seemed more and more senseless with each passing day, every fallen comrade. He knew its scent, its feeling, its quiet.

No, not quiet – stillness. The emptiness of sound where life had been before.

And this…

He walked through the small hallway and into the first room to the left.

It was the kitchen.

And there, he found them.

A woman – Constance Morse, he assumed – lying on the floor; he knew from one look at her face that all hope was lost.

Which would mean that he ought to leave and call it in, but –

There was a boy, sitting by her, holding her hand. He was looking at Fred with eyes much too big and too knowing.

His first thought was He’ll never be a child again after this.

His second was to draw out his badge and show it to him.

“Police. Sergeant Thursday.”

He relaxed. “I – I called.”

He’d known he had the second he had spied them.

“Please – Mum – she’s –“ and the tears that he must have been fighting against for a while began to spill.

“Yes, I can see that” he said because first and foremost, he needed the boy out of there. “I will look after her – can you go to your neighbour while I do?”

He looked at him, then back at his mum, and Fred almost wanted to tell him he could stay, since this was the last time he’d ever…

“Mrs. Grafton?” he then asked and Fred nodded.

The boy got up. “Sergeant Thursday is going to look after you, Mum” he said softly and then he was gone.

Fred took a deep breath.

At least he could do his work now.

The neighbours had not seen anything, although all of them expressed concern for Endeavour – even one who was on the wrong side of eighty and clearly starting to wander, for when she talked about her murder, she mumbled something along the lines of “You’d think someone like her, being God-fearing and all, would know better than with a married man…” but when he asked, clarified that it hadn’t been Mrs. Morse she was talking about, yet even that he couldn’t be sure about because the next sentence was about Mrs. Morse again, so no help there.

His colleagues arrived fifteen minutes after he had called, which was rather fast, but a woman stabbed to death right in the heart of town would do that.

“You said there was a witness?” DCI Clarke asked.

“Her son, sir. But I haven’t been able to speak to him yet.”

“Why not?”

“I sent him to the neighbour. I did not think he should see all of this” Fred said slowly, and he blinked.

“Yes, yes –“ his eyes travelled to the pictures next to the phone. “How old is he?”

“Eleven.”

“Probably for the best” he decided. “Did he say anything before you –“

“Barely got him to leave her side, sir. He was trying to help.”

He shook his head. “Poor boy. What do we know so far?”

“The neighbour said she saw the ex-husband arrive and heard a quarrel.”

“That makes things easier for us. Wish all cases were like that.”

“I’m not so sure, sir” Fred said, something that had been gnawing at him for a while now making itself known again.

Folks like the ex-husband – yes, they ran, Fred wouldn’t deny that, they often did, but – in such cases, they more often than not took the child with them; and even when they didn’t, they tended to be more – well –

The place should look worse than it did. Ironic, thinking that there was a dead body lying around, but that was how it was. Men who killed their ex-wives were angry and bumbling and heartless, and they destroyed everything in their path – whoever had done this had come in, killed Constance Morse and left.

Still, one had to be thorough, so he decided to go through the house – who knew, one might find a reason for all of this, although he knew there wasn’t most of the time.

The first door he opened upstairs turned out not to lead into Constance Morse’s bedroom, but very clearly the boy’s, although Fred could only tell by the size of the bed.

Joan’s room never looked that clean, that was for sure, and even though he was only two, he had the feeling that Sam would follow his sister’s lead in that.

But Endeavour – again, what sort of a name was that? – clearly liked to have his space tidy.

There were two shelves of books – and, if you asked Fred, a little bit high-brow for a boy his age – Conan Doyle, fine, he’d read one or two stories of his at that age, but Dickens? Vaughan? Wharton?

Seemed like Constance Morse had a clever boy, and had been proud of that fact.

This was proven right when he opened the book lying next to the bed, a bookmark carefully placed in the middle.

Shakespeare’s Sonnets, of all things.

For my Endeavour, on his twelfth birthday.

All my love, Mum.

Now, Fred knew all these new rules about leaving crime scenes undisturbed, as they called it, so he should have put it back exactly the way –

It fit into his pocket, so that’s where it went.

When he returned downstairs, he could find Clarke, Spinner and Morgan nowhere, but a PC told him they’d gone next door to “question the boy”.

Knowing them as he did, he hastened over there.  

He quickly regretted that he had left them alone, for they were all busy questioning Endeavour, who looked close to tears.

He cleared his throat after trading a glance with a very clearly disapproving Mrs. Grafton. “Oy, lad, why don’t you show us the living room?”

He looked so relieved he most definitely felt even guiltier for having had a look around when there was a boy who needed his help.

“I don’t think –“ Clarke began but Fred, even though he didn’t like to one bit – he wouldn’t understand anyway – interrupted him with “Children, sir – he needs a calm environment, that kind of thing.”

“Yes, I suppose – you’ve got kiddies, Thursday, you handle that.”

Well, Spinner had children too, although they were all grown up now, and considering how he treated the boy, he was ready to bet they did not write often.

As soon as Endeavour was sitting in the living room, he mumbled, “Sorry” as he was looking down at his hands.

“Come again, lad?”

He looked up. “I’m sorry I can’t help, I – when – when Dad came, Mum sent me upstairs, and so In went to read my book, and then I heard – I heard shouting and then Mum was screaming and I came downstairs and – and – “

And he burst into tears.

Quite frankly, Fred was rather surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.

Thinking about what Win would have done and what always seemed to help when their own kiddies cried, he pulled him into his arms and patted his back. “There, there, Endeavour, just take a few deep breaths.”

“I want to help” he squeaked in a voice as yet untouched by the breaking of. “I really do, I – they – he – he killed Mum and –“ a few more intelligible words and then a very steady stream of tears and sobs.

No, they wouldn’t get anything out of him right now. And who could blame him? A grown man would have trouble to come to terms with this, never mind a boy.

But well – first of all, they had to take care of him. Then they could start their investigation properly.

And so, he asked as gently as he could (which he feared wasn’t very gentle at all, he simply didn’t have the knack, thank God their own knew him too well to feel intimidated) “Do you have any family in the area?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s – it’s only ever been Mum and me. Dad – “ his lips quivered once more. “I can’t stay home, can I.”

“Oy, it’s fine. We’ll figure it out.”

Now, Fred knew the appropriate channels to call. He also knew how it would end. First, they’d be waiting for hours, then someone, most likely a very uncaring someone who was just doing their job would show up, pack Endeavour up and bring him to one of those terrible homes –

Everyone knew what went on there. The rumours had been flying around for years, but some higher-ups seemed to be involved, and in that case…

“Come on” he told him, “Time to go.”

Endeavour blinked at him, his lips trembling.

“There’s nothing you can do here” he said as softly as he could. The words for your mother didn’t have to be added.

And so, he brought him to a car, told one of the PCs milling about that he had to leave for a bit, and drove.

It was – well, apart from not following protocol it was definitely not the right thing to do considering he hadn’t even found a phone to call beforehand, but he really couldn’t imagine leaving the boy somewhere to deal with all of this on his own.

He hadn’t even asked where they were going, and for someone who was already reading Sherlock Holmes, that seemed rather unobservant –

And so, on a light, he remembered and pulled out the book. “Here. Thought you might want that.”

When Endeavour’s eyes lit up, however briefly, and he clutched it like a lifeline, he knew he had done the right thing.

When it came to taking him home though –

Although it all seemed to work out better than he could have hoped, at least in the beginning.

Now, Win would not have been if she had not first politely greeted Endeavour. “Hello. What’s your name?”

She didn’t even flinch, instead smiled and asked him to go to the kitchen, presumably so she could feed him.

As soon as he was out of hearing, she asked, “Fred, what’s going on?”

Chapter Text

Win reacted exactly as he had known she would.

“Oh, that poor lamb! And you found him next to his mother?”

He nodded. “He’d tried to revive her –“

“Oh, that would be a lot for a grownup to deal with, never mind –“ she shook her head. “I’m glad you brought him here; he needs a good solid meal first and foremost, and not one of those anonymous places where they put children who haven’t got anyone…” and she hurried right into the kitchen to look after the boy, only taking the time to let him know that their own were playing in Joan’s room.

They were busy with checkers (or, well, their version, meaning the moved the pieces around and had fun) when Fred came in, explaining why they hadn’t come running when he returned home; however, he was rather glad about it tonight, since he would have to explain a few things, and Joanie especially could be very curious, and he didn’t think Endeavour would like to have to answer her many questions…

And so he arrived at her room and knocked, as they made a rule. Just because they were kiddies didn’t mean they weren’t entitled to their own space, as Win had told him.

“Dad!” Joan called out and ran to him while Sam chirped “Daddy!”

“Hello you two” he said, getting down on his knees to hug them properly (although in Joan’s case, that probably wouldn’t be necessary much longer – where had the time gone?) “Got a surprise for you two.”

“A surprise, Dad?”

He nodded. “Yes. Downstairs, there’s… a new friend I brought to dinner. He’s –“

He probably should have explained better, or taken more time, because Joan’s eyes lit up and before he could stop her, she’d run out of the room, Sam at her heels because of course he would be.

He sighed. He’d never been the most patient of men, as his wife would have told him, and it seemed he had passed on that trait to their own.

Luckily – he really didn’t know what he would do without her – Win had taken the lead by the time he himself made his way back down.

“Endeavour will be staying with us for a while.”

“Why?” Joan demanded because of course she would.

This was where Fred would have intervened, but Endeavour – well – he simply looked at her and said, “Something happened to my mum.”

Sam was – thank God – still too young to understand, but Joan’s face fell. She glanced at Win, clearly wondering what would happen if ever – “I’m sorry.”

Endeavour’s lips trembled and he looked away.

Sam, again, still too young to understand, nonetheless realized that he was upset and did what he usually did in such situations, which was hugging Endeavour’s hip.

He looked down, rather startled, then, not knowing what to do, glanced at Win, who gave him an encouraging smile, and he hugged Sam back.

That was naturally all their boy needed to decide that he had a new friend, while Joan, probably because she felt sorry for him, immediately stepped up and held out her hand. “Hey. I’m Joan. Joanie for friends.”

He looked at her and then shook her hand with all the solemnity of a college don being introduced to a new fellow.

Sam demanded attention and he looked down, greeting him as well.

Something or other rose in Fred’s chest; a difficult-to-describe feeling that he would only much later admit to himself.

Win nodded at him, understanding in her eyes, and went to set the table.

“Do you need help, Mrs. Thursday?” Endeavour asked, proving what a well-raised lad he was, but she told him to go to the living room with Joan and Sam.

As soon as they were out of earshot, she quietly asked, “Fred, how long –“

“I have no idea” he admitted. “I just thought maybe tonight –“

“Oh, of course he can stay as long as it takes – certainly he’s got family?”

Fred took a deep breath, not really want8ing to admit it, but – “His father is the main suspect.”

Win’s eyes widened. “Oh God. That poor – you did right to bring him here. Has he said anything?”

They were both breaking their old rule, but at the moment he couldn’t have cared less. If they wanted to protect Endeavour… “No. He was in his room.”

“Thank God for that” she breathed. “I know it makes it more difficult for you, but –“

“You’re right: I wouldn’t wish having to deal with that on anyone, and a child…”

“And such a polite, friendly boy at that, after everything… Mrs. Morse obviously raised him well, and did you see how Sam clung to him? He usually doesn’t do that. Joan’s the more friendly one, when it comes to that.”

Yes, it was true – he hadn’t thought of that.

“First things first, we need to get a proper meal into him. He’s a little thin.”

Now, that in itself, Fred couldn’t quite agree with. Yes, he was a bit on the scrawny side, but seemed perfectly healthy, and from what he had seen of the house, Mrs. Morse had been the kind of person who would make sure her boy was looked after and well cared for. Then again, this was Win they were talking about – she tried to feed everyone who ever entered their home, and that included his colleagues.

Joan’s laughter rang out, and he relaxed, not even realizing how worried he had been until that moment. It couldn’t be so bad, if Joanie was laughing.

“Children… they just… don’t dwell on things when they can’t yet comprehend them” Win said softly. “And this is… a lot. I don’t doubt that he will eventually realize and then… but for now, he’s got new friends he’s playing with.”

He nodded, then went to change, although he did take a glance into the living room – as they had suspected, Joan was currently negotiating with Endeavour what games to play, Sam leaning against him with shining eyes.

All in all, it had gone better than he could have hoped.

Despite what Win might think about his figure, Endeavour actually ate quite a bit at dinner – two plates, and did his best to finish off a third; to the lad’s credit, he did ask if he wasn’t taking too much, but Win wouldn’t hear of it, and Fred, remembering very well how much he ate at that age, well, would have if he could, could only agree.

Joan kept up a steady stream of conversation, as Aunt Reenie had dubbed it during her last visit, but since it was mostly centred around school, it wasn’t going to make Endeavour think of his mother all too much, for which Fred was grateful.

Although that moment would come, as he well knew. It was like in the war. In the midst of it all, during combat, with cries and pain and blood everywhere, one didn’t think, one didn’t feel, one just reacted; but then, once everything had calmed down…

There were a few of his old comrades from back then who still got the shakes. He thought it was mostly Win’s influence that kept him from going down the same road.

It really was nothing but instinct that woke him up. He was absolutely sure of that. If there had been the slightest noise, Win would have reacted first.

But as it were, the house appeared still, peaceful, quiet, except for that feeling he could not shake that something was not right.

He slipped out of bed and decided to see.

First, Joan’s room, but there was nothing out of the ordinary – he smiled at the lump on her bed and gently closed the door, then went to see if Sam or Endeavour needed something –

Only Endeavour wasn’t on the camping bed. Sam was sleeping soundly, but ther guest was nowhere to be seen.

Maybe he was thirsty, or he’d needed the bathroom; but no, there was no light there –

Fred went downstairs.

Since his mother had after all just been… his first thought was that… No. He glanced at the front door, but there was no sign of a break-in, and any burglar worth their salt would break in there, despite what people believed. as he knew from experience.

Endeavour’s coat still hung next to theirs, too, so he had not left.

That only left –

He quietly made his way into the living room, and there was Endeavour, sobbing, his shoulders shaking violently.

Just as he had thought, then.

He switched the light on, leaving Endeavour to blink up at him in shock.

“What’s this, then?” he asked mildly. “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shook his head miserably, tears still trailing down his cheeks. “No, sir.”

“Still no need for that.”

He nodded.

Fred sat down next to him and waited. Normally, this –

“I – I found her” he was shaking. “I – I tried to help her – I really tried, I read in a book how to do it –“

He very well might have, but what were words on a page against real pain and blood and death?

“But the bleeding wouldn’t stop and she didn’t wake up and then she – she stopped breathing too –“ another string of violent sobs. “It’s my fault, I did it wrong –“

Oh God, when Fred caught that bastard… “It wasn’t” he said firmly. “The only one who’s at fault is the one who hurt your mother. You did everything you could, and if she were here, she’d say the same.”

He blinked up at him, his lips still quivering.

Fred pulled him into a hug. There was nothing else he could do. If he was right –

Yes; Endeavour buried his head in his shoulder and had a cry out.

He patted his back, simply letting him know he was there for him.

Once the sobs had quieted down, he asked “Endeavour?”

A sleepy mumble was all the answer he got. He wasn’t surprised. After all of this, his body was probably shutting down just so he didn’t have to think about it.

Endeavour was of course somewhat bigger than their own, but Fred still carried him upstairs; he buried his head in his shoulder again, much like they would, and there was that feeling again –

Sam had always been a heavy sleeper, so he could simply tuck him in without waking him up.

Out for the night, he thought with the experience of their own two; good, he needed all the rest he could get, and if he could forget for a few hours…

Win would not have been Win if she had not woken up as he returned, no matter how tired she was or how later the hour. “Fred? What’s wrong?”

“Endeavour had a bit of a cry.”

“Would have been surprised if he hadn’t – poor lamb.”

“He cried himself to sleep.”

“Best thing for him – oh Fred, do you have to take him with you tomorrow?”

The answer was yes, of course it was. Endeavour was their only witness, even if he had not seen anything; he could easily describe the relationship between his parents, if his mother had felt threatened, all those things that were important when it came to such –

But at the same time… Fred had just tucked him in. He’d cried in his arms. And he could never forget that again. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He only feared that the answer would be not much. Of course the Superintendent would insist that Endeavour be brought in, and once he was in the station… there’d be welfare calls and such like, in short, he wouldn’t return to them –

It shouldn’t have seemed as terrible as it was. After all, Endeavour would go be looked after by people who were properly trained or this sort of thing, at least he liked to think so…

Chapter Text

The next morning, Endeavour was quiet and subdued at the breakfast table, but he had hardly expected different, now that everything was starting to come back; Joan and Sam, realizing that their new friend was sad, were on their best behaviour and even got him to smile a few times, which was more than he had hoped for.

Even so, he couldn’t deny that he was worried. Getting along with Win and the kiddies was one thing, but he knew only well enough how his colleagues could be, and with a sensitive boy like Endeavour…

He didn’t let any of that show, of course. For now, he had to take him to the station and see that they got an official statement, and then… well…

He had met quite a few people over the course of his work, and maybe, if one of them thought it would be best if he took Endeavour home with him again…

That was for later, of course.

For now, he watched Joan and Sam tussle to say goodbye to Endeavour, making him promise that he would play with them again this evening (Fred vowed that he would do his outmost to make it happen) and was not the least surprised to see Win hurry out of the kitchen with two sandwiches.

“Now, dear, you do need to eat something, alright?” she brushed a lock of hair off of Endeavour’s forehead.

“Yes, Mrs. Thursday–“

“It’s Win, dear.” She pulled him into a hug. “Now, Fred’s going to take good care of you, and I’ll see you soon.”

He nodded as she pulled back, a few tears gathering in his eyes again, and Fred thought that probably came from him remembering his mother doing something very similar.

They were sitting in the car before the boy said another word.

Then, it was, “Sir, may I ask a question?”

“Really no need for that. Mr. Thursday’s quite good enough” he repeated. In truth, he wouldn’t have minded something less formal, even, but part of him reminded Fred that he had not yet known the lad for longer than twenty-four hours.

“Thank you, Mr. Thursday. It’s just that – you’ve all been very kind –“ it struck him how much older than his years he sounded. Must be all that reading. “But – do I have to go stay with my father now?”

He sounded more upset about this than his mother, at least for the moment, but who could blame him? Being taken from everything he’d ever known, and to imagine that he might be sent away even further… “Nothing’s set in stone yet. There are a few things we have to take care of first.”

He nodded, looking out the window, then asked, “Finding out who did that to Mum?”

“Yes” he told him simply.

A few moments of silence.

“Can I – can I see her, please? One last time?”

Fred felt – if he had had the choice, he would have probably told him no. That it was far more important to remember Mrs. Morse as she had been, the mother who had loved and raised him, than –

But on the other hand – he might not understand that she was truly gone until he had done what he wished to.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Mr. Thursday” he said softly, turning his head to look out the window again.

He wished they weren’t driving. The lad looked like he could use another hug.

The first thing he did was lead Endeavour to his desk. “There you go.”

“Won’t I be in the way?”

He shook his head – if there was one thing he wasn’t in the mood for, it was paperwork; he mostly tried to get out of that anyway.

Endeavour’s eyes travelled to the paper; at first, he wanted to stop him since it most likely contained something about his mother’s murder, but instead, he grabbed it and flipped the pages quickly until he came to the crosswords puzzle.

“May I?”

The clues were usually somewhat too outlandish for Fred anyway, so he told him to go ahead.

He immediately began filling it out – mostly without hesitation; Fred raised an eyebrow. Seemed like they had a rather clever boy on their hands –

But that didn’t mean he could neglect other things, so he told Endeavour to wait for him here while he worked.

He didn’t feel like telling him he had to go to the morgue.

After having made sure Endeavour had a cup of tea while he worked, he set out.

Doctor Phillips was a doctor with several decades of experience under his belt and a no-nonsense attitude that Fred had always welcomed; today, however, probably because he kept thinking of these snapshots of Constance Morse and Endeavour smiling dotted around their home, he didn’t appreciate it quite as much.

“Stabbed. Hit on the head first, though – or to be precise, she fell and hit the ground. Must have knocked her unconscious. Didn’t feel a thing.”

It was somewhat of a consolation, although he doubted it would mean much to a child.

“Of course it would help if she hadn’t been moved –“

“Her son found her and tried to revive her” he said roughly. “Said he read about it.”

“That explains it. Someone did try to resuscitate her, it’s true.. completely useless of course, but given that… how old is the son?”

“Thirteen.”

He shook his head. “Poor little lad. Can’t be easy. Is the father around?”

“Not really, from what I can tell.”

“Happening more and more often, these days…”

Fred did not let on that for now, he was their prime suspect.

“Still, a quick and easy death. Many have it worse.”

That did little for those left behind.

“Especially since…” he hesitated then said, “I don’t think she would have lived longer than one or two years at the most.”

“What do you mean?”

“A degenerative disease… there would have been pain, maybe delirium. Whoever did this probably did her a favour.”

That – he shook his head. So often, it were those who least deserved it who were struck down like that. He had seen the pictures in her home. He knew she had been a good mother. Endeavour’s manners alone were proof of that.

“Still, this can’t be easy… how’s the boy taking it?”

“I don’t think he’s completely understood it yet.”

“That may be for the best.”

“He wants to see her.”

They looked at one another – both of them had served in the war, so even if they had not been surrounded by death all too often now, they would have known what it was like.

“The children often don’t…”

“He’s not like most children”. Even though he had only spent one evening with Endeavour, he was sure of that. He seemed far more mature than his age, and he was so clever…

The doctor raised an eyebrow, then nodded. “He will have to have an adult with him, though –“

“I’ll call Win” he promised as he turned to go, never seeing the surprised glance the other man bestowed on him.

When he returned to the squad room, he immediately regretted that he had left Endeavour there. Not because he wished he’d taken him to the morgue without warning him – no, he would prepare him carefully, that was – but because –

“And you say you saw and heard nothing that could help us, boy? What would your mother think!”

Now, Fred should probably have taken the time and thought about it all – that after all, this was his superior officer as well as three colleagues questioning a witness – and an important witness at that – and that after such a murder as this, tempers were bound to run high; and that one could not just expect that they would be as patient as an experienced father –

But all he saw was that Endeavour was struggling not to burst into tears again, and that none of those around him were ready to comfort him.

“I have his statement, sir” he quickly said, stepping up to them and squeezing the boy’s shoulder. “I talked to the doctor; You can go see your mother.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He had the feeling that reaction had to do with what he had just been through and simply waited for him to get up.

“Wait a minute, Thursday –“

“He asked to see his mother one last time, sir” he said, stressing the last few words.

Crisp blinked. “Ah, I see –“ he glanced at Endeavour who wouldn’t meet any of their eyes, probably realizing that the way he had treated him was not how he was likely to get any results. “Yes, yes – of course – just bring him back for his statement afterwards.”

That was exactly what Fred didn’t want to do, but he didn’t have a choice.

As they walked down the corridor, Endeavour tried to thank him, but he wouldn’t hear it. “It’s quite alright lad” he squeezed his shoulder. “Now, if you get overwhelmed, or scared, don’t feel afraid to say so. Many people do, there’s no shame in it.”

He nodded, looking pale but determined, and Fred knew there was nothing further he could do.

He was rather worried how it would look, but he had to admit that the doctor had done his best – she was covered except for hr face, and she almost looked peaceful.

Endeavour swallowed.

“Hello Mum…” he said quietly, then started to sway. Fred went to grab him, but he righted himself. “I – you don’t have to worry about me, I promise. I’ll be brave.”

Fred glanced at the doctor and saw him blink back a few tears, and he himself was scarcely doing better. Poor little mite, as Win would have said – suddenly all alone in the world except for that father of his who might or might not be responsible…

“I love you, Mum” Endeavour said and then, without showing any sign that he was feeling faint again, collapsed.

Fred was at his side immediately, looking at the doctor. His mother had been ill, what if it was…

But he took his pulse and shook his head. “Just fainted. And small wonder, I say. Please, Sergeant, there’s a couch in my office, he can rest there until he feels better.”

He nodded then scooped him up in his arms.

Certainly, he was a bit too light for a boy his age? But then, that we probably Win’s influence, she’d never managed to bear the sight of a thin child…

He mumbled something and Fred quickly bore him away from the remains of the only real parent he had ever truly known.

By the time he laid him on the sofa, he was waking up. “Mr. Thursday?”

“Oy. Just take it easy.”

He turned his head away in shame. “I – I –“ once again a sob escaped him. “I should have been stronger, I should have – “

He hugged him again. “It’s not your fault, Morse. It’s no one but those – the person’s who did this to her.”

He nodded against his shoulder. And Fred came to a decision.

This was not the moment to worry about what the superintendent would say.

“Oh Fred, the poor boy – I’m, coming, of course, I’m coming. Mrs. Gaskell can look after the children for an hour or so.”

And she hung up without a goodbye.

Fred did the same, feeling utterly relieved. They had to get him out of here, then they could do their work.

Win arrived half an hour later, taking one look at Endeavour’s pale face and whisking him away. He’d barely said a word as they had waited with the doctor.

Fred went back to work.

There was nothing, absolutely nothing to go on.

Fred had never liked the feeling of having no idea what to do, and this time, it was especially frustrating. There was a young boy who was looking at him for answers, and he couldn’t give any…

He lit his pipe, since there seemed to be nothing else he could do.

Chapter Text

Win called sometime later to let him know that Endeavour was helping Joan with her homework, Sam nipping at his heels. “He’s so patient with them, Fred – you should see it – so kind, so gentle” she marvelled. “Just like a big brother ought to be.”

He agreed without thinking and would only later realize what they’d been saying.

“He says he’d like to spend more time with his sister too” Win then informed him, clearly upset “But that his stepmother thinks he’s not mature enough to even look after the baby!”

Ridiculous, as they both knew. But as long as he was safe with them…

The day then brought far more unpleasant, if necessary, news.

He had not been working away long when he heard a commotion in the squad room; immediately getting up, he found a man yelling at Sergeant Dobler, which was not a good idea in general because the man was a lightweight champion.

“Where did you take him?”

Now, Fred should probably have wondered what this was about, but seeing as there was only one subject he really cared about at the moment, he guessed immediately, even if there had (predictably) been no picture of the man in the house. “Mr. Morse?”

He turned to Fred with bloodshot eyes, thereby just cementing the picture he was rapidly forming of him. “Yes. Where’s my son? The neighbour says you took him.”

Took him – he wanted to shout. He truly did. But Win would have told him that he shouldn’t do anything that might harm Endeavour, and it was this thought alone that made him keep his cool. “We did indeed find a place for him.” He purposefully did not call him sir.

 “Well, where is he then? I’m his father, you can’t just –“

“We will need a statement, first and foremost” he said.

“But –“

“Your ex-wife was murdered, and we have a witness who puts you on the scene.”

He mumbled “That bitch” further strengthening Fred’s suspicion that Endeavour was as well-mannered and polite as he was because he had grown up with his mother far away from his father.

No matter how it had ended, he really should have had a few compassionate words for the mother of his child.

“Do you wish to see her?” he asked abruptly.

“What?” he blinked at him. “Why would I –“

“Endeavour did.”

“En – he’s much too young for that!”

“He wanted to” he said, perhaps more sharply than he intended – no – that was a lie – he had sounded exactly how he had wanted to sound. “So I assumed –“

It wasn’t just that he wanted to watch the man squirm – he should have been much more forceful about finding out where his son was. If Fred had been in his place, he would have torn the place apart, and most likely have broken a few noses while he was at it.

Mr. Morse, though? Since Fred had told him that his son wasn’t at the station, he had settled down into a dull anger rather than demanding to see him right that moment.

“What do you need from me, really? We’ve been divorced for over two years, now.”

Not really that long, especially with a child. And yet he’d already remarried and had another baby…

He told himself not to judge too prematurely, after all he was Endeavour’s father, suspect or not, and just for the boy alone, he would be polite.

“We will need to know where you were when Mrs. Morse was attacked” he said. “And then everything you knew about your ex-wife, friends, someone who would wish her harm…”

Even in his alcohol-induced indifference, Morse realized by now what all of this could mean. “I – now wait a minute – Constance and I had no problems at all – yes we divorced but – lots of people do nowadays!”

That might have been true, but even so – he should have been far more upset at her death, and more worried about his son.

“Please this way, Mr. Morse” he said firmly.

And he did not allow any more arguments, instead marching him to the mortuary.

After all, he had to see –

There were two types of murderers, when it came to being confronted with their victims. The first tried to put on a big show, cried, screamed, demanded justice; the other couldn’t bear to look at them.

But Morse – he threw one glance at the woman he must have at least like well enough at some point and paled.

Now, if it had just been shock or grief or even pity, Fred could have respected him for that. But no – he physically couldn’t bring himself to look at her again, there was no sign of care or true sorrow.

Small wonder Endeavour had looked so glum when he’d asked if he had to stay there, then.

The trouble was – he would have to. As far as Fred knew, there were no other relatives, no one had or would come forward, and certainly it was better than having to send the boy to a home…

Now, he was still safe with them for the time being, he told himself, that was what counted.

“What happened?” Morse finally asked – Fred had half a mind to just tell him then and there, but that would have been a little too brutal, so he led him to his office.

“Your – Mrs. Morse was attacked by an unknown assailant around 10:30 in the morning” he told him once they were sitting down. “Endeavour heard the commotion, but when he came down, the attacker was already gone. He was trying to revive his mother when we found him.”

Finally, there was something like concern in the man’s expression. “Did he get hurt?”

“No, but he blames himself. Of course he does.”

He nodded. “He’s always been a very… quiet boy. Keeps everything close to his chest. Never could understand him.”

And normally, Fred would agree – he didn’t think he himself had much in common with Endeavour – he’d certainly not enjoyed spending time with much younger children or reading at that age – but who cared about that when a child needed him?

“He can stay with us for as long as this takes” he said, doing his best to sound not nearly as forceful as he would have liked. “For his safety.”

He blinked at him. “You think… that… well… whoever came after his mother…”

Fred stayed silent since he very much could not afford to actually say it. Let them come to their own conclusions and then do what you want. It was a lesson he had learned in the war, and one that had served him well.

He swallowed.

Now, any real father would –

“Then it’s probably for the best if he stays with you” he said, with one final blow finishing the bad opinion Fred had already been forming of him. If he had been worried about the baby, his wife, all of that would have been understandable, not quite the thing, but understandable, but he didn’t seem to even care one bit about Endeavour, when this should have made him run to wherever he was at the fastest speed possible.

If it had been one of their kiddies…

Of course it wasn’t, he reminded himself, but still. “We will take good care of him” he promised and waited for Mr. Morse to say something else, maybe ask him to give a message to Endeavour, anything that would bring him solace or at least try to, but he only appeared relieved that he could leave the room where ther remains of the woman he must have loved at some point were lying.

He would probably not tell Endeavour about all of this. He was much too young for it, just like he was too young for…

“Now, please, Mr. Morse we have a few questions –“

“Yes” he said. “Can we hurry though? I’ve got to get back to work –“

If it hadn’t been for Endeavour, he would have done something then. His ex-wife was dead, and he didn’t even –

“This way please.”

He didn’t really get any answers, as he had known and felt that he would.

No, he had not seen or talked to Constance in a while – “I called on Endeavour’s birthday” – as if that was enough – she had never spoken of anyone who wanted to harm her – she had been a “nice gal, just not the right one for me” which Fred assumed meant that he had cheated which was why the marriage hadn’t lasted – and he had an alibi, or had at least gone to work on the morning of the murder.

It was – well, it was much of what he had expected.

You knew how certain people would react to things at this, after a while on the beat. And men like Mr. Morse –

Men like Mr. Morse did get married because it was the right thing to do, meaning they thought they “might as well”, and then they became the sort of husband who went to work and came home and had a wife because it was the thing that was expected of them. Meanwhile the wife looked after the children and cooked and cleaned and more often than not worked as well, all without help. And if she asked for help, or told him she was overwhelmed or God forbid complained, as was her right, she was the one making it difficult.

And if she didn’t give up then, if she didn’t stay quiet, if she wanted something better for herself and her child, then it all ended in divorce and a few phone calls and a father who didn’t know his own son because the mother had committed the cardinal sin of wishing to be happy.

Yes, he knew this sort of man. You met them fairly often, especially among Oxford dons.

All in all, it would have been easy enough to let him walk, if not for the witness.

And she had not struck Fred as someone who would just make this kind of thing up…

And yet, he found himself wishing that the alibi would stick. If only so Endeavour wouldn’t have to go through the added burden of knowing his father had killed his mother.

In the end, he let him go.

He’d almost reached the door when he suddenly began,” About Endeavour…”

Fred frowned. “Yes?”

“I – would you give him a message from me?”

“Of course.” Now, this was probably the best way to do it – if this was not – well – Fred would have no qualms whatsoever about not telling Endeavour at all; and certainly Win would agree with him.

“I – please tell him that I’m very sorry about his mother. And that of course he has a home with us – with Gwen and Joyce. Once this is all over and done with…” he trailed off, hesitated, then continued in a stronger voice, “I am sure we will find a way.”

He had underestimated him. There was a bit of responsibility and the remains of a man of honour there after all.  

And it was enough to make him change his mind. “I will tell him.” Even if he had not said when. Let Endeavour calm down a bit, as much as anyone could calm down from that, and then…

“Thank you.”

In the next moment, Cyril Morse was gone, and Fred lit his pipe.

He had a lot to think about.

When he came home that evening, Win hurried to greet him. “The children are colouring in the living room… Fred… Endeavour said he has something to tell you.”

Frowning, he hurried to see them.

Joan and Sam squealed and ran to hug him; Endeavour looked pale and upset – at least when they weren’t looking – and so he sent them to Win with the promise that they would join them soon.

“What is it, lad?”

“Well I – I – the truth is sir –“ and Endeavour looked at him, his eyes brimming with tears. “I believe it’s my fault that Mum is dead.”

Chapter Text

He looked at him, very surprised indeed  – as a matter of fact, he would later think, it was just good luck that prevented him from laughing in his face. He didn’t think he had ever heard a more absurd claim, and he spoke with several decades of police work under his belt.

“I’m sure that’s not true” he told him.

His lips trembled and Fred, guessing what was about to happen, pulled him into his arms.

What followed was the strongest flow of tears he’d seen from the boy since his mother had been murdered. It had only been a matter of time, really.

As if she had known something was wrong – and this was his wife they were talking about, so she probably had – Win hurried into the room and quickly began calming him down as well.

“There, there, dear, it will be fine, it –“

“It won’t!” he exclaimed, proving just how upset he must be – Fred had never met a child with better manners, and for him to forget all about them – “I – I – if it hadn’t been for that – those papers I found –“

Papers? He hadn’t mentioned that before, but then, there had been no reason to, or he had not made the connection – how could he, after all he had been through – so he asked, “What papers?”

He swallowed. “They were – there’s a little park not far from ho – our house. Mum and I go there quite often on the weekends”.

And Fred could easily guess why – money was most likely tight. Cyril Morse had not struck him as the most generous of men, and with a new wife and baby, he probably felt there were more important things to spend his quid on than his growing boy…

“And last Saturday I – I was looking for blackbirds, they nest this time of the year, that’s what the book I lent from the library said –“ been looking for eggs, had he? Fred thought, fighting back a smile. Granted, Endeavour didn’t seem like the kind of boy who would enjoy it but who knew “I wanted to make sure they were undisturbed.”

He felt chastened. “Quite right”. If their children were as well-behaved in a few years’ time, puberty would just fly by.

“And well – that’s when I came across the papers.”

“Could you describe them?”

How could he even have asked such a question, really.

“Could I have a pencil and some paper, please, sir?”

He would have corrected him, but he was clearly focused on one thing, and he’d much rather he did that than remember again.

So, he got him the paper – Win hurried out of the kitchen when she heard the living room door, but he nodded at her to let her know it was fine – and soon, Endeavour was scribbling away.

He imagined he looked quite like that when he did his homework, too, and for the first time, became aware that they couldn’t let this get in the way of his schooling.

He was such a clever boy, a week or two would probably not set him back, but still… although he would probably be more comfortable with changing schools. Word travelled fast, he went back now, he would always be the one with the murdered mother…

“Here” Endeavour announced, handing him the paper, and Fred stared.

He was rather sure that some of his lads would not have been able to produce something like this.

These were release papers from Her Majesty’s Prison Oxford – dated a week prior.

Terrence Wolvercote, it said.

Fred didn’t know the name, but he was somewhat distracted by the fact that he had managed to make it look as close to the original as a child’s drawing could get – he had even remembered the seal on top.

He thought of Cyril Morse and how he did not seem the kind of man to notice something like this and said, “Good job.”

He beamed with pride. “Will this – will this help?”

“We’ll have to wait and see” he said carefully. “But I would be surprised if it wouldn’t in some way.”

He looked – quite frankly, he looked like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, and Fred felt even angrier at the murderer than he had before – it was bad enough that he had taken a life, but that he should do this to Endeavour…

Endeavour nodded, looking at the paper, and Fred felt the need to once more point out, “Whatever happens, this isn’t your fault. This is no one’s fault but the one’s who struck the blow.”

He nodded, still not looking at him.

It must feel terrible that after this all he could do was scribble on some paper.

It was at this moment that Joan came in – she must have escaped Win, or rather more likely, Win had just turned her back, and their girl had wanted to see what their new friend was doing.

She promptly told him, “You look weird.”

“I’m sad” he replied before Fred could stop either of them.

“Oh.” Then, “Is it because of your Mum?”

They might have spared the details, but that didn’t meant their girl wasn’t clever.

He nodded; she reacted by hugging his hip. “I’m sorry.”

He hugged her back, and Fred was struck by how natural it seemed, especially because Sam then joined them as well – but of course, wherever his sister was, there he was sure to go to.

Win then came in and caught his eyes; she then took in the scene in front of her, and her expression softened.

She went up to the children and ran her fingers through Endeavour’s hair. “Well, dear. I do hope they are not distracting you and Fred?”

He shook his head.

“We’re done anyway, pet” Fred said, and she nodded and ushered the children back into the dining room, leaving him to contemplate what he had just learned.

He wasn’t angry at Endeavour for not having remembered right away – of course not.  Once you found your mother in a pool of blood, of course you had trouble remembering certain things.

But clearly he seemed to think…

Then again, he suddenly heard him laugh.

Children – nothing if not resilient. He couldn’t bear to think of it, so he wouldn’t, at least not for now.

And, for what it was worth… he had given them an excellent lead.

Endeavour at dinner was still the same polite, friendly boy he had so far proven to be. Joan wouldn’t stop chattering about the things they had gotten up to that day, and if this had just been a holiday, Fred thought, of the kind where a new friend of their girl’s had come to stay for a couple of days, it would have felt serene –

But it wasn’t, and the dark shadows behind Endeavour’s eyes constantly reminded him of the truth.

Sammy, who was of course too small to understand what was going on, decided Endeavour needed to have fun and dragged him to play as soon as the meal was over, his offer to help clean up notwithstanding.

Win simply stroked his hair and told him to have fun.

“Oh Fred” she said when he told her what had happened. “How awful – just that he thinks –“

“I know – I told him it wasn’t his fault, but you know, things like this –“

“Of course he feels guilty. Just finding his mother like this…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “Poor mite.”

“And yet –“ he hesitated for a moment, the hat stand rule and his wish to tell her in open warfare, but concern for Endeavour won out.

He showed her the piece of paper. “He drew me this. I can’t believe – I don’t think most of the officers at Cowley station would be able to draw something like this from memory.”

“He is a very smart young boy” she said. “I asked him what he had been reading; I figured I might get some books from the library, he should not have to rely and Sam’s and Joan’s books for kiddies  – and he said he and his mum had made “Some progress on the Iliad” lately. Knew the exact translation and everything.”

He wasn’t surprised.

“I thought I might take them to the library tomorrow… it would do him good to think of something else.”

If that was at all possible, but she didn’t have to say it out loud.

He nodded. “Just be careful, pet, whoever did this –“

“Will hardly expect him to stay with us, if he even knows you are on the case”.

She had a point, and really, he didn’t think anything could happen to them right in the heart of Oxford.

And it really would be a good idea to distract Endeavour from everything that was going on.

“And he should get some fresh air anyway. A growing boy needs daylight.”

Whether she really thought that or, since they were not used to an adolescent under their roof, was rather confusing him with their garden plants, he couldn’t say, but he decided it wasn’t important.

Important was that Endeavour should be comfortable (as much as he could) and safe (as far as Fred coulee ensure it) for now. They could deal with the rest later.

He became uncomfortably aware that the rest would mean Endeavour being taken in by his father, but dismissed it for now.

And so, they spent a quiet evening together as – well, as a family, he supposed. How old would Endeavour have been when his parents divorced anyway – he might never have known something like this.

He, Joan and Sam were on their best way to becoming inseparable, as far as Fred could tell – and while part of him was worried what would happen when they had to deal with the inevitable fallout, another, bigger part rather cherished the sight. Their little whirlwind of a girl actually sat still when Endeavour explained something, and Sam seemed to think there was nothing he couldn’t do – from telling stories to helping drive his cars to showing him how to properly clean the dishes, as much as he was able to anyway, something Win had been struggling with, as Fred well knew.

Really, that child had been born to be a big brother – Cyril Morse and his wife had no idea what they were missing out on.

Fred woke up to find Win gone – knowing that she would have alerted him if something was seriously wrong, he knew that it would not be; but still – he got out of bed and went to check.

Only to realize what was going on once he made his way quietly downstairs.

“I – I know I shouldn’t –“ he heard Endeavour cry ever so quietly. “I – she’s gone, and she’s with God, that’s what the others will say –“

“Sweetheart, she was your mother, and you loved her very much. It’s normal to cry.”

“But – but –“ whatever he wanted to say was lost in a few sobs.

Silence for a moment or two and he guessed that Win had pulled him into her arms. “Now, now, I know it’s difficult… I cannot even imagine what it must feel like. Now, why don’t I make us a nice cup of tea and we try to relax?”

Fred stole back upstairs. It didn’t seem like the kind of scene he wished to intrude on.

He was still lying awake when Win returned and quietly said, “I put him to bed in his and Sammy’s room.” Just like that. “He was out as soon as his head touched the pillow, that poor boy…”

“He’s going through a lot.”

“I know, and – oh Fred, the things he mentioned – I know you don’t think his father did it, but even if – isn’t there a way that he wouldn’t have to go live with him?

“I don’t see one, pet” he admitted. “He is his father –“

“But certainly, he should stay somewhere he felt comfortable and cared for?”

“I can only agree.”

“Oh we just have to make it happen, Fred –“

Neither of them admitted what exactly they wanted to made happen, not then.

Chapter Text

The first thing he did the next morning was to see Superintendent Crisp, of course.

To say he was sceptical would have been an understatement.

“He drew that from memory?” he asked, studying the paper. “How old did you say the boy was?”

“Twelve, sir.”

He huffed. “You sure he’s telling the truth?”

“Absolutely, sir. He was inconsolable that he didn’t make the connection sooner.”

He stared at the picture some more. “And you’re sure he drew this on his own?”

“I watched him” he replied courtly.

He shook his head. “Once this is over and done with, lad could have a future as a cartographer… did he say anything else?”

“I don’t think he saw anything, sir.”

“Thank God for that” Crisp said, therefore unknowingly gaining a few points with Fred again. “And you’re looking after him for now?”

“My wife and I talked it through and decided it would be the best option for now.”

“It would be, I think. As long as that murderer is still out there… he won’t know where he is, at least.”

He nodded.

“That’s all then, Thursday.”

For now, at least.

If only he’d had something to do, something that would have at the very least given him the feeling that they might make progress…

He worried about the boy, of course he did, but staying with Win really was the best thing with him for now. He had seen these homes – too many children to pay attention to one, even one who has just lost their parent in such a horrible way… no, no, better let Win cuddle and the kiddies play with him and perhaps forget for a few moments.

Not that he would be able to for long, or that he would ever truly forget what it had been like to see his mother lying dead on the floor. Fred knew that very well – sometimes at night he still woke up, memories from the war swirling in his mind…

It was probably a good thing he was still so young – life would come and sweep away the worst of it – but what would stay with him would be bad enough.

They needed to find Terrence Wolvercote, and that very, very quickly.

Now, Fred had his contacts in the underbelly of the town – for every town, be it ever such a good place, had one of them – and so, he soon made his way to see Half-Blind Eddie.

Half-Blind Eddie bore his name for the simple reason that he had occasionally, at the beginning of his not very illustrious career, pretended to be blind in order to beg, and Fred, at first, being young and green behind the east, had believed him and been rather lenient, only to learn the truth when he’d found him holding the torch for a well-known burglar. Since then, he’d admittedly never allowed himself to be caught again, even if Fred was sure was still dabbling when it came to such things occasionally.

But he was fundamentally decent despite all of that, and so Fred knew he would be on his side once he knew enough of the truth.

Half-Blind Eddie was in his usual spot, ostensibly selling newspapers when he was really begging. “Sergeant Thursday! Haven’t heard anything about those break-ins, earnest…”

Right, there had been another case before this one. As if that mattered now. Let them clear out half of Oxford for all he cared. “Eddie, I need your help.”

He looked at him. “You know my usual –“

“It’s about a boy” he said. “He’s twelve, and he just lost his mother – she was murdered. When I found them, he was still sitting by her body, trying to help.”

His face fell. “That case in the papers?”

He nodded.

“Poor little boy. Does he have anyone else?”

And he remembered suddenly that once, when arrested by another PC, Half-Blind Eye had courtly informed them there was “no one to call.”

“He’s staying with us.”

He nodded. “Good. But I really don’t see how I can help…”

“There’s someone we need to find. His name is Terrence Wolvercote, he was released from prison two days ago. The victim’s son found his papers, and now he thinks this is all his fault.”

He looked even sorrier – proving, although Fred probably shouldn’t be thinking that, that in some ways, a honest scoundrel would always be more human than someone like Superintendent Crisp. “I imagine he would. Boys that age… how can I help?”

“I am looking for someone – the way it seems, there might be a connection to someone who was recently released from jail. Terrence Wolvercote.”

He paled – not a good reaction. Eddie was used to all kinds of things, so for him to react like that…

“I had no idea that Wolvercote had made a runner.” He took a deep breath. “Truth be told, we were rather glad when they put him away – he’s bad news… still… I didn’t think he’d kill a woman. Doesn’t seem to be his cup of tea, if you know what I mean.”

There were several possibilities, but it was certainly interesting that he didn’t think Wolvercote would do something like this.

“Unless – well – was he trying to get money?”

“Not as far as we know. Maybe the papers…”

“Wolvercote doesn’t care about such things. Never has. No, Sergeant – if I were you, I’d look somewhere else, for the murder, that is. Wouldn’t have anything against you putting Wolvercote away again though.”

He nodded. “If you hear something…”

“Oh trust me, Sergeant, not one of us who wouldn’t be happy to see him behind bars again.” He hesitated. “Say… I… “ and he pulled out the envelope Fred knew he kept his savings of the day. “For the boy.”

“That’s really not necessary… but do you have the paper? Enjoys crosswords, that one…”

His face lit up. “Oh, I’ve been branching out lately… here you go!” And he pulled a crosswords puzzle book out from under the stack of newspapers. “And you tell the little man if he ever needs more, he knows where to go.”

That was why he tended to look the other way when it came to Eddie. He nodded gratefully and left.

The one good thing he could say about this was that at least, no one on the streets would want to help Wolvercote, so they should find him if he decided to stay in Oxford, and this city, as he well knew, had its way of getting to someone, making it hard to leave.

And well – if his informant was right, then he would not come after Endeavour, which was something, too.

But for now, he would try and find their suspect, whether or not he was –

They needed to eliminate him from the inquiries, if nothing else.

As he rather suspected would become a habit of his, should Endeavour stay at their home for longer, he called in and Win assured him that all was well.

“You should see them… he’s showing them how to play records!”

Really, why Mr. and the second Mrs. Morse didn’t want him around as an older brother…

“Have you been making any progress?”

Yes, she would ask and more than that, she ought to know.

“I’m afraid not, pet. We do have a suspect – the owner of the papers Endeavour found – but we have no idea where he is. He would be bloody stupid if he tried to go after him though, and everyone agrees that he’s not that.

“That’s a relief. I was thinking about taking them to the library –“

Yes, they don’t really have many books for a lad his age, and he’d probably enjoy reading to the kiddies as much as they would.

But well – that was all for – he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted.

No, he had to see –

And of course he couldn’t allow himself to focus exclusively on Wolvercote. There were always other lose ends to deal with…

Only that Constance Morse seemed to have been a really nice lady, focused on raising her son, and that was all there was to it.

He sighed.

Personally, Fred didn’t think much of newspapers – well, when there wasn’t an article Win liked or now a crosswords puzzle for Endeavour – but they tended to make his work more difficult because the people kept clamouring for information, so those people ran around, asked witnesses questions they had no business asking, and lived off of other people’s misery, at least as far as Fred was concerned.

So he was admittedly not very polite when a young woman came into his office and introduced herself as Dorothea Frazil of the Oxford Times. She must be new – the veterans all knew that they better not even try and approach him.

“I’ve got nothing to tell you.”

“Word on the street is that you are looking for a fugitive.”

“Is that so.”

“Yes, and that a child is involved.”

“Is that so” he repeated, only rather enunciating his words more clearly so she would understand that he was not about to –

“Sergeant Thursday, let me be honest with you. I do firmly believe that the press can help in such cases as this. I am not hear to drag the child into the public eye – they have to deal with enough.”

He realized she wasn’t saying he and kept referring to as the child. Of course it could be that she was trying to appear sympathetic, but he did like to think that he could read people rather well by now, and he suspected that she had consciously decided not to find out details about Endeavour.

It did make him respect her, and she was not completely wrong about the press….

He could and should have asked Superintendent Crisp. But knowing him, he would waver around and then ask the higher-ups, and time was off the essence.

“You can assure me that the b- the child won’t appear in your –“

“I promise, Sergeant.”

He took a deep breath and made a decision.

The kiddies were setting the table – or it would have been more accurate to state that Endeavour was doing so while Joan and Sam were nipping at his heels. He did not seem the least bit annoyed, which rather surprised Fred, since he assumed most boys his age would have been.

“Yes” he was explaining to Sam “just like that”.

And their boy beamed and put another fork down as carefully as he could.

Fred didn’t think either of them had ever listened as promptly or as raptly to him or Win as they did Endeavour.

When he kissed his wife, she agreed.

“Oh yes – he can do no wrong in their eyes.”

Now, if it had been any other boy, he might have been worried, but with Endeavour…

Since they suddenly heard Joan excitedly squeal about how “She could reach the glasses” they quickly returned to the dining room only to see Endeavour already helping her and making sure nothing broke.

Constance Morse really had raised a very well-mannered boy.

Joan laughed at something he had said in that good-natured way of hers, and Sam grabbed his leg.

And this was the boy Mr. Morse didn’t want near a baby?

“Isn’t he wonderful with them?” Win marvelled.

He had to agree.

Endeavour raised his head and saw him, and immediately, a change came over him as he remembered why he was here. His shoulders slumped and he shrank into himself.

Fred really wished he wouldn’t look like that every time he saw him, but…

He stepped up to him and clasped his shoulder. “Looks nice.”

He smiled shyly, and Joan chirped, “Endeavour explained left and right to me, Dad!”

They’d been struggling with that for a while, so he wasn’t going to hold his breath –

And then she put the knife and fork at the right places and beamed at him.

He looked at Endeavour and didn’t have the heart to ruin this moment.

“Well done, you three.”

They beamed, and Fred told himself there was always time for everything else later.

Chapter Text

He returned to the kitchen and to Win. No matter the threshold rule, she had to know what they might be up against.

“Oh Fred – if this is true… we have to keep him safe.”

“Yes we do.”

“He can stay for as long as he wants to, of course. And really, it’s a good thing you brought him here; his father and stepmother with a new baby… that would not be the right thing at all, not when it’s still so fresh…

They were both rather pretending that they were making a noble sacrifice when in truth, they very much wanted Endeavour here with them, but really, when it meant the same thing….

By the time he helped her carry dinner to the dining room, the table was set to perfection, and Joan and Sam were being quietly entertained by Endeavour dramatically reciting a Shakespeare sonnet.

This was what they must mean with Oxford material, Fred thought, suppressing a smile.

“You’ll have them scholars by the end of dessert, dear” Win said, and, when he jumped up to help her, firmly added, “Sit down, you really have done enough.”

Fred very much agreed with her there.

Sam started babbling about how Endeavour had read to them, and he glanced at Joan – she normally had trouble holding still when they did – but she seemed as happy as her brother.

And Endeavour –

Now, Fred knew that children could be very resilient, or perhaps it would be more appropriate to say that they simply shrank away from things that hurt them. Either way, he seemed to have had as much fun as the kiddies when it came to setting the table, and he devoured his dinner.

It was nice, seeing him relaxed for once, even though it probably only had to do with him forgetting about his mother for a  few minutes…

Fred found he didn’t have the heart to tell him – to warn him, really – idiotic to do so, anyway. Children shouldn’t be worried about such things. They could keep him safe here, and that was all there was to it.

Win seemed to agree, for when she saw him ever so slightly shake his head, she smiled and asked Endeavour if he wanted some more.

He blushed and mumbled acquiescence, so she gave him some.

After dinner, instead of Joan begging whether they could turn on the TV (fine by him. He’d much rather not have another tantrum thrown) she instead asked if they could stay up “So Endeavour can finish the story.”

Story? What story now?

As a general rule, he didn’t have anything against the kiddies having fun, but there were all kinds of clever people piping up these days to let them know what was and wasn’t suitable for children, so…

He suppressed a smile when he presented the Knights of the Round Table to him – did he fancy himself one of them?

Then he wondered whether Endeavour thought that as a knight, he might have been able to save his mum, and the smile died unseen.

Win had no such qualms, simply telling them to have fun.

“He should not worry about anything else at the moment, really. Soon enough…”

Yes, soon enough. After all, what awaited him – once he was safe and they had the murderer, he would be shipped away to that man who had let himself be chased away without so much as a by your leave, and who would probably mainly use him as a babysitter for the new sister he didn’t know…

He couldn’t think like that – he had to do his work, and then they would see.

The trouble was, he might have to let Endeavour go indeed, and he could already tell it would hurt Joan and Sammy quite badly –

Let them read, he told himself, let them play and have fun. There will be lots of time for the other things later.

And so he left them to their book.

“I don’t think I’ve had so much free time in years” Win told him after they had once more retreated to the kitchen.

He tried to say something, but she waved his objections away. “Oh no – don’t think – you  know I love the kiddies. It’s just – there are some things you can’t really do with two little one nipping at your heels, and now whenever I need a moment to myself. Endeavour’s there to distract them. I tried to tell him he didn’t have to but he –“ her expression grew somewhat sad. “He said he liked having friends, that he didn’t get along with many other children.”

Fred could imagine that – not because Endeavour was annoying, or mean, or stupid, but the opposite – a very clever boy who was probably the favourite of most, if not all of his teachers, yes, he could just imagine that other children might not like that – and he wasn’t too fond of running or kicking a ball around, as Fred had been at that stage, but that didn’t have to mean anything – but children…

Joan squealed and Endeavour laughed and he smiled without meaning to.

Win did the same.

Bed time was something of a hassle, but not because of the usual chorus of “Not yet Daddy!”

Rather, Endeavour was in the middle of a story and they were asking for him to finish.

Fred knew he probably should have put his foot down, but all of them looked so disappointed that he didn’t find the heart to do so.

“If we keep this up, they’ll forget when it’s their bedtime” he told Win after Endeavour had decided they might as well read upstairs, so he supposed it was something.

“They’re reading though, Fred, everyone says that’s good for children” she said. “And you know Endeavour won’t allow this to go one for too long.”

That was true – that conscientious boy… and again, it reminded him of – “I would ask Crisp if we could get a man or two to watch the house, but he would probably tell me to put him in a home...”

“We can’t allow that. And really, we will be fine. I know what to look out for.”

There were moments where he forgot she had survived the Blitz while he had been off fighting the Germans.

They had not been sitting in the living room for long when Endeavour came shuffling down the stairs, book in hand. He stood in the entrance of the living room, hesitated –

“Yes, dear?” Win prompted and of course it made him talk immediately.

“I – could I read here for a bit? I’ll be quiet, I promise. It’s just that – that – that’s what I used to do with Mum.”

“But of course, dear” Win said immediately, getting up and brushing his locks off his forehead once more. “But no need to be quiet. Your mother didn’t expect that, did she?”

He shook his head then mumbled something that sounded too much like “Dad and Gwen” for Fred’s liking.

“I would like to know when you come to an interesting passage” Win said simply. “That’s what’s it’s all about, reading next to someone, isn’t it?”

His beaming smile told Fred that she had said exactly the right thing, and that that was probably what Mrs. Morse had done too; even so, he was rather surprised.

He’d known they had a few poetry books lying around since Win liked them – to be honest, all those things tended to be a bit flowery for his liking; but when she asked what he had been reading, he quoted from memory.

“In the afternoon they came unto a land
In which it seemed always afternoon.
All round the coast the languid air did swoon,
Breathing like one that hath a weary dream...”

Certainly that was a bit high-brow for a boy this age, even one so precocious? But Fred knew from their two that he better ought to be careful with such comments, so he simply listened and nodded at him at the end. “Mythology, isn’t it?”

He had at most expected something like Yes, but instead, Endeavour launched into an explanation of the Odyssey that would have made some of the dons he had met during the course of his work proud.

If he just kept this up, they might have their own professor on their hands.

“Very nice” Win beamed when he was done.

He smiled back in that shy way of his – and the evening might have continued like that, but a few minutes later, Endeavour, who at this point was reading quietly by himself, drew a startled breath and the book fell out of his hands.

“What is it, lad?” he asked, but in the next moment, he had launched himself into Win’s arms, sobbing once more.

Having an idea – those old poets were all rather dramatic, were they not? – Fred picked up the book and very quickly realized.  

Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
Thy tribute wave deliver:
No more by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.

Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea,
A rivulet then a river:
Nowhere by thee my steps shall be
For ever and for ever.

But here will sigh thine alder tree
And here thine aspen shiver;
And here by thee will hum the bee,
For ever and for ever.

A thousand suns will stream on thee,
A thousand moons will quiver;
But not by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.

Something like this would be upsetting to anyone who had just…

He slowly closed the book and looked at Win, nodding.

She rubbed his back. “I’m sure – yes, just let it out, that’s right…”

He said something, or attempted to, but Fred wasn’t quite sure –

“It’s natural, of course you’re still sad… it will… no, I won’t tell you it will get better, but it will hurt less eventually.”

That was his Win – even now she wouldn’t lie.

Eventually, his sobs subsided.

Win looked at him and he knew ghee had to go and put the kettle on once again.

When he returned with the tea, Endeavour was talking quietly, urgently to Win.

She nodded, holding his hand. “Of course it’s difficult… I remember when my parents passed away shortly after the war, God bless them… I thought they’d be around for longer for Joanie and Sammy. And Fred’s parents were already gone when we met…”

“There you go” he said, putting the tea in front of them.

“Thanks, love.”

“Thank you” Endeavour said quietly, once more omitting the sir.

They drank their tea in silence then he began quietly, “I was wondering…”

“Yes?” he prompted when there was nothing forthcoming.

He put his cup down and stared at it, probably so he wouldn’t have to look at either of them. “I – when do I go back to school? I don’t want to fall behind.”

No, he wouldn’t but…

“Not right now, dear” Win said quickly. “First of all, Fred had to finish the case” of course she would say it like that “And then… let’s call it compassionate leave. Everyone is entitled to that.”

They bloody weren’t, and they both knew it, but this was Endeavour they were talking to, so he nodded and almost looked relieved – but then it would have been a lot…

“So you just stay here with us for a bit. And” she brightened up “I know Joan and Sam will want to hear more stories.”

He seemed rather happy at that idea.

Yes, Fred thought, Win had been right, he would make such a wonderful big brother, if they just let him near the baby…

But for now, he could stay here and have fun with Joan and Sam. They could deal with all of that when he had actually caught the killer.

Chapter Text

It was Joan who came to them that night - after they had thought the children had all gone to sleep already (and if that all was - well - nobody would have to know).

He and Win were having a drink in the living room, trying to talk of something, anything else, when their girl came in in her usual bold manner and announced “Mummy, Daddy, I’ve thought it through.”

Since she sounded about as important as Churchill had during the peace talks, he put out his pipe, glanced at Win and, notwithstanding that it was long past her bedtime, asked, “What is it, then?”

Still acting like she was about to make a plea to their MPs to pass a solution, she declared “I have drawn up a diptiuntion” or something similar, but he hadn't been a father for years for nothing. 

“A disposition?” he asked, and she nodded, handing him a piece of paper. 

A drawing, of course - writing would have to wait until she was at school - but easy enough to understand.

On the left side of the page was a figure that, due to the orange curls on its head, was easily enough to identify; Endeavour was flanked by two larger, foreboding figures; all of them stood separate; the two other people had black eyes and looked menacing; Endeavour wore a frown, tears were drooping from his cheeks, and just in case they would not understand, there was a cloud above them and it was raining. And just for good measure, the drawing was crossed out in big black crayon.

Joan had always been the more direct of the two.

On the other hand, the drawing on the right side. There, the sun was shining, and Endeavour, in the middle again, was holding the hands of two smaller figures at each side of him - no need to ask who those were, either; Joan was wearing her favourite dress, Sammy was holding his teddy bear (and was of course very small in comparison to his older sister); and behind them…

Fred managed not to smile, but only barely. Again two figures - the bigger one wore a hat and seemed very happy about the big pipe in its right hand, while the second one had a teapot with it. They were holding hands too, which he was rather pleased about. 

There was a crude heart drawn around this - family, he thought, this was a family.

“Endeavour” Joan explained gravely like she was Einstein coming up with something for which he’d get his next Nobel Prize “won't be happy at his Dad's ‘cause his dad was mean to his mum and his stepmum doesn't like him.” Endeavour was not the sort to speak ill of anyone like that so she must have come to those conclusions on her own… or maybe she wanted them to be true, she was after all still a child. “Plus his sister is still a baby so he can't play with or read to her.” Very grave objections indeed. “So” she brightened up. “Endeavour should stay because he can teach us all kinds of stuff so we won’t even have to go to school” he wanted to object, but Win’s hand on his arm kept him silent “And he can be happy and we’ll love him lots and Mum can feed him up. And he’s very clever, so he can help with your cases, Daddy!”

From a child’s point of view, those arguments must be very convincing, and he couldn't say that he didn't agree with some of them. Apart from the not going to school bit. Well, and the solving cases with Fred in-between homework. Although he probably would make a good detective if he ever decided to join, and of course they would be pr –

“Joanie, dear, it’s not so easy” Win tried to explain. “We can’t just take him in. There are laws –“

“Ugh, why do grown-ups make everything so complicated? He wants to stay!”

“Did he tell you that?” he asked because he would rather know –

“No, but I can tell! You can tell too, Daddy, if you just think about it!”

He wondered what his colleagues would say if he told them his soon-to-be six-year-old didn’t imagine he thought at work, on a regular basis, it seemed.

“So we have to make sure he can stay, so you have to talk to his dad, but he doesn’t want him anyway” she ended her presentation as if that made everything completely clear, and he supposed that for her, it was. Then, because she had made her point, she started to yawn.

Win used the moment to swoop in and usher her back to bed.

Fred was left alone.

He lit his pipe, then picked up the drawing.

Joan had really put a lot of effort in it; it was easy to see who was who, and Endeavour especially had been drawn as close to life as she could possibly do, meaning not that close at all, but still…

Somehow, he felt that the family in the second picture was more complete, and not just because they were actually smiling. Ridiculous, of course – he just had a soft spot for his children, that was all.

Win returned. “Oh Fred, she’s completely convinced. Even told me as I put her to bed that it’s a very good idea to have a big brother because he can stay with them when I go shopping so they don’t get bored.”

“Glad to hear she’s thought of everything” he drawled.

Win gently took it out of his hands. “She is not wrong in some respects… he doesn’t talk about his father at all, really. He mentions his mother now and then… I think – I didn’t want to ask because he is already going through enough, but I think he knew something was wrong with her.”

“She ought to have known, considering what the doctor said, and he’s a clever boy – I doubt she would have been able to keep it from him even if she – so probably.”

She sighed. “So young, and already…”

It was too much, he agreed, it was simply too much, and unfair too. And yet here he was, still such a kind-hearted lad… He could only imagine what would become of him if he got returned to… he glanced at the drawing again. From the mouth of babes, even if Joan would not have liked to hear that.

And just for a moment, he wished that it could indeed be as easy as their girl had decided it should be.

The next morning, Fred came downstairs and found the children once more setting the table because of course they would.

He glanced into the living room but didn’t see Joan’s picture anywhere. Maybe Win put it away – she tended to keep all their little art works to show them once they were grown up enough to feel embarrassed (at least that was how Fred saw it, she considered them precious and adorable because of course she did).

“Good morning Daddy!”

“Good morning” Endeavour joined their chorus quietly, looking for all the world like just any boy who was having fun with their little ones.

He seemed to have slept well, if his bright eyes and easy smile were anything to go by; so Fred simply squeezed his shoulder before hugging Joan and Sam and kissing Win.

“Now, Endeavour dear, sit down, you’ve really done enough” she told him kindly and he did. Joan and Sam did so at the same time, naturally.

Fred remembered having hear complaints from his colleagues – about how when you had one who was quite a bit older, the smaller ones would just do whatever they did and how it usually led to problems – but this was Endeavour, and he had the feeling they could have left them alone for the week and returned to a spotless house, biased as it may sound.

“I don’t know when I’ll come home, pet” he told Win as she accompanied him to the door, having ensured that Endeavour stayed with Joan and Sam so they could talk. “We really have to find Wolvercote– he might blow this case wide open.”

“Of course” she kissed him. “Just stay safe. And – oh – do remember, just in case Endeavour’s father calls, it’s really no trouble, him staying with us for a while longer.”

Looking at her and remembering her brushing a lock off of his forehead yet again just a short while ago at breakfast, he rather wondered if she didn’t mean for the next few years, until he came of age, just to be sure…

But he really had no right to say anything in that regard, so he didn’t.

As he drove to the station, he thought about the last few days. Now, naturally, he knew that in theory, Endeavour being there had simply changed their lives a bit because having a guest in the house made everyone behave in a different manner – that was just human – and yet at the same time it as so easy to forget that he hadn’t always been one of them, that he actually didn’t belong with them – as a matter of fact, just thinking like that felt wrong, as if he was hurting their – the boy by doing so.

It was only normal that he in turn should cling to them, too. He had just lost his parent, he was scared, more scared than he showed, of course, and so anyone who was kind to him would have been an object of affection; but they had given him more than that – there was Win, and two playmates to boot.

Yes, he would be a wonderful big brother once he was shipped off to his father and the stepmother and the baby…

This was not helping – he had to find the murderer, and then they would see. After all, there was no law that prohibited him from keeping up with Endeavour – they could call, visit; if his father and stepmother were just what Fred thought they were, they would probably like it if they invited him for a few weeks in the summer…

The prospect raised his mood considerably, even if that was done away with once he arrived at work and learned that there was little to nothing that might lead them to the murderer, or that could even bring anything new to the table.

What was really getting to him, he decided as he sat back down at his desk, was the lack of motive. Good, Endeavour had found the papers – that was a drawback to anyone who wanted to make a quick, quiet exit, but still… there had to be more of a reason for killing a woman than that. Even though he had been with the police for years now, even though he had served in the war, he simply didn’t want to live in a world where there wasn’t, and especially not one where such things happened to a woman like Constance Morse, who had just wanted to stay with her boy for as long as she could.

It had been a long time since he had struggled this much with such things…

He sighed and lit his pipe yet again. But even if they found Wolvercote and all was dealt with – wouldn’t Endeavour always carry this with him?

The morning passed slowly; he went out to have his sandwich in the park, not feeling like talking to anyone, and then returned to the office.

And then, just as he had assumed that this day would be as frustrating as the last – even though he had to admit that he quite liked the prospect of having to keep Endeavour safe, that was to say, with them, for a little while longer, something happened.

“Excuse me, Sergeant?” the PC who had just knocked on his door asked. “We found Wolvercote.”

Chapter Text

It was about the best news he could have received, and he almost said a prayer of thanks as he told the man he would be right there. He then called Crisp, who was, as usual, busy buttering up the higher-ups; Fred swore to himself that if he should ever reach the lofty heights of Detective Inspector, he would treat his bagman, whoever he happened to be, quite different.

But that was a subject for another day.

For now, they had to talk to Wolvercote and figure out if he had had anything to do with Constance Morse’s murder – even if Fred felt rather morose at the thought that someone would kill a young mother just because their boy happened to be observant enough to pick up papers that belonged to a felon – if that were the case, he was determined not to let Endeavour know, all principles be damned. He was too young to go to court anyway, apart from the witness statement they would need, and then Win could whisk him back home –

Once more – only much later would he realize that he had given up all consideration of Endeavour going back to his father and stepmother.

But right at that moment –

“Where is he?”

“Being brought to the station as we speak. The PC who caught him called it in. Said he came willingly.”

That could mean that he had given up, or that he was too arrogant to believe that anything would actually happen to him. Either way, Fred would get the truth out of him.

“Let me know the second he arrives” he said, wondering whether he should call Win, but no – all of that – there was plenty of time later. Endeavour still had some part of his childhood left to cling to, he didn’t want to watch it die today.

And then all that was left to do was wait and go over the file again, as if he didn’t know it by heart, but he most definitely wouldn’t risk missing out on catching their suspect in a lie.

He stared at the two spots on the carpet where Endeavour had smeared his mother’s blood as he had kneeled down to attempt to help her and swore he would put this man away for life.

But then, first things first – much as he wanted to simply lock him away, he had to follow the rules, or he might risk that he’d walk, and that, he absolutely wouldn’t do.

And so, he had another pipe to calm himself down, and when the time came, he met him without betraying any emotion whatsoever.

His first impression was not a good one – normally, he would have said that was normal, but in this case…

To be perfectly frank, he looked like the kind of man who would get out of prison and then decide to bash a poor woman’s head in while her boy was watching.

Now, he knew that he shouldn’t allow his feelings to run away with him, but this was about…

First things first.

Wolvercote knew why he was here – he had to.

So he simply said, “I would like to speak to you about the attack on Mrs. Constance Morse three days ago.”

Even though it felt almost ridiculous that it had only been three days, so far.

“I did nothing.”

That was – well – it was not the reaction of an innocent man, he had enough experience to know that. Innocent men demanded why they were here, or were too confused to say anything.

“At this point, we are just making inquiries pertaining the death of Mrs. Constance Morse.”

He squirmed a bit in his seat, but that could be – if Fred wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, which he would rather not, but for Endeavour’s sake he would – because he didn’t like to hear about other people dying, like many other men.

Fred had learned early on that one couldn’t allow them to get used to the idea, or imagine something even worse (as far as that was possible) since they would then be able to lie, so he simply put the pictures on the table.

He paled and turned his head away.

“Constance Morse” he said flatly. “When we found her” no reason to drag any witnesses into this “her twelve-year-old son was at her side, trying to resuscitate her.”

He turned to him with wide eyes. “Her son?”

Right, he’d grown up in an orphanage, Fred recalled from his file – probably one of the reasons he had so easily slipped into this kind of life, not when it was any excuse after one had grown up… look at Endeavour; he’d just been dealt the worst blow of his young life so far, and yet he was playing with the kiddies and reading to them and asking about school –

“Yes. And he informed us that he found something shortly before his mother was murdered.” He paused for a moment. “Papers, to be precise.”

The man grew even paler, if that was at all possible.

“Can you imagine what those papers said?”

He would give him that – he was apparently quick enough to realize that it would be useless to deny anything his name was written on so he said, “I’ve been looking for those. No idea where I lost them, though – not in a house – wasn’t there.”

The last part was spoken with much less conviction than the first part, which might have been a sign of guilt, but Fred thought he was just confused – it was, after all, something to hear that one’s papers had been found near a body.

Plus, he had unconsciously given away that the papers hadn’t been found in the house, which seemed to prove that he at least hadn't had said papers with him when he went to…

But of course he couldn't have, not when the working theory was that his motive had been said papers.

But then where were they -

Fred almost cursed when he realized no one had taken a closer look at Mrs. Morse’s papers to ensure that the papers were in fact gone. And he dared call himself Detective Sergeant - at this rate he would never make it to Inspector, and he would deserve it.

The house hadn't been searched, either, and you didn't kill someone for something and then not get it. What would be the point of that? Unless - he had never killed before, they knew that, so perhaps the reality of it had just been too much…

He reminded himself that there was a good reason why they suspected him, and that they had not come up with any other motive why someone should wish to hurt Constance Morse.

So they had to stick with this and see where it might lead…

Only that he could already hear Crisp congratulating himself on another case being solved in record time. As if he had done any of the work…

 Wolvercote looked at him and bit his lip. “I just… Well… I was wondering… you said there was a boy.”

Fred, even though he shouldn't have, perked up. Now they might be getting somewhere. He wasn't the brightest - was he fishing for information so he could go after the only witness in case they had to let him go, and right now, it didn't look too bad for him since they had basically no evidence…

 Yes, they would have to look after Endeavour, but they were already doing that, and he was a very clever boy - he would understand that he had to be careful and stay home for a bit…

So he nodded, in the hope that he would divulge something, anything, that might finally crack the case open once and for all…

“What about his dad?”

That… wasn't quite what he had expected. “Remarried” he said flatly. “And doesn't seem like he will have much time for him, since he has a new baby too…”

He squirmed in his seat, but Fred didn't care one bit if he was feeling uncomfortable. You made a poor boy an orphan, you had to live with it, that was just fair. Even though he had learned very early on, and the war had just repeated the lesson, that sometimes, life just wasn't fair. The worst part was that for most people, this was good News, Just Look at the man in Front of him…

“I… but he does have a dad?”

“What he’s going to have” Fred said, his own bitterness sleeping into his voice even though he wished it were not the case “is two people who will use him as a free babysitter and won’t give one farthing about his grief.” He would never have said as much to Win, but it was what he believed, knew would happen. He could do his best to keep an eye on him but… how could he? Mr. Morse seemed like the kind of man who wouldn't like the police being a regular visitor, and Endeavour, as Win had said, was such a dear boy that he probably wouldn't stay in contact if his father didn't wish him to…

He might have to use the kiddies. Joan was learning her letters, she would enjoy writing to her new friend…

The case, he had to solve the case.

Wolvercote looked shocked. “That's terrible.”

“It would have helped if someone hadn't killed his mother” Fred bit back.

“I didn't! That's what I’m trying to tell you! I wouldn't! I’ve done some bad things in my life, but never something like this, you have to believe ne!”

 And just like that, he had made everything even more complicated.

Because in this moment, Fred had one of the strange epiphanies that one had after a while in the force, and this time, it was as strange as it was unwelcome.

Wolvercote was telling the truth.

He hadn’t killed Constance Morse.

Chapter Text

When Fred finally succeeded in talking to his governor, things went as well as could be expected.

“Well done, Thursday - and so fast, too - Constance Morse’s neighbours can sleep peacefully tonight.”

“Sir, I - “

“Go home to your wife and kiddies. We can take it from here. Tomorrow’s Sunday, too - so you good to have a free day.”

If this had been his case, or rather, of he had been allowed to make any important decisions, he would not have allowed this to just be the end of it, and he swore to himself that it would not be. Even if this had not been about Endeavour, he could not have allowed an innocent man to go to prison. Although admittedly his worry for someone like Wolvercote paled in comparison to Endeavour never getting the answers he not only deserved, but needed to move on. Even an adult would have struggled If No one were to be punished for something like this, and a boy of twelve…

It was probably a good idea to go home and think of something else for a few hours, or at least try to.

He was not going to mention the arrest. If this would not stick, he didn't want to give him any false hope.

And anyway…

As he opened the door, all three of the children ran up to him, and this time, there was no worry, no fear in his eyes - in the manner of children, even very clever ones, he had had so much fun that his mind had blocked out what he had had to live through.

It strengthened his resolve. He was not going to say anything tonight -

With one exception.

Win knew him too well, as was to be expected. And so, she drew him into the kitchen. “Fred, what’s going on?”

He shook his head. “I wish I knew."

“So there is no news?”

“There is news, but I don't think it will lead to anything good.” And he told her-

 Win, by now well acquainted with his instincts, shook her head. “And you are sure?”

“Doesn’t look like a murderer to ne” he affirmed. “Even before… and then… He was genuinely concerned for the lad. It might just be blue-eyed optimism, but I don't see him doing anything to a mother, especially when her child is in the house… and no one goes in without at least watching the place for a moment or two -”

“But then de would have known Constance and Endeavour were in the house, so why risk it?”

She had unconsciously given the defence all the arguments they would need - and it was especially galling because Fred agreed. “I don't know, and that's what troubles me. Normally I can understand them - I don't agree or like what's going on, but I can - but in this case - like I said, he just has to keep out of sight until they leave the house and then get his papers, problem solved. But he doesn't and kills a woman and then run away even though he might as well have subdued the witness” he wanted to live in a world where harming the boy had never crossed the murderer’s mind, if only for a moment “doesn't ring true for me. I want this to be over with as much as the next man - more, I dare say - but…”

“You'll figure it out, Fred, you always do. Sunday at home will do you good, just what the doctor ordered.”

It was sort of funny that his wife and his governor should agree in one way when they were usually fundamentally opposed, especially when it came to Fred and what he was capable of. According to her, he should have been well on his way to Inspector by now, even if he wasn't quite sure such lofty heights were for him, personally.

Yet he couldn't deny that he was looking forward to the day at home - granted, he wouldn't be able to forget about the case with Endeavour at his sight at all times, as he was determined he would be, but it would have been difficult for that to happen, anyway.

And so, they had dinner, Joan and Sam being on their best behaviour once more, and as he watched Endeavour laugh with them, he wondered if he would ever find the heart to tell him the truth.

But then, he didn’t have to, not right now. First of all, he would have a good Sunday, and then he would go on and clear everything up, and make sure Constance Morse’s murderer ended up behind bars where they belonged.

And so, they had a quiet Saturday evening in, with the kiddies being allowed to stay up late, as always, of course, and Endeavour once more being their primary focus, but since he still had no complaint whatsoever, Fred didn’t think he had to suffer unduly.

It was when Sammy triumphantly exclaimed “The!” And Endeavour said “That’s right!” that he realized he had actually started teaching them, too.

Really, as if he had not done enough for them…

Win hadn’t told him that she intended this Sunday to be a very happy one, but she didn’t have to – when he woke up and walked down the stairs to the children’s laughter, he knew it to be so.

She was busy in the kitchen, baking, with Joan and Sam skipping around Endeavour, who was earnestly trying to help, but really – Fred sent them into the garden, putting his foot down when he tried to object.

“Look at them” Win said happily, and indeed, it was difficult not to do so as they played chase, Endeavour slowing down on purpose so the others could have a chance. “And you are sure it can’t be that man? If he knew who killed his mother, he would be –“

“Sorry, pet, I can feel it. Something’s not adding up. Why would he kill her and then leave without getting the papers?”

She looked away and he was reminded that things like these were the reason the hatstand rule existed in the first place but then she turned back to him. “Is there any reason – any reason at all why someone would want to kill Constance? You said her ex-husband didn’t care for her –“

“There’s a reason between not caring for someone and wanting them dead” he said, “Much as I would like to have a reason to give him a scare or three. He hasn’t even called into the station since that day – didn’t ask where Endeavour was, nothing.” Despite the fact that he preferred that, eh couldn’t help but think that that was nothing short of callous (when he kept Win’s habit of not saying dirty words in front of the kiddies, that was, he actually could imagine quite a few other descriptions when he was free to do so).

“Do you think we could go to the park in the afternoon? I know, I know, but young boys shouldn’t be cooped up like this…”

“I think that would be fine, pet.” He would be there too, and Fred Thursday rather prided himself on his instincts – just let anyone who wished the boy harm try and approach them, he would show them soon enough.

When the children heard they were going to the park, their younger two were very pleased, but Endeavour looked a bit –

“What is it, son?” he asked quietly.

“Nothing” he said, “Really –“ but then Joan nudged him and his shoulders sank. “I – I don’t make friends easily” he said and it sounded like a confession, even though it just reflected poorly on the other kids, if you asked Fred. “And I wouldn’t want – that is – if I give the wrong impression and you –“ he broke off but Joan had understood enough and declared, “They will like you! Everyone likes you! And if they don’t, I’ll show them!”

Sam, of course, agreed, because he agreed with everything his older sister said, unless, these days, it was in contradiction to one of Endeavour’s opinions.

And so, Win made sandwiches for them all and they went to the park.

Joan dragged the two boys off to play immediately, Win happily laughing, and Fred thought that, for all the blood and the pain and the ugliness, there were good moments in life, too, especially when he saw that Endeavour was having as much fun as the others.

Soon, they were approached by a group of older children – by which he meant they were Endeavour’s age – mostly boys – he counted the heads – ah, they’d need another one or two to play football.

He saw Endeavour tense up and Joan stepped up at his side, taking his hand, and wondered if he really had that many bad experiences, but knowing how cruel children could be, he didn’t doubt it –

Endeavour said something, then added something else when one of the boys immediately perked up; said boy turned around and waved and then they were joined by what Fred assumed were his younger siblings, which led to a similar avalanche from another five or six smaller kiddies, and only the biggest boy seemed annoyed.

And then they were all playing, and Fred wondered if this could really count as a football game – maybe not, but then as long as they were having fun…

Before long, he and Win were approached by a woman. “Those are your three, aren’t they – the bigger one with the russet curls and his two siblings?”

Win enthusiastically agreed, but of course it was safer to do so.

“I have to say, it’s nice to see them all getting along” she said. “Normally the older ones don’t really want the kiddies playing with them…”

“That’s Freddie all over” Win said happily. “He always insists on having his siblings join the fun.”

Fred blinked, until now not having realized they even had a cover story, nor how normal it would sound for Win to explain it all.

He glanced over at the children again, where Endeavour had just blocked another boy with a grin so Sam could have a shot that, naturally, didn’t make it very much farther than two feet; they still both applauded and Sammy beamed.

Dear God, it really seemed as if…

“Such a good big brother” she said, shaking her head. “Me and my sisters don’t get along at all…. you’re lucky.”

“Very much so” he forced out because if only for a moment, they were.

Sometime later, they three came trapsing over for their sandwiches, Joan as usual talking a mile a minute and Sammy glowing because he had been allowed to play with the big boys. “Endeavour  made them have me, Daddy! Endeavour can do everything!”

He blushed as Win handed him a sandwich.

“Don’t know about everything” Fred replied, “But certainly quite a bit”.

The afternoon passed quickly and rather blissfully, with Endeavour all smiles, and he thought that the more he did that, the better, seeing what would probably follow –

But then he forced it all out of his mind. This was supposed to be a holiday of sorts for him, too, after all.

That night, after the kiddies had gone to bed, the three of them had a cup of tea and then Endeavour went upstairs too.

He hesitated for a moment after standing up, though.

“What is it, dear?” Wion asked promptly.

“Thank you” he said quietly, his eyes shining with affection that he doubted he’d felt for his dad since he was a younger chap.

He reached out and ruffled his hair out of impulse. “Don’t mention it. Now, you really feel like you owe us, you just continue to entertain Joanie and Sammy, right?”

He nodded enthusiastically as Win hugged him.

Later, Fred would fail to forgive himself for his words. To be completely honest, he wouldn’t event try.

Chapter Text

His good mood didn't last long the next day, but that wasn't to be expected, not with the murderer still at large.

He contemplated calling Cyril Morse just because it would have been the right thing to do, then decided against it lest he get any ideas that it would be proper to take in his own flesh and blood… which it was of course but that was no reason that they should drag the boy away from where he was happy.

And really… when it came to the costs, those were nothing. Win had mentioned yesterday that the shopping was not all that much more expensive “you know Fred one just has to know how to do it and he eats so little… too little if you want to know the truth…”

That last part he had ignored. That was just Win… but in general, the point stood.

Endeavour was doing as well as could be expected under the circumstances, better really (which might only last until he had understood completely what he had lost, but still).

No, let him stay where he was – he personally didn’t enjoy that game of politics much, but it was an advantage that Endeavour was with then - removing a child was always more difficult than leaving them where they were, and he liked to think that if anyone asked Endeavour what he wanted -

Unless Cyril Morse decided to make trouble, yet even that ought not to be a big problem… Fred remembered what He Had looked Like. Threadbare clothes, betting paper sticking out of his pocket… Money was scarce, and it wasn't hard to guess why, and Fred Thursday was not too decent to use that to his advantage when it could help.

They would have to pay, he thought, but maybe not too much… If he really wanted his son with him he would have made far more trouble.

No, If he cared, nothing would have kept him from the boy, Fred knew that – what father would just leave him mongers strangers after he had lost his mother? Cyril Morse, that was, a man eager to pretend that his first marriage had never happened.

He was more than a little miffed by it all, but again, if it ended the way they all wished it would…

But that was for later. Now, he had to first and foremost make sure that the case was closed, every I dotted, every T crossed, so that they would have a leg to stand on when it came to discussing Endeavour’s future.

Again, all of that was for then, and this was now, and so he went through their lack of evidence yet again.

He still didn’t think Wolvercote had done it. There just wasn’t any point to it, killing a woman and then never even trying to get the thing he had been looking for. Endeavour – a boy was easily subdued. He could have just locked him in the nearest room, he wasn’t going to put up much of a resistance after seeing his mother lying in her own blood…

No, no, something still wasn’t adding up, and he couldn’t just bring himself to overlook it, not with what was at stake.

Fine. So, the necklace. Nothing out of the ordinary there, nor –

Wait. Fred frowned. She’d been wearing a high-collared dress, one that didn’t seem suitable for that kind of necklace, now, did it –

It was a curious thing, and certainly something to be considered…

And they had nothing else to go on, so they might as well…

“God knows why, but the entire day, I couldn’t get the necklace out of my mind. It seems a strange thing, but… you know we went through the house, and there was no jewellery at all.”

“Some people have only one… you could ask Endeavour” Win said, although her expression made very clear what she thought of that.

He agreed – it would do him no good, and really, what would come out of it? He would just be reminded of his mother once more, and since he was a clever lad, he would easily come to the conclusion that it had to do with her death, and then he would be upset and probably feel guilty because he couldn’t say anything about it –

“Wasn’t much to look at anyway” he decided, probably more out of his instinct to protect the boy than wishing to know the truth, but there had to be boundaries, “Just a string of pearls with a cross on it –“

“A rosary?”

Right, a rosary – Fred himself hadn’t had much to do with the church since what he had seen in the war, but that was the kind of thing that some people still believed –

“I think you’re right, pet. Not jewellery after all, but why she should have it with her at the moment –“

He frowned. Only that there was no indication whatsoever that Constance Morse had believed in that kind of thing – a Quaker, that was what Endeavour had said, his mother had been a Quaker. They didn’t pray rosaries, did they –

There was a slight noise in the hallway, and since he had been a father long enough now, he immediately called out. Endeavour emerged, wearing his pyjamas and looking –

There was a strange expression on his face that Fred couldn’t quite read. “I – I wanted to say good night…”

“Of course dear” Win said immediately, smiling at him. “Come here –“

As they hugged, the boy seemed a little preoccupied, but who wouldn’t be under the circumstances?

The next morning, Fred was up early and since he couldn’t go back to sleep, he decided he might as well go to work. He would have liked to spend time with the kiddies, but he would hardly be good company. Once this was done…

He left Win a note. Even if he would later think that if he had paid more attention, if he had been there –

But that wouldn’t help then, anyway.

He was walking down the street – the usual neighbourhood disturbance, and he’d been sent even though he had much better things to do – when he spied another newspaper stand.

The vendor of course called out to him, but then, he knew him well.

He handed him his usual fee.

“Terrible story, governor” he said as he gave him a paper. “And a young boy too… Sad.”

He nodded, not giving anything away.

“Any idea when you’ll make an arrest?”

“We are still working the case.”

“They say the ex-husband could have a motive…”

“Could have” he agreed because he was not going to give anything away, and he shook his head, disappointed, not knowing how much Fred wished he actually had an answer for him.

At least there were some developments.

The doctor came to see him, looking troubled.

“Sergeant, I have to say – there’s something – I am afraid I overlooked it so far because the head injuries were so severe. She might have died anyway, if she had not received medical attention soon, but…”

He could hardly blame the man. When the cause of death was as seemingly obvious, there was no reason to make the mystery even deeper by searching for something that wasn’t there…

“But I had this nagging feeling, and I couldn’t just… so I looked at her again and –“

Fred had always liked to men for continuing to refer to the victims as people, even after he had cut them open.

“She was not killed by blunt force trauma, although, again, it would have killed her if no one had looked after her… but no – it was – well, she was strangled. And I am reasonably sure that the murder weapon was the rosary we found underneath the body.”

He blinked. “But if it was used to strangle her, why would it be underneath the body?”

“I had a seminar last year and – it seems this happens much more often than one would think. They call it a form of undoing.”

Undoing – undoing strangling someone? That was why Fred had never been able to really look those academics properly in the eye. They just didn’t think like a copper who had been on the beat for years and seen it all. Undoing, as if that changed anything – as if it made Endeavour one bit less of an orphan than he had been the second his mother –

“It also tends to indicate that the murderer and the victim knew each other.”

“Are you sure?”

“I can’t be, of course, not with this kind of – it’s all still rather new, some form of American theory, but they have produced good results with that kind of thing. And it’s more than we would have otherwise.”

He supposed so – he couldn’t imagine that Constance Morse would have known many people who were ready to strangle her –

Strangling, after all – that spoke of passion, even if she had been (hopefully) unconscious at the time and hadn’t felt it. And for some reason, they had used a rosary… maybe that kind of thing was undoing too. Hadn’t been the killer, had been an act of God, that sort of thing.

He shook his head. “I wish – you know, if she had been healthy and awake, she could well have fought the murderer off – it’s not easy to strangle someone with something like this. But given her condition…”

“She did succeed in keeping them – herself and Wolvercote, I mean – in the hallway” Fred said quietly. “away from her son.”

“Yes, of course…” he sighed. “What a waste.”

Fred could only agree with him there.

Once he was gone, he decided he should make some more inquiries pertaining to the murder weapon…

The professor was one of the types he usually dealt with – thought he was better than anyone else because he worked at a posh college and got to form “the minds of tomorrow” or something like that – Fred had met many such people since he had moved to Oxford, and he had never thought well of them. Now, if one of their kiddies wanted to study eventually, that would be a different thing, but they certainly wouldn’t turn out like this… And Endeavour could easily be the one to start that tradition, seeing how smart he was…

The one thing he would say for Bryan Pinnock was that he immediately let his act of “bored professor who just wants to get on with it” drop when he realized what this was about.

“I read about it in the paper… it said her son found her.”

“That he did. He’s been struggling with it ever since” he said flatly, and only regretted it slightly when he realized he was actually genuinely sorry for Endeavour.

“Please, sit down Sergeant, let me see what I can do… yes I see…” he studied it carefully. “Now, the beads are used but this is in excellent shape… family heirloom, I would say.” He looked at Fred then added, “Since it would be useless to pretend I have no idea… is one of your suspects a catholic by any chance?”

“I thought all kinds of confessions used a rosary” he said.

“That may be, but it’s much more prevalent in Catholicism, and like I said, this one is well loved and well used.”

A catholic devout enough to keep something like that…

He thanked the man and went back to his files.

As unlucky as his day had been – after these two seeming breakthroughs there had been nothing, just as he had hoped he could finally find success – he was more than glad to be home. Dinner with his family always helped…

The first clue that something was wrong was that the house was too quiet. Even with their two, that was an almost unheard-of occasion, and now with three children in the house…

They didn't come running when he opened the door, either; it was only Win who hurried towards him. “Fred! Endeavour is gone!”

Chapter Text

If there was one thing he hadn’t expected, it had been this. “Gone?” he blurted out. “What do you mean, gone?”

“I don’t know; he went inside while I was in the garden with the kiddies, and I thought he wanted to get a drink or just needed a moment for himself, you know they can be a bit loud…” she wrung her hands. “This is all my fault –“

“It’s not pet” he said, looking around, but there was no sign of forced entry, so it couldn’t be – no, this was not a kidnapping, Endeavour must have left of his own volition, but why he would do so – “Did he say anything?”

She shook her head. “Noti that I remember –“

And his Win would, that was absolutely certain.

There was nothing for it but – “Let’s ask the kiddies.”

And so, they went to find Joan and Sam, who were colouring.

Now, he took a deep breath – he didn’t want to scare them, oar to think they were doing a wrong thing by telling him, they would clam up and he would never find out – and so he asked, “Do you know where Endeavour went?”

Joan immediately answered, as she often did. “He said he was gonna get a book that Sammy wanted to read. The other one about the knights and the round table…”

For no reason at all, Fred’s blood ran cold. So the boy had wanted to go home – it wasn’t as if the murderer was still going to be waiting for him –

He still darted out of the house in as short a time as it took for him to tell Win where he was going.

He didn’t call anyone else. He could always do that when things –

Not that he assumed the would –

There was absolutely no reason to think that –

He all but threw himself into the car he was glad he’d signed out now. Let the higher-ups complain that he took too much time with them once more, he couldn’t care one bit. This was about Endeavour.

Ashe drove off, he couldn’t help but think that he should have guessed – such a nice boy, so eager to please, quite the opposite, if he was being honest, to what Fred had been like at that age – of course he wanted to make his new friends happy, and what better way to do that than to indulge in their favourite hobby?

Part of him hoped that he would just find Endeavour going through his mother’s things, perhaps having a little cry, but deep down, he knew him to be too conscientious for that. It just didn’t seem at all likely that he would forget the time – and who wanted to stay for longer in such a house than they had to, anyway? It just didn’t seem at all likely, especially for a child, and he couldn’t forget that Endeavour still was a child, for all intents and purposes…

But all of this wouldn't help him so the only thing he could do was to try and find him as quickly as possible.

He didn't think, looking back on this crazy drive later, much, much later, that it had been anything but plain luck that he hadn’t had an accident. Or perhaps someone was looking out for him after all, for the very first time in a long time. 

The point was, he made it there unscathed, which was a miracle in itself – but well – and then he parked the car as haphazardly as he could, but again…

He really didn’t care. Let them read him the riot act, let them fire him if they wanted - he was here for Endeavour and he could always find a different Job. If only the boy was fine, if only he could take him home to Win… there would be a stern talking to, naturally, he couldn't just wander off like that when his mother’s murderer had not yet been caught, but other than that… He imagined Endeavour telling him that it was very unlikely that the murderer would return to the scene of the crime because it was something he would do and smiled briefly.

That changed when he arrived and found the door forced open.

Endeavour was not the kind of person to do that, and since he had decided to come here, it was much more likely that he still had a key – to his shame, Fred had never asked him – or thought to ask because it had been obvious from the first that he had had nothing to do with all of this -

Whoever this had been had most definitely not had a key. That much was clear.

He opened the door quietly and stepped in, resisting the urge to call out even though everything in him was screaming to simply rush in and find the lad.

The hallway at least was clean except for the traces of Mrs. Morse’s blood, and he imagined only the promise he had made Sam could have led Endeavour to move forward because that was the kind of boy he was. 

No, he would have gone to his room – the books on his nightstand…

Yes, If he had gone anywhere, it would have been there…

Although - Fred had been a police man for years now, and so, rather than check Endeavour’s room first, he went to what had been Mrs. Morse’s bedroom.

No Endeavour but he had been right anyway. The cupboards were open, but the clothes undisturbed - no, no one had searched this place, the boy had just wanted to feel close to His mother. He reminded himself to take him here again when this was over; they would have to make sure nothing Endeavour could want later would be thrown away…

Now where could he be? His room, most likely. Maybe - Fred had met more shaken-up kiddies than he would like to admit, and he knew how it was, sometimes - he had fallen asleep in his room because he was finally in a familiar place again.

But there was no Endeavour there, either, just a small bundle of books carefully tied up. Fred quickly looked them through, more of habit ingrained into him after years of policework than anything else, and was touched to see he had included a few he must have read when he was younger for Sammy.

But that didn’t answer his question where he was, so he moved on.

Once more, he was struck by how comfortable the house had been, despite Constance Morse’s limited means, and how so many things had clearly been bought with Endeavour in mind – down to a small key hook at exactly the right height for him. She had clearly known what a clever boy she had, and perhaps she’d wanted to leave him something more than just memories…

Now, where could he have gone? Children had all kinds of hiding places, he had known that even before he had had any himself. After all, growing up, back when it had still been normal to just send the kiddies out on the street to play – of course there had been a lot less cars since then – he and his mates had run around all afternoon long (never one for academics, Fred Thursday had been, but then, not everyone had to be) so he was well aware what boys could get up to when no one was looking after –

Not Endeavour, of course. He wasn’t the type to get into trouble, not even in a moment like this.

So, he had arrived, unlocked the door, probably first gone into his mother’s room – there were things that could not wait – and then his own to pack the books. And then…

He checked the cupboard because Endeavour was the kind of boy who would remember getting new clothes as well, and yes – there was a mess in there that told him he must have been disturbed, but somehow…

It seemed a bit strange. Why would he close the door again if he heard someone break in? Endeavour was quick on his feet, he would have reacted differently – then again, Fred suddenly thought, if he had been in any of the rooms upstairs, he might not even have heard… so then what? He had heard someone run up the stairs and closed the cupboard door? That didn’t seem like the kind of thing one would prioritize at a moment like this, but then, well, again, he was not a precocious twelve-year-old who probably felt he owed it to his mum to leave things in order…

And yet this kind of thing… it tended to gnaw on Fred, and so it did this time as well.

So he might have heard something. Maybe he had not been aware what exactly it was, but still – he had closed the cupboard and gone to investigate, because of course he had.

Fred shook his head. They really should have seen this coming, should have offered to bring him here. But no – he had told him to entertain the kiddies, and he had decided he wanted Sam to have the book he’d promised him. And really, why shouldn’t he go to his own home, or what used to be his home? He had every right to be here –

But still, so what could possibly have happened –

Now, he reasoned with himself, what if this person – if this person was from around here – most murders were committed by someone who knew the victim, after all – then it would have been very easy to call Endeavour to their side, especially if he had had no reason to suspect them, and why would he…

His blood ran cold, but he told himself not to –

If something had happened to Endeavour, then there would be more traces of it. He might have been a bit small for his age, but that didn’t have to mean anything, he would still bleed like any other –

Fred grit his teeth. This was exactly the kind of thing they had warned them about when they had just been starting out – don’t get too close, don’t make it personal, but how could he not have? Endeavour had fit into their lives, and now that this place was threatened…

He shook his head in order to clear it yet again. Fine. So – Endeavour had been here. Someone had broken in. He had probably then left the room to –

To do what? He was too clever to risk confronting an adult, no matter whether he suspected him of killing his mother. The phone was downstairs though, so no chance of getting there without the person or persons seeing him…

He would have tried to hide, it was the most logical thing to do, so…

And being Endeavour, he’d probably come to the logical conclusion that he ought to find a place most people wouldn’t think he would go, so not under the bed or something…

Fred left the room and found another door at the end of the hallway.

That seemed like a possibility –

Despite his hopes, there was no sign of Endeavour when he opened the door. He supposed it would have been too –

And then Fred saw the scratched on the windowsill. His first unforeseen when he had entered the house had been that aside from the body, it was very well-maintained, and he believed so even now, and the scratches looked new…

He studied them then realized this was supposed to be an arrow, clearly put there under the stress of the moment. There was even a little blood, he must have done this with his nails inn a panic…

And then Fred realized where it was pointing towards, or rather, outwards.

Right at the opposite side of the small garden path.

Mrs. Halliday’s house. 

But yes – he knew their neighbour, he trusted her –

He must have fled there.

Chapter Text

So he had fled to Mrs. Halliday’s – good, if he had made it – Fred quickly checked out the windowsill – the dust was disturbed, meaning he had probably climbed out, but when he looked down, there was nothing to indicate a fall, so –

He hurried downstairs and over to the house, knocking on the door.

She opened looking a bit harried. “Sergeant Thursday? How can I help –“

“Is Endeavour here?” he asked before she could finish.

She stared at him. “No, why should he be? Isn’t he with you?”

He felt fear’s grip on his heart, cold and strong. “I – he did come here to pack a few things…” his voice broke so he decided to better fall silent for a moment. Rarely had he ever been like this during a case – and it told him all he needed to know for the future, should there be one, that was –

“He’s always been such a orderly boy…” she said softly. “Of course Constance” and it was her voice that broke this time “raised him very well, so I should not be surprised…”

No, they should not, but that didn’t – “I have reason to believe that – someone was after him –“

Her hands flew up to her mouth and something niggled at the back of Fred’s head.

“And you think he came here? I would have called you, of course – the police, I mean – that poor boy –“

Again, there was something –

“So you haven’t seen him?” he asked just to make sure even though it was ridiculous, but – there had to be a reason Endeavour had left the hint, there had to be –

“No, no, I’m sorry –“

“Can I use your phone?” he asked abruptly. He could apologize later, but this was not the time for pleasantries. “I need to call reinforcements…”

“But of course, Sergeant, please do come in –“

And he strolled past her and towards the phone in the hallway.

“If you will excuse me, I was just taking care of something upstairs…”

He nodded distractedly and she walked up.

He was just dialling, his mind going a mile a minute, when his eyes fell on the small statue next to the phone. Now, there was nothing to be said against it, just because he’d always left the decorating to Win, different people had different –

He frowned when he realized this was something he had seen before –

Just as he was finally being put through, he reached out and took the statue.

A young woman, wearing a flowing robe and a veil.

In other words, the Virgin Mary.

That was not – well – most people he knew didn’t have that kind of thing in their place unless they had faith –

And were probably Catholic, meaning they might also pray –

Which would explain –

He was put through and quickly said he needed reinforcements, that the boy was in danger. If he wasn’t, if Fred was wrong, and he desperately hoped he was, he could always say it was better to be safe than sorry, even though the superintendent would hardly let that count…

He hung up and looked around, listening for any suspicious noises, but there was nothing. He might be wrong, he knew that, but the statue and Endeavour having left a sign that pointed towards this house and that – well – there had been this rumour he had heard, that Cyril Morse was stepping out again, and what had the neighbour said?

You’d think someone like her, being God-fearing and all, would know better than with a married man…

God-fearing. Married Man. It all fit.

He hurried up the stairs as quietly as he could.

There were muffled sounds coming out of a room, and for a moment, he feared the worst – what if his presence had made her decide that it would be best to do away with Endeavour once and for all –

There was no time to waste.

He kicked the door in. “Freeze!” It was not the most accurate of wordings, as Endeavour would have pointed out, but it usually did the trick.

He took in the picture in front of him.

Endeavour, bound and gagged, staring at him with wide eyes, and Mrs. Halliday standing above him with a knife in her hands…

“Drop the knife” he said calmly, his eyes never leaving Endeavour’s. He had to let him know that he wouldn’t leave him alone, not again…

“I never meant for this to happen!” she said. “I – I – he just – I was looking for my rosary – it’s too valuable for me –“

Naturally, she used it to pray. But no praying in the world had stopped her from killing a woman, or from having an affair with said woman’s husband, for that matter.

“I didn’t know he was in the house” she wailed. “He came downstairs and I told him – well I said I was looking for something – I didn’t think he would realize –“

No, it probably couldn’t be expected, and more than that, who would have thought that he had even noticed the rosary, with his mother being… but he had spent God knows how long with the boy, eh still wasn’t quite clear on that, and he must have noticed the rosary, or maybe he hadn’t even been aware that he had, but when she mentioned it –

“He knew then. I knew – I could see it in his eyes and I – I had to keep him silent, you see” there were tears shimmering in his eyes. “I never wanted to hurt him, or Constance, but Cyril and me… she guessed. She saw him once, coming to my place after dark and – she went to knock on my door later and she said she would tell his wife! When I told her he had already left her, she said it wasn’t about that, that she was actually glad he was gone, but that she couldn’t stand it that he should cheat on yet another woman, that anyone deserved better than that –“

“But that wasn’t when you strangled her” he said because Constance had been found in her house, not Halliday.

“No…” she swallowed. “I – I spent a day and a night praying for guidance, so that God would let me know what to do. And then – I just wanted to talk to her! The next day, I came over and – there was this – this brute of a man storming away, his face white” no question who that had been “and I found here there, lying in her blood, and for a moment I thought that she was gone, and I –“

She did not finish that sentence, either, and he knew she didn’t want to admit that at that moment, she had been happy that she was.

“But then she groaned and –“ her hands tightened both around the knife and Endeavour’s neck. “I – she didn’t have much longer to live anyway” something she had probably been telling herself over and over and over in the past week “she told me – told me about two weeks ago… so it was a mercy, when you think about it – perhaps God wanted me to take her pain away – “

If this was her version of faith, Fred would gladly become an atheist from this moment on.

“So you think that was your call`?” he asked. “Taking way her chance to prepare everything before she passed? Telling her son she loved him one last time? Making sure he would be left comfortable?”

After all, everyone had agreed that Constance Morse had loved Endeavour above all else.

She glanced at the boy, who looked back; there were tears shimmering in his eyes, but whether for fear or his mother or a combination of both, Fred could not say.

“Don’t you think this has gone far enough? What exactly – he’s just a boy. Let him go.”

“I guessed” Endeavour piped up because of course he would. “I – when she said there was a rosary she was looking for – Mum didn’t – we didn’t – and there were those marks on her neck –“

“Oh, be silent!” she cried, rather upset at being reminded what she had used her rosary for, but Fred couldn’t have cared less.

He was about to take a risk, but she had not moved the knife, even though Endeavour had clearly hit a nerve, and there was no desire to hurt anyone else in her eyes –

“There were those marks on her neck” he said firmly. “You wrapped the rosary around her neck and you took her life as if it was nothing.”

Endeavour now began to cry for real, but who could blame him?

She looked at the boy again, then at Fred.

With a decisive move, she threw him into his arms and ran past him.

And then Endeavour was quivering in his arms, and as he freed him of his bounds, Fred swore to himself that nothing and no one would ever be allowed to hurt him like that.

Then Endeavour pulled back and looked at him, quietly saying, “You have to arrest Mrs. Halliday.”

“I’ve called in reinforcements; they can chase her.”

But he shook his head- “She – she killed Mum. She needs to be arrested.”

Yes, yes, of course he would think like that.

He nodded and stepped away. “You go outside and wait for the police, you hear?”

“Yes”.

He would have liked to promise him that everything was over and done with now but knew he couldn’t, so he simply nodded at him again and was off.

He had no idea where she was going – there was nothing around here but fields and the river and marshes –

The river, he suddenly realized.

And it had been raining quite a bit – of course it had – so it would be –

He ran.

She was standing on the edge, of course. Where else would she have gone.

“Don’t, Mrs. Halliday” he said. “After all, your faith…”

“My faith?” she cried out. “Where was that faith when I lay with a married man and killed a woman?”

“But this” he insisted “This would be the worst sins of them all –“

“I don’t believe that” she said firmly and quietly. “And you don’t, either.”

He was silent because it was true.

“When the time is right, tell him –“ he thought she meant Cyril Morse but then she continued “Tell Endeavour I am sorry. And I never meant for this to happen.”

And then she jumped.

Trying to save her would have been useless, seeing how high the water had risen – even if it made him a bad person, he didn’t want to risk his life for a murderer – and he hastened back to find Endeavour.

He was leaning against the fence, staring at his old home as if it could explain to him why some people did such things.

When he looked at him, Ferd shook his head.

He could explain later, or maybe not. There were other things to do or say, even if he wasn’t quite sure what kind yet…

“I – I thought she was – Mum’s friend” he said. “I never thought she would – she – she knew all about how he treated her. She saw him screaming at her, when he came to see me. And yet…”

He didn’t understand because there was nothing to understand, as Fred very well knew. Some people would just do things like that…

“I thought she would – when she grabbed me – at first I thought she wanted to hug me, and then I saw the knife –“

The tears were back rolling down his cheeks.

Fred drew him into his arms. “Some people – they’re born bad, or they go bad later, and there’s nothing anyone but them could do about it, but they don’t want to” he said. “And that’s all there is to it.”

He nodded against his breast.

Fred held him for a few minutes more, then he heard a car drive up the street and let go. “We’ll deal with this” he said, and it was a vow, “We’ll deal with this, and then we’ll go home.”

Chapter Text

Cleaning up after a case was always both somewhat liberating and almost depressing, because it felt like there was an empty space where said case had been.

Usually.

Right now, there was only one priority, and that was Endeavour, as far as Fred was concerned.

The boy had been very quiet at the station – no surprise there – and had shown no interest in the paper with the crosswords puzzle or the cup of tea Fred had offered him.

But then, of course he was in shock. Who wouldn’t have been?

Fred was naturally worried sick. If he just buried everything –

But then Win came in, Endeavour raised his head and in the next moment threw himself at her, bursting into tears.

She rubbed his back, looking at Fred; he nodded – just get him out of here, and as fast as possible; they could deal with the rest later.

For Fred had made a decision, in that house – looking at Endeavour, fearing any moment a shot would ring out – yes he had made a decision, and he would stick to it.

After all, even now Cyril Morse had not come, his wife explaining on the phone that he couldn’t leave work.

Fine, if he didn’t want to see his child when said child needed him, then he could live without being there in the good times, too.

And so, he ruffled Endeavour’s hair, told him everything would be fine – a lie, nothing would be fine for quite a while, but they would look after him, and things would get better, but that would have been a bit too much to tell him right that moment – and watched him and Win leave.

Once he’d finished the files, he brought them to the superintendent.

“Ah. Thursday. Good work. A murderer caught, and we even got the fugitive…”

He nodded. He had almost forgotten Abouzt that – really, he could escape again for all he cared. He’d hit Constance Morse, but he had not made her child an orphan, as small a comfort as that was.

“You might as well go home.”

For a moment, Fred was tempted to ask him what would become of Endeavour now, but he knew he would have advised him to contact the authorities, or worse, his father, and that would not do at all – no, they would have to forge their own path.

When he arrived home, only Joan and Sam came to greet him, and he told himself that Win would have let him know if something had happened –

“Endeavour tried to read to us, Daddy” Joan said without even saying hello. “But he fell asleep in his bed, so we let him. Mummy said we should.”

The best thing for him, really – it must be his body had just shut down after everything he had gone through.

“I put my teddy bear with him!” Sam cried. “So he won’t be alone when he wakes up.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that, and knew that Endeavour would appreciate it too.

He went to see Win in the kitchen – the kiddies had gone to the living room to play, Joan explaining in her best grown-up voice that they would be quiet “because Endeavour deserves rest.”

How she had come to that conclusion but never when it came to Fred and Sundays, he couldn’t be sure.

“Hello, pet” he said, kissing her. “Joan said –“

“Oh yes, he’s sleeping soundly, I checked. We’ll wake him up for dinner so he won’t stay awake the entire night. If you ask me, he needed it – just an hour or two where he doesn’t have to think about what happened. Our poor boy…”

He decided to grab the bull by the horns. “About that… Win, what would you think if we offered Mr. Morse to take him in for a while?”

She surprised him by saying, “Absolutely not.”

“But…” he really, truly had believed they were of the same opinion. After all, the kiddies loved Endevaour, and he had though that –

“Nothing about that “for a while” nonsense. Children need stability, especially if they have been through something like this. Endeavour should stay with us for good” she said matter-of-dactyl as if that was all he needed to know, and he guessed it was.

“I agree, but his father will have to –“

“His father should know what is good for him, especially since he was the one who started it all in the first place!”

“He wasn’t the one who ki –“ when he saw Win’s expression, he fell silent. “He wasn’t the one responsible, not when it comes to the courts” he tried.

“That may be, but who left his child’s mother for someone else and then stepped out again? And now Endeavour knows everything – you know he won’t be happy in his house.”

He couldn’t disagree with that.

Win soon sent him up to wake Endeavour, and he found him with his head buried in the pillow.

He sat up the moment he touched his shoulder, blinking at him, fear creeping in his eyes – then he saw Sam’s bear and remembered where he was. “Mr. –“

“There you go, you just had a nap. Dinner’s about to be done.”

He nodded. “I’ll wash up…” he hesitated.

He drew him into a quick hug. “No need to rush, alright?”

He nodded and Fred left.

As he looked around himself at the dinner table a short while later, he felt that Endeavour fit their family in a way that no one could describe or understand and that this was how it had always been meant to be.

Win was absolutely right – they had to make sure it could stay that way.

After all, what could he expect from such a father – would Cyril Morse make sure he had his library card and got the push he needed at school, now that he had a new baby with a new wife? And stepmothers… it wasn’t that there weren’t any good ones, but Fred had met too many of the other, wicked fairytale sport over the course of his work, so that he really didn’t want him to go live there, especially when he still remembered his mother so very well… at dinner just now, he had asked Win shyly if he might put a picture of him and his mother on his nightstand, and she had quickly made sure it had a proper frame.

What would the new Mrs. Morse say to such remembrance? It was better not to speculate. He would like to think that he would find a loving home if he had to leave theirs, but…

There was no harm in trying.

It was Cyril Morse who opened the door to him when he eventually went to see him – no sign of the second Mrs. Morse, but then, he had probably had to explain to her what had happened, meaning – well – most women Fred knew would have taken off too, then.

“Sergeant” he said, his eyes bloodshot, and he took some satisfaction in knowing that at least he hadn’t gotten enough sleep since all of this had happened.

“Mr. Morse. Can I come in?”

“I suppose you need a statement– yes, certainly.”

He waited, but he simply stepped aside; it wasn’t until they were sitting in the kitchen, him not having offered Fred anything despite it being a hot day (not that he would have accepted) that he said, “I assume this is about Endeavour.”

“It is, sir.” He didn’t really want to call him that, but as Win had pointed out, effusive politeness could bring results… and he could always drop it when it didn’t.

He hesitated then asked, “How is he doing?”

“As well as can be expected.”

A pause.

But, despite Fred expecting him to, he didn’t ask when Endeavour would come home.

So he said, “We’ve all grown rather fond of him. It’s not trouble, really.”

And Cyril Morse – relaxed upon hearing that his own son was doing well away from him.

His blood boiled, but for the first time in a very long time, he managed to keep his temper.

“I – I’ve talked to Gwen” he said, sounding troubled, which Fred really tried and failed not to enjoy. “It’s just that – with the baby… we wouldn’t want to put him through – he has had quite a shock, really –“

Meaning the second Mrs. Morse didn’t want his firstborn around her new child, he thought angrily. As if that – look at Endeavour and Joan and Sam. Already thick as thieves, these three, didn’t matter that he was a bit older than they were…

But, calm now, careful. “Of course, it’s a bit much, going from one child to two” he agreed. “That’s how it was with ours, at any rate.”

He looked – relieved, proving he understood what he wanted to say. “Oh yes, and really, we probably shouldn’t – there’s been a lot of – upheaval, so to speak, in Endeavour’s life lately –“

“Aye” he agreed because that was something he most definitely had nothing to say against.

“So, we wouldn’t want to take him from a place where he is comfortable…” And then, against the odds, he did rise a little bit in Fred’s opinion again when he said, “He is – comfortable, isn’t he? If there’s money trouble, we could send something –“

“He is” he affirmed. “Comfortable, that is. My wife’s teaching him how to cook, and the kiddies are both learning to read very fast just by listening to him do it every night.”

“He always loved books” he mumbled “Never could understand him –“

“He’s very proud of the library card we got him.” That he was now busy getting all kinds of books about police work… that was something that he would keep to himself. If Endeavour wanted to go down that path, he would and that was that. “He’s also doing well at school”. Win had been the one to first suggest that they should send him to their neighbourhood one – “Where no one else knows him, that might be for the best” – and so far, he had indeed been doing very well.

“I didn’t even…” Cyril muttered, then shook his head. “I – good. That’s good. He deserves it.”

“We would be very glad to have him stay with us…” he trailed off so he could fill in the blanks himself.

They stared at one another, and he watched the struggle behind his eyes.

It was short, brutal, and, as such struggles went, over much too soon. “So you would like him to stay with you?”

“Very much so.”

Another pause.

“As to what is necessary to make that happen –“

But Cyril’s shoulders sank, and he shook his head. “Just send me the paperwork. I’ll sign. I won’t make any trouble.” He looked away. “I hurt him enough.”

Fred left soon afterwards.

When he told Win, she looked angry for a second, but the smiled. “I can’t say I think much of Mr. Morse” it was about the most unforgiving sentence he had ever heard coming from her “But on the other hand… we should let Endeavour know, that he can stay, that is…”

And so, they called him into the kitchen, telling the other two they had to wait for a second. Joan complained of course, but their – Endeavour placated her with the promise of another story.

“Endeavour, dear” Win said quietly once he had sat down. “Fred talked to your father today.”

He paled and swallowed then asked, “Yes?”

He was actually scared to leave and go live there, he realized, and quickly said, “We agree that you could stay with us for the foreseeable future… would you like that?”

He stared at them for a moment then asked slowly, “I can stay?”He

“If you want, dear –“ Win said, but he had already launched himself at her, and once he was in her arms, he burst into tears.

“There, there, dearest…”

She patted his back as Fred did the same with his shoulder.

When he pulled back, there was a huge smile on his face despite the tear marks marring his cheeks.

Chapter Text

A year later

He was so used to all three of the kiddies running up to him when he came home that he immediately grew concerned when that wasn’t the case.

After a moment or two, it was true, Joan and Sam emerged, but there was nothing to see of –

“Dad” Joan declared very seriously as befit her status of someone who went to school like their oldest now. “Devy got a letter from Mr. Morse, and now he doesn’t want to talk to anyone. You have to do something.”

He frowned. Not because of what she had said – their daughter had begun referring to Dev’s relatives, when she had to at all, as Mr. and Mrs. Morse very shortly after they had explained that he was going to stay with them – but because he always was rather subdued when he thought of his biological father, and really, now when they had all been so happy, leading up to his birthday in two days’ time…

“He’s in the garden, Daddy” Sam said, holding unto his leg, and he looked down and nodded.

Win came to kiss him and he quickly let her know that he already understood what was expected of him.

Endeavour was sitting in the garden, next the rose bush he had helped Win plant just a few weeks ago. Joan and Sam claimed they had helped too, of course, and he upheld their conviction, but Fred knew them too well to imagine they had done much more than jump around and make Dev laugh – which was nice in itself, and it certainly fit him much better than the sad expression he was wearing at the moment, but the point stood.

“Son?”

He raised his head. “Hello, Dad. I didn’t know you were home yet –“

“On time for once.”

He nodded, then looked away.

Even though he didn’t get down as easily as he had done when he himself had been a young whippersnapper, Fred sat next to him. “Mum said Mr. Morse called.”

He made a non-committal noise – it was a fact that, much as Joan and Sam had improved in their manners since he had come to live with them, Dev had also picked up a few of their habits, but they had never had the heart to reprimand him for it.

“What did he say?” he decided to be blunt. Dev was too honest to lie, so there should be –

“He – well he – “ and Endeavour began tearing out grass blades with his right hand, a sure sign that he was very upset indeed. Normally he would never do something like this. “He apologized to me – said that he was sorry, that he knew I had been through a lot but that – if we could try again – he was certain we could do better…”

He trailed off. Fred was not worried – not that that was the right word – he knew he was happy here, and that he could not wait for Sammy to grow a bit older so they could all read Ivanhoe together.

He knew what he would have liked to say, but he was equally sure that Win would have told him to wait, so he did.

Then, “I said – I said it was a little late for that, and that I’m happy here.”

It was about the most unforgiving speech he had ever heard from Endeavour since he had met him, but he couldn’t deny that he had good reasons for it.

If it had been him Cyril Morse had reached, he might have had quite a similar reaction, only with stronger expressions involved…

“He begged me to at least speak to Joyce – I said I’d write her a letter, I don’t think it would be a good idea to talk to her that moment –“

“Aye” he agreed. “You do that. She and Joan will get along like a house on fire.”

He smiled a somewhat amused smile, which was more than Fred had hoped for. “They’ll try and gang up on me and Sam –“

“You’ll be evenly matched.”

“I guess.”

Another moment or two of silence. Then, “Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Is it – does it make me a bad man” boy, he thought, still a boy for now, but this was not the moment “That I don’t care? He’s my father, I should feel something, but it was like I was talking to a neighbour – no, actually, it was less than that, because I care about Mrs. Moncrieff and Mr. and Mrs. Everett…”

As anyone would who loved babysitting the latter’s kiddies with his siblings and had talked opera with the former more often than they could count, but he wouldn’t allow that as a proper reason, not in such a moment.

“Most days I forget.”

He frowned.

“That I’m not really a Thursday. I – you took me in because my mum died, soi –“

“Oy, not like that”. He reached out and clasped his shoulder. “You are a Thursday, through and through. Who made sure the kiddies ate when our Win had a cold? And who helps them with their homework and educates them when it comes to classical music and all this stuff I don’t understand?”

Something like a smile crossed his lips.

“And don’t forget that you’ve been learning to cook too, when Joan’s already decided she won’t.”

“Wait till she’s on her own and hungry.”

“That’s exactly what Win said, see?”

And it wasn’t the only opinion, or statement, he had taken from her – no – Fred had already realized that he was much more patient than he had ever been, and that he could be as gentle with his younger siblings as their mother; now, he and Fred might not have as much in common, but that had not been a problem since he had first set foot on their threshold, and it wouldn’t be in the future, he was determined.

“I know this isn’t easy” Fred said because it wasn’t. There were all kinds of folks in the world, and some turned their back on their own flesh and blood for no reason at all but that they had found someone else they liked better, and then, sometimes, as in this case, years later they realized what they had thrown away and tried to make amends, not realizing that there was so little, so very little that anyone could do or say in that regard that might make the other forget…

“That’s just it” Endeavour replied, and it sounded like a confession. “It is easy. It is much too easy.”

He didn’t quite –

“It shouldn’t be. I should be happy that he called, or sad that he didn’t until now, or upset that he just let me go after Mum’s death, but there is nothing. I couldn’t care less. If I heard he’d died tomorrow, I doubt I would go to his funeral” Fred didn’t because this was Endeavour they were talking about and no matter what, their boy would do the right thing.

“It’s not always like that” he said. “My dad… well… let’s just say, he wasn’t too pleased when me and Mum got married so early.”

Dev turned his head to stare at him, and he shrugged. “It’s true. But I felt – well – “

“You didn’t want to leave her without anything in case you fell in the war.”

Really, he was much too clever for his own good, but they had known that when they had taken him in, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

He nodded.

Dev looked at him and then said, “I am very glad you didn’t get killed.”

It was the kind of thing children said sometimes, but Fred heard the unspoken condemnation of Endeavour himself – again, that he couldn’t have cared less if something had happened to his flesh and blood – and he drew him into his side in a half-hug. “Imagine that, me too.”

He actually giggled a little, like Joan was wont to do, and Fred decided this was as good a response as he was going to get.

“But being related doesn’t have to mean a thing. If I learned one thing in the war, speaking of it, it’s that” he said. “I mean, you’ve met my old sergeant, and a few others – we are all bound in a way no one else can be, like you and Joan and Sam.”

He looked at him, or tried to and failed because he was sitting too close, but nodded, thank God.

“I might call him later” he said. “In a few weeks or so. I – I would like to know if –“ he broke off.

Fred couldn’t agree with this – he obviously wanted to know if there had been a reason, if he had done something wrong, and the answer to that was an empathic No, of course not, but good luck with that. And even if Cyril Morse should find the right words for once – what comfort could it bring to be told that he had simply wanted to forget all about his life with Constance, and that Dev had been in the way?

No, no, much better to let sleeping dogs lie.

“He can never be my father” Endeavour then declared and he waited for him to continue since – “Not like you’ve been.”

Oh. He had to blink away a few tears at that. He couldn’t deny that he had worried about it, occasionally – that after all Dev had a father, and that Fred might not be the one he needed –

“Would you mind if I became a Thursday? Officially, I mean?”

That was – something more a non-sequitur than he would have thought, and he blinked again, then realized what he had been speaking of and dragged him into a proper hug. “No, no, of course not. I’d be very happy. And Win and the kiddies tool, I dare so.”

Joan would be more than glad that she now had an official big brother, and Sam scarcely better, he was ready to bet.

“Now, what do you say we go inside and have dinner? Or, well, if Mum insists on you taking it easy again, you can always play with the kiddies…”

“Don’t let Joan hear that” he said with a smile. “Just the other day she insisted that she was too old to play now.”

“What did you do this weekend, then?”

“That was acting, if I understand correctly. Not playing.”

“Ah.” Now, of course said acting had been totally indistinguishable from playing, but if it made her happy, Endeavour would be only too glad to play along, as he very well knew….

“Anyway, you could supervise them setting the table again” he said, careful to put stress on the word supervise. Joan had noticed early on that Dev tended to do all of it himself because he was very grateful he got to stay – now, to be fair, one, he had eventually realized they wouldn’t send him back, no matter what he did, and two, Joan had started to feel bad and did help voluntarily now, most days at least.

“Fine, fine” he agreed and stood up, smiling at him.

Where had the years gone – when had he shot up like that, anyway?

He even held out his hand to help Fred up, even if he was rather sure he would have toppled him over if he had properly used it as a crutch, but it was the thought that counted.

He sent him in because he wanted to smoke a pipe in peace before young voice started telling him all bout their day, and he skipped away, in a much better mood then when Fred arrived.

He lit his pipe and reflected on what the last few years had brought.

In the end, it had been nothing but a coincidence, but a coincidence that had changed the course of their lives as a family, even if Sergeant Fred Thursday had not known it when he had first set eyes on a terrified boy.

He would honestly say that he wouldn’t change a single moment since then.