Thursday took Morse's case in one hand and Morse's upper arm in the other, guiding him out to the car. Settling down in the back seat Morse yawned, suddenly exhausted. He was already run down from the prison, and all the emotions from the past hour were too much for him. Jakes and Thursday noticed with pity that his eyes keep slowly fluttering shut, then snapping open a few seconds later as he tried to keep himself awake. There were dark circles around his eyes and his face was pale and drawn, his chiselled cheekbones more prominent than was healthy. As Jakes had pointed out earlier, he really did look awful.

After dropping Jakes off, it was a short drive to Thursday's house. Again, Thursday took his arm and helped him along the path to the front door. It flew open from the other side and before Morse could even comprehend who was behind it, he was pulled into a tight embrace.

"Morse love, thank goodness you're here," Win murmured in his ear.

Morse couldn't think of anything to say so just stood and let himself be hugged. He could feel the unspoken emotion flowing out, into the caring arms that he hadn't experienced since the death of his mother all those years ago.

"Don't smother him mum," Joan called from the kitchen.

Win released him, taking his arm and guiding him into the hall. She helped him out his coat and hung it on a peg then took his shoulders and guided him towards the living room. The smells wafting from the kitchen were sublime and Morse felt so grateful for the hospitality. It would have been a can of beans at his flat.

"Hey stranger. You look dead on your feet but I'll have the colour back on your cheeks in no time. My cooking, I mean," Joan emerged from the kitchen, winking mischievously at Morse.

As if to answer this, Morse's empty stomach suddenly growled and he flushed bright red.

"That's more like it. Don't worry, it's almost ready," Joan teased, leaning forward to kiss his cheek.

As Morse went into the living room Sam stood up, shaking his hand and clapping his shoulder. He could hear Win and Fred conversing in hushed tones in the hall - probably discussing his lack of weight and general dishevelled appearance. As Joan had promised, supper was ready in no time – a thick tomato soup, hearty stew and dumplings and a steaming sponge and custard. Morse wolfed it down, with Win insisting he take generous second helpings of everything and plonking a huge milk stout down in front of him.

There was a euphoric, celebratory atmosphere during the meal, the shock from Fred's reappearance now jubilance. Morse began to realise the joy wasn't just from having Fred back alive, but from having him with them too – they all seemed very affected by his false imprisonment. Win insisted on standing up and toasting them both – Fred for 'keeping life surprising' and Morse for 'always being there to keep an eye on him."

After the meal was over, the waistband on Morse's trousers felt significantly tighter and he could feel the fatigue washing over him again. He sat with his chin leaning on his hand, enjoying listening to the sounds of Sam and Joan teasing each other with Fred and Win laughing along and joining in. As the conversation began to lull, he could feel his eyelids starting to droop and he stifled a yawn, trying to hide it behind his hand.

"Bed!" Fred said at once, not deceived in the slightest.

It was a mark of how exhausted Morse was that he didn't even bother trying to argue, letting Thursday take him him under his elbows and lead him out of the room. Halfway up the stairs Morse grabbed hold of the bannister, swaying alarmingly on his feet. Thursday took a sturdy grip of his upper arms, firmly leading him to the top of the stairs, out of danger of falling. By this point, Thursday's hold was the only thing keeping Morse upright and Thursday was concerned about how light the young man felt.

In the guest room Fred pulled back the duvet, sat Morse down on the bed, handed him his pyjamas then left. Morse's pyjamas fell out of his grip and onto the floor; he was asleep before his head hit the pillow. This was how Thursday found him half an hour later when he came to check on him; fully clothed, feet still on the floor in a half lying, half sitting position. Fred loosened and removed his tie then lifted his legs into the bed, pulling the duvet over him and tucking it under his chin. He let his fingers linger on the lad's warm forehead for a minute then left, turning out the light and quietly closing the door behind him.

Returning to the living room, to everyone's surprise, Fred decided to break the hall stand rule. After all his family had been through, he felt they deserved something of an explanation. However, he promised it was for one night only, and on the proviso that no questions were allowed (looking pointedly at Joan). He provided a very watered down version of the story he had told Morse, leaving out the names and specifics, but providing a very general explanation of the main events. He told them enough that they could understand why the events had taken place, but not enough to frighten them or put them in danger. After he had finished talking, Joan was clearly bursting with curiosity but Fred just looked at her, eyebrows raised and eyes twinkling and she reluctantly swallowed her questions. He finished by emphasizing how much of an ordeal Morse had suffered, and asking them to try and avoid mentioning it.

After all the excitement and emotion, they had all crashed back down and felt the fatigue setting in. After some hot chocolate and more hugs they all quietly drifted to bed, whispering good nights to avoid waking Morse. After several weeks on the run, Fred couldn't describe the feeling of being back in his bed, far less with his wife beside him. Win had been having trouble sleeping in the empty bed, but not tonight - she snuggled into him, he wrapped her in his arms and they both fell asleep instantly.