Mind you, I rated this T, but know that there are descriptions of blood and injury that you do not want to read if you're in any way sensitive to that. So if that is the case, please don't read this story.
If you don't mind, I'd say, enjoy!

In the end it was the rain that finally woke him up. First only softly dripping on his face, then falling harder, as if the weather noticed he wouldn't wake by the soft pour only.

Morse groaned. Rain? He surely couldn't remember falling asleep somewhere outside. He couldn't really remember anything at all actually.

He would have let the darkness swallow him again if it wasn't for the cold that slowly started to make it's way into his dazed mind. But not only the cold finally got through to him. Pain, as well, started to become more and more noticeable.

Where it hurt? Morse couldn't tell. Everywhere. But as soon as he focused on it, he realised the extent. It wasn't just a slight discomfort, there really was something wrong. So he tried to pry his eyes open, to see what was happening. Only they were heavy, so heavy, and Morse didn't know if he really wanted them to open. Falling back into unconsciousness seemed a far better plan.

But something nagged at the back of his mind, a sense of urgency. There was something he was doing, something he should be doing. So he tried again, and this time his eyelids cooperated. But everything he saw through the mist of raindrops was stone. Bricks.

Where was he?

It was dark as well. Not in the midst of the night, but definitely far in the evening. He lay on his belly, on the street somewhere outside, that at least, he was sure of.

Now for the next step. Moving.

That was even harder than getting his eyes open, but he managed to at least lift his head and take a look at his surroundings. He was alone, on the ground in an alley. Closed in by walls on three sides, and a handful of bins and rubbish on the other. Judging by the sound of cars going past, he wasn't that far from the road, but it wasn't directly at the other end of the alley either.

This place, combined with the dazzling pain, didn't make it hard to figure out. Someone had knocked the living daylight out of him. Why couldn't he remember? His head hurt like hell though, that might have something to do with it.

He noticed a puddle of blood on the street, right where his head had just been. He suspected it came from his nose, breathing through it was almost impossible. He reached out to touch it, but the movement caused his arm too feel like it had splintered into a thousand pieces, and he couldn't help but gasp. He gritted his teeth and waited for the pain to subdue before trying to move his left arm. That seemed to go better, but this time his shoulder was loudly protesting, so he decided to let it rest. To say the fact that he was injured on the ground somewhere, hardly even able to move and without any recollection of what had occurred was worrying would be a huge understatement.

Would anyone know where he was? He hoped so, but he wasn't going to count on it. Thursday told him multiple times he should let someone know where he was going before storming off, and he hoped he had listened this time, but there was a fat change he hadn't. Morse knew himself well enough for that.

Thinking about the station also finally brought back memories about the case he had been working on. A girl, found dead in her car, which had been burned to the ground. An accident, it had seemed. But Morse had thought differently, to great amusement of Thursday apparently.

But he had been right. The autopsy had showed that the girl had been hit on her head, rather hard, before the car had started burning. So someone had knocked her out, sat her in the car and burned it down to make it look like an accident. And Morse had found out who. He knew he had. He just couldn't remember it for some reason. It was probably the same who was responsible for him lying here in the cold, but try as he might, he couldn't remember anything about what had happened. He couldn't even remember why he had left the station in the first place.

Frustrated, he let his head fall on the stone again. Which hadn't been the smartest idea, as it didn't do his blazing headache any good. The information would come back to him when his headache passed, he hoped. For now priority one was getting up, and back to the station. The seeping cold from the rain didn't make it any easier to start moving, but he knew he had to. He didn't want to think about the consequences if he wasn't be able to get up.

He started to roll around on his back, and muffled a cry when his sore shoulder had to bear his full weight. His ribs were worse though, he was positive at least one was broken, probably more, so he ended up lifted himself up a bit with his -relative- good arm to not completely squash his ribs into dust by rolling onto them.

Lying on his back, the rain mercilessly fell down on his face and in his eyes. It brought blood with it as the drops rolled down his cheeks, confirming that his nose had indeed been the one responsible for the puddle of blood on the street. Well, he thought sourly, the more you know.

After a moment of rest, he knew the next step was to sit upright.

And he wanted to, but everything was just so sore, and it was cold! Morse could feel it seeping into his bones, making his muscles weak and his brain even blurrier. He was breathing hard, he realised, and really just wanted to close his eyes. He didn't know if he had the energy left to move around, let alone walk.

With a start he realised he might have to come to terms with the fact that he would not make it out this time.

But he had to try, he had to try at least. For the girl. For her family. He was terrified he would never again remember who had murdered her, but if that were the case, he would find out again. He had figured it out before, he could figure it out again. But not if he was lying dead, somewhere in an alley.

With that in his mind, he heaved himself upright, arms and ribs screaming in protest. He bit his lip and moved over to the nearby wall, so he could rest his back against it. Groaning, he took a good look at what had been done to him, apart from the multiple bruises that would without a doubt turn blue and purple in a few hours.

His right arm was most likely broken, there was no strength left in his fingers. His left arm was mostly intact, though his shoulder had probably been dislocated at some point. It had popped back in his socket however, leaving only the pain of pulled muscles behind. Neither one of his legs seemed to be broken, so that was a huge relief, he would at least be able to stumble around a bit. Provided he could find the energy to do that, of course.

His ribs were by far the worst, with probably a few broken ones, as he had established. With hands shaking from the cold, and maybe the shock, he opened his jacket to examine his chest closer, and noticed the patch of blood on his shirt at his side. It wasn't a lot, but important nevertheless, and he got the awful feeling he knew what the cause could be.

He took a deep breath, and lifted his shirt to reveal what he had feared. One of the broken ribs had managed to puncture right through his skin. His breathing quickened and a sudden nausea threatened to overwhelm him. He pulled his shirt down quickly and tried not to think about the sight of it, or, more importantly, the damage a broken rib could do near vital organs.

He swallowed to keep the bile at bay and tried to get his breath back, but he found that neither really worked. Everything came up and he puked on the ground beside him, chest heaving with the effort. He ignored the sharp pain in his ribs as his stomach turned against him.
He ignored the tears as well.

It's just blood. Morse told himself as his heart pounded in his chest, and his ragged breathing turned into harsh coughs. Just a bit of blood. But it didn't seem to help.

After what seemed ages, his breathing finally slowed down again, and he rested his head against the wall behind him. He knew he had to get up, but he was so incredibly tired. His throat was sore and his ribs were killing him. Not to mention the constant pounding in his head. All the fight had gone out of him and he just wanted to sleep. Maybe he could rest for a while, just a little while. It rained still, but he didn't even feel the cold anymore. Morse closed his eyes. Just a little while, then he'd get up. Really.

The call came when Thursday was helping Win with the dishes.

"I'll go get it, love." He said, handing the towel to his wife, and walking to the hall to pick up the phone.

"Thursday."

He didn't recognize the officer at the phone, but whoever he was, he didn't waste any time. "Sir, someone is found injured in an alley, an ambulance is being called as we speak, but I thought you should know. His description matches that of Morse."

Thursday's heart skipped a beat. Morse? What kind of trouble had he gotten himself into now? He hoped with all his heart it wasn't serious, the lad had gone through enough already.

"Where is he?" He barked into the phone, already moving to grab his coat.

The officer gave an address, and Thursday hung up without as much as a thank-you. He turned to Win who came walking to the doorway, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

"It's Morse, he might be injured." He offered by way of explanation.

Win looked shocked but recovered quickly and ushered him out of the door. "Go then," she said, giving him a quick kiss. "Call me if you know anything."

Thursday shrugged on his coat and took his hat. "I will." He said, as he hurried through the door.

The place wasn't too far from his house, if he drove a bit faster he might even be there sooner than the ambulance. He got into the car and, completely ignoring the speed limit, raced to the given address.

X

The ambulance indeed hadn't arrived yet when he arrived at the place, but Thursday could already hear the sirens in the distance. He hope they'd hurry.

He parked the car hastily on the side of the road, and made his way through the alley to find the spot the officer on the phone had mentioned. He desperately hoped that it wasn't Morse he would find, just another poor sod who happened to look like him. But as he turned the corner and saw the figure sitting in the rain, his heart fell and shattered on the ground.

It was Morse alright. Propped up against the wall, completely drenched and his eyes closed. There was blood on his shirt and on his face, where it stood out brightly against the ashen colour of his skin.

Someone else stood a few feet away looking very uncomfortable, but his expression turned to relief once he saw Thursday approaching. Thursday guessed it was the caller, but he ignored him as he ran past. He would thank him later. As he rushed to his fallen partner's side he could only hope they were not too late.

This time it wasn't the rain that woke him. No, in the distance someone was calling his name and it was getting louder and honestly, it was a tad annoying.

"Morse, Morse!"

There was something familiar about the voice, that was true, but really, did they have to ask him to open his eyes? Again? What a drag.

Eventually though, he did, if only to tell whoever it was that was shouting to shut up. But as his view cleared and Thursday's face appeared, he realised there must be a reason for him calling.

"Morse?" Relief was evident on the DI's face.

"S-sir? What..?"

"Alright Morse, it's alright, you're safe."

Only then he remembered what had happened, and he immediately became aware of his sore body again. A soft whimper escaped his lips, and gods, whoever had beaten him had done a good job.

"It's alright, the ambulance is on it's way, just hold on a little longer alright lad?"

Thursday had draped his coat over him, Morse noticed, but still he couldn't help shivering in the cold. Sleep sounded marvellous right now. But as soon as his eyes drooped, a warm hand touched his cheek.

"Stay awake now, Morse, look at me."

Reluctantly he opened his eyes again. Recognizing, somewhere, that passing out right now probably wasn't the best idea.

After what seemed a lifetime, but what in fact had not even been a minute, two other figures showed up and he saw Thursday stepping out of the way.

Hands grabbed his shoulders and legs and Morse had to keep from crying out as he was lifted on a stretcher. As it was rolled into the ambulance one coherent thought entered his brain and Morse sighed in relief.

The boyfriend.

It was the boyfriend.

He knew he needed to tell Thursday, and turned his head to find him. When he saw Morse looking at him, Thursday, who had climbed into the ambulance as well, frowned. "Oh no, I know that look, don't you dare for one second think about the case now."

Morse could only whisper, but it was enough to get the message across. "The boyfriend killed her."

"You bloody fool." Thursday sighed in exasperation, but Morse didn't miss the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Knowing the information was safe, Morse could finally close his eyes again, and let darkness take him.

Reviews are much appreciated!