A/N: Much of this plays on things directly from the episode Driven to Distraction. In that, Morse is so obsessed with finding someone guilty that he takes advantage of the (completely illegal) chance to go through a car dealer's records without a warrant. Siobhan was frustrated with the pace of solving the murders and began to see the chance to access the records as an acceptable lapse. So, she stayed to help Morse that night, but Lewis walked out.
The 'It's stupid, I know, but I can't let go of the wheel,' is, I believe, a direct quote from the episode. Not the most heroic of statements. Some writer was going for vulnerability there, I think. I let it stand.
A video I found on YouTube that covers much of the episode is entitled
Inspector Morse - Driven to Distraction/Radiohead - Street Spirit (Fade Out). youtube(.com)/ watch?v=L6jlnLpbWIw
There was nothing to say.
There was nothing that could be said, perhaps, seemingly beyond speech as they were in her bed.
They lay there like lingering evidence. Frozen, guilty, and revealed. For their own examination, should they be that brave. Her one arm lay beneath his head. The other thrown leaden across his back.
He surprised her with the tight hold he still had on her there in the dark. His hair was soft against her cheek. His breath still uncontrolled and so pleasantly raw. He couldn't possibly know that it all provoked her. Pricked her thoughts. Her heart.
He managed to kiss her, and she hummed her satisfaction. But it was a satisfaction she couldn't let herself enjoy.
There is nothing that needs to be said, she told herself again. There was nothing at all to say.
God, what a lie. Nothing? Then why couldn't she stop the words that thudded through her?
I love you, she wanted to say. Morse. I love you.
What am I doing here with you like this and not telling you?
Why can't I say it? Because I suspect it's one step forward and two steps back with you. Because I've seen you throw up those walls. And I will not provoke that.
...
He was asleep now. His arms had gone slack around her. So, she shifted. Pulled the covers up over him.
Siobhan couldn't see the scars he'd gotten during their case together, but she knew from memory where they lay. She let her fingers trace the worst of them, and she leaned in to kiss his elbow.
They never spoke of that investigation at length. They barely even mentioned it, because it had gone so very badly. It had left him wounded in more ways than one.
Morse had been horribly blinded by the circumstantial evidence against Boynton. As time had worn on, it had felt as if they were flailing about while the real killer stayed resolutely ahead of them.
Morse, she knew, viewed the entire investigation as an embarrassment. As a black mark on his record. Even more, he felt it as some personal failing.
By the time the case was wrapped up, it was as if there was a great distance between the two of them. He was feeling culpable, and it made him unreachable.
She had tried to provide some comfort. In hind sight, it had been as ridiculous as it was imprudent. Trying to make a stubborn man forgive himself? Desperately wanting him to see her differently? They were impossible things with a man who did things at his own pace and only when it suited him.
On the day the case was finally solved, he took his two steps backwards, even as she was falling for him.
/ / / /
The knowledge that Derek Whittaker, the driving instructor, was their murderer struck Siobhan and Lewis so suddenly as they conferred together. And with a shared look they both realized that Morse was at the track, driving with him.
Odd that they should both panic so. There really wasn't any other word for it. The two sergeants didn't speak as they raced for the driving school.
Siobhan's first impression as they reached the track was that Morse's car was completely out of control. It skidded to a halt 50 yards from where Lewis managed to stop. Fear had her running for Morse almost before Lewis had gotten their car out of gear.
She pulled the door open and heaved an audible sigh of relief seeing that he was basically all right.
"It's stupid, I know, but I can't let go of the wheel," Morse had said. Finally, she raised her hand slowly to touch his, feeling so much empathy for him in that moment. He'd been stabbed in the left forearm she could see now. Three or four gashes. But the first matter was just getting the inspector out of the car, she decided.
On the far side of the car Lewis quickly assessed Whittaker. And found him decidedly dead, his knife sticking out of his chest.
"You'll need to call someone," Siobhan said toward Lewis. "Ambulance. And the M. E."
Lewis nodded and turned to walk back to his car.
"He's beyond an ambulance," Morse managed tartly.
"For you. Not him," Siobhan breathed quietly. Her hand was still on one of his, and he seemed to be focusing on it. She squeezed.
"God, I want to get out of this car," he said with another sideways glance at the body of the man who had tried to kill him.
"Let's do it then," she whispered. And without thinking, she found she had brought her other hand up to rest on his back. He didn't flinch or seem to be bothered by it. In fact, she felt his grip on the steering wheel lessen.
"Tell him, no ambulance," Morse said.
"Might I have a look at your arm before we decide that?" He was turning now, getting his legs out of the car. She knelt in front of him and took the injured arm gently. "Not too bad. You're lucky, I'd say."
"I feel many, many things right now," he ground out. "Lucky is not one of them, oddly enough. Mostly, I feel like a damn fool." He was struggling to get up suddenly, forcing her to stand and take a step away. She hadn't realized how close she'd gotten. "I want out of this car," he told her as she worked to take it all in.
"All right," she finally agreed. She guided him out with her hand to his forearm. Then she forced him to take up a spot leaning against the car. Gently, she tugged at the sleeve of his jacket, extracting just the injured arm. He raised an eyebrow at the handling he was receiving now. And she smiled as a sort of apology.
"I don't suppose you are the type to carry a clean handkerchief?" she asked him. "I want to put pressure on this."
"Inside coat pocket. There's even gloves in there, I think. Max used to chide me on not carrying them. It's probably the same set he gave me." He was close to babbling now, and not complaining of any pain from his wounds. There must be a lot of adrenaline still in him, she decided. She met his eyes then, and he paused before telling her, "Those gloves are probably older than you." It was a strangely personal thing to say.
"Doubtful," she finally blurted out. "But maybe they are older than DC Dierdan? That fellow who is always first to open the door for you?" she tried to remind him. But her joke had not even gotten a smile out of him. Siobhan began to worry.
She got situated with his hand on her shoulder and her palm providing pressure to the wounds. She put her other hand inside his jacket then to have a hold on his ribs should he start to fall.
Should he start to fall? Who was she kidding? She wanted her hands on the man. He was hurting. Physically. Emotionally. And she would have wrapped him up in her arms at that moment if she could have...
"You would insist on leading." She missed his quip for a moment. But then saw they did look like an ass backwards ballroom couple. She laughed. "And you are making a mess of your blouse," he finished.
"I'm slightly more worried about you," she said with a perverse emphasis on the 'slightly.'
He looked away as if uncomfortable with her concern. "Cancel the ambulance," was all he said at last.
"Lewis," she called out over the car. "He says..."
"I know. I know. No ambulance. I didn't bother. I'll just bring the first aid kit," the tall man hollered back. As Lewis approached the corner of the car, Siobhan hurriedly stepped half away from Morse. She felt like a teenager caught out by the chaperone, but Lewis didn't seem to notice her unease or how close she had been standing to his boss. He put the first aid kit on the roof of the car without seeming to even take in the scene in front of him. "I'm going to be round that corner or the follow on units will completely miss us when they come over the hill," Robbie explained hurriedly, and he gestured behind him with a thumb.
Siobhan nodded in agreement.
Morse groaned once they were alone again. "What a bloody mess I've made of this!"
She wanted to console him, but he was not at all the sort. Besides, there were no words. She just bit her lip.
And slipped her hand back inside his jacket.
"You can't argue with that assessment, can you? I buggered this," he said, seeming unaware that she was near enough to embrace him.
"It went badly," she said quietly. "We focused on the wrong man. But..."
"But what? It's all alright at the end of the day because the murderer managed to impale himself with his own weapon?" he demanded heatedly.
"It's done. You managed to not get yourself killed, and HE will not be stalking any more women."
"Completely, bloody botched," he fumed. "Beginning to end. Damned..."
"Have you never mucked something up before?" she accused with a bit of impatience. She wanted to take hold of his face and make him look at her. But she had to content herself with chastising his shoulder, he had turned away so violently. "I know you are supposed to be a clever sort, but are you just that lucky, too? You've never had to take one on the chin before like the rest of us mere mortals?"
Instead of seeming angry with her outburst, he had turned back to look at her. He raised his eyebrows at her as a sort of neutral assessment. "Mere mortals?" he asked with a faintly amused look. "You know how to hurt a man."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be getting angry with you," she told him. "I'm completely out of line." She threw in a 'Sir' for good measure, but she suspected the word sounded as out of place as it felt.
"At least you aren't looking at me like you pity me any more."
"It wasn't pity," she assured him. That was all she could tell him right then, although the rest of the emotion thudded through her.
You are falling for him. A completely stupid move, Siobhan. And you are entirely bloody obvious about it, too.
There was a unit arriving now, and she knew that as good as it felt to stand there with him. To hear him joke finally. That she should help him save face and get out of there. He seemed all right with her coddling. But it would not do to have anyone else see it.
She shifted away from him a half step which only highlighted how closely she had been holding him. "M.E.'s here. Crime scene unit, too," she whispered. "They're talking to Lewis. They'll be over here..."
"Siobhan, get me..."
"Out of here. I know," she told him quietly. And she was thinking, Someone should get me out of here before I make a bigger a fool of myself. Ever since she had taken that first liberty and touched him, she couldn't stop. She felt as if he belonged to her, at least in those moments. "As soon as you are done talking to them, I'll drive you out."
He tried to pinch open the button at his neck then, but his tie was in the way. She reached up to help without thinking. She focused on the knot as it slipped through her fingers, not daring to look at him. A small part of her was screaming, 'Hurry before the world gets over here and sees you undressing him.' Because to her it did suddenly feel like that. Her hands turned to stone then with self consciousness.
"Damn," she groaned. And his hand was tangled with hers then and together they dragged the offending garment off.
"Sorry," she told him. She was apologizing for being sexually flustered. God, would he know that?
She reached to push the tie into his coat pocket and his hand intercepted her. Again she found herself apologizing. She lifted his injured arm off her shoulder finally and brought it across his chest where he could hold it. And she took the last step away from him just as the crime scene unit rounded the edge of the car.
"All right?" she queried. She shivered then and rubbed at her arms, because she felt cold now that she wasn't touching him.
"Fine," came his simple reply. But he stayed leaning against the car. His right hand cradling his left high in front of him.
"I'll be right back," she said, quietly. He wasn't even looking at her any more. She took a deep breath, and told herself to be glad he wasn't, because she knew that she was horribly flushed.
She watched then from next to Lewis' car. Morse's conversation with the crime scene pair was winding up quickly. There was the nodding. The new sergeant was taking a step backwards.
She took that as a sign to return with the keys to Lewis' car. The uniformed officer moved away as Siobhan approached. Morse's eyes were cast down and he took a step toward her. She extended a hand as if she would steady him, and he looked up to glare at her.
"Sorry. I'm a worrier." She was lying. She just suddenly could not stop thinking about how good it had felt to have her hand lie on his ribs. How lovely it had been to act possessive of him and have him not withdraw. She didn't want to give up that closeness that they had had. To have it be over.
But how pitiful was she, she wondered, that she would take advantage of a man half in shock.
"I'll get you to the hospital. Lewis is handling the scene," she said in a more professional voice. He nodded in a resigned sort of way.
As she drove him to the hospital, she could foresee all that was left of her time with this man. A day, maybe two, of paper work and pulling apart the temporary office. And then she would have to go back to her home unit. There would be no telling Morse how she felt. She could see him pulling away with every moment. There would be no admitting anything out of the ordinary had transpired. But she would be left with the feeling of an unanswered attraction. There would be that pang of loss and the worry over how she would face that bloke back home.
Hopeless, fucking hopeless, she chided herself. She felt positively ill. She had gone and fallen for this man and it was obvious that he would never feel the same.
The only sure result was that she would never be able to look at that would-be boyfriend the same way again.
/ / / / / / / / /
She smiled a touch now as she passed her hand over Morse's forearm where it lay on the blankets. Her life after the case had gone better than predicted, obviously. She had gotten up the courage to be impulsive over him yet again. She had invited him to London. And now, here they were. A couple. Even if she couldn't explain how she felt to him.
He was awake suddenly, pulling his arm away.
"Worshiping my wounds?" The words were tense.
"That day," she began before she trailed off pitifully. She would need to skirt the issue she knew. "Before that day," she said starting again. "I was attracted to you ... I had enjoyed talking and the times when we were alone. But that day."
"That day was an improvement on all of that?" he said sounding sad. "Because you like your men wounded. Tragic. Lacking."
"I knew you would be like this," she said removing her touch. "That's why I never mentioned it. The closer I get... You don't even know how hard it is for someone to get hold of you, do you? How hard it is just to get your attention. Sometimes, it is as if you are never not moving," she complained. "I don't get you like this often enough," she told him, meaning their night together. "All of your attention. And you were like that that day next to the car. Sort of... holding still so I could catch up. You were... open, telling me how you felt. It all overwhelmed me. You almost getting yourself killed. The sight of you wounded. I wanted to touch you. I was sure that when I did there would be a palpable sort of spark. Something undeniable and that you would feel it too."
"I did," he whispered.
"You never let on," she said shaking her head. "There was just that knowledge at the back of my head that the case was over, and I would have to forget about ever seeing you again. I thought I had made such a fool out of myself."
"No, that was me."
"Forget the case. Forget that embarrassment. Don't you remember the way I was fawning over you? Touching you?" she asked as she passed her hand over his ribs now. "And liking it. I liked being useful. I liked you needing me. Only you didn't really need me as much as I pretended you did," she sighed. "And, you were finally standing still long enough to see me. You thought it was pity. Or some horrible maternal instinct. And the truth was I just wanted to touch you. As right as it felt, it was so short lived. It was one step forward and two steps back," she surprised herself by saying. "The next day and until I left, it was as if nothing had happened between us. You threw up those walls. And you moved away from me every chance you got. You even stopped calling me 'Siobhan.'"
"Until that last day, when you came to say good bye," he corrected softly.
"Yes, when it was too late. When I had to wonder which you was the real one. The cold bastard that had been sulking about. Or the man I'd said good bye to."
"I had buggered that case..."
"It doesn't matter."
"It does!" he said too loudly. "I could have gotten you sacked, letting you help that night we went through the records. Ethically, legally, I was completely in the wrong."
"That's what you were thinking about?"
"And that you were going back to someone else," he said sounding hurt. "How could I believe what had happened meant anything? In my mind, as defeatist as I am, I couldn't see how it could have been anything but pity that made you care. And I was fairly awash in self pity over that mess as it was."
"So, you closed me out?"
"It wouldn't have led to anything. It was the timing. It's me. It's stupid, I know. Sooner or later, I would ruin it. Sooner, most likely. I still think that way." He paused then, and she could see there was more. "Every time I looked at you as that case wound up," he whispered then, "all I could think was that he was a lucky sod, that man you had back home. I hadn't minded you fussing over me, because I figured it was the limit of what I could ever have from you."
"Not by half," she assured him. Because I love you, she thought.
"The limit," he explained, "not because you couldn't give more. But because I would ruin anything more."
Two steps back, she thought then.