Twenty Three
Morse shivered and continued to count.
Gull had left exactly 57 minutes ago with a promise of returning that night, meaning it was still afternoon, and that, at least, minimized the list of places he could be, factoring in distance and travel time. It was only mildly reassuring, because even if he did figure out where he was, he couldn't exactly ring up Thursday or Peter to tell them, now could he?
So instead, he waited, and counted down the minutes until an entire hour had passed, ensuring that Gull really had been true to his word and left.
There were cameras in the room, or none that he could see anyway, and he doubted that the man had enough time or sanity left to expertly hide any recording devices.
Which meant he could do whatever the hell he wanted.
Once he got out of this chair, of course.
Finally reaching the 60-minute mark, and being somewhat confident that he had at least two or three hours before Gull returned, he pulled on the handcuffs to see if there was any give in them at all.
There wasn't.
Morse swore.
His pockets had been emptied, meaning he didn't have the key, and if he couldn't get the cuffs off of his hands, then he'd just have to get his hands out of the cuffs.
But there was only way of doing that.
And it wasn't exactly fun.
Thankfully Gull had never been on the giving side of handcuffs, and so he hadn't secured them tight enough to guarantee security. The general rule was leaving them loose enough to fit one finger between the handcuff and the person's wrist. That way, they couldn't slide out their hands, but nor did it cause chafing or pain. Gull had left about two, two and half fingers width, and hadn't turned his hands the correct direction either. There was a reason that the prisoner's wrists had to face each other, after all, and the ex-prisoner had just made it a hell of a lot easier for him by failing to do so.
If only dislocating a thumb actually worked like it did in books.
Leaning back to give more room, he awkwardly reached for the left cuff with his right hand and began shoving it down while twisting his wrist. The metal got as far as his thumb before biting into his skin, and his pressed his thumb against his palm to try and force the cuff over his hand. It was slow going and it was painful and cut into his skin hard enough to draw blood.
On the plus side, Morse reasoned, all the while cursing loudly and plentifully, it would dampen his skin and made it easier for the cuffs to slide off.
It took him half an hour to get his left hand free, fingers slick with blood that he tried his best not to look at. He slowly brought his arms around in front of him, stiff and sore from being forced back unnaturally for so long. The handcuffs dangled off of right arm, but he decided to leave them be for the time being. The cuts on his knuckles had reopened during the process, and the two fingers he'd injured breaking the window back at the station still stung. Best to leave his right hand uninjured then, even if it did mean confining his wrist in his own metal for the time being.
Cautiously standing, he waited for the dizziness to pass before making his way over to the door. Just as he'd feared, it was locked. And from the other side, too, most likely with a bolt given the lack of a lock on his side.
Refusing to let his hope dissipate, he walked over to the chair Gull had been sitting on. That one was bolted down as well, obviously, which is why it'd been left there, but what the maniac had failed to remove, was the empty glass on the floor.
After he'd downed the whiskey and ranted, Gull had placed the glass next to the seat and then forgot about it when he left. Now, Morse picked it up, weighing it for a moment in his hands, before spinning around and flinging it at the wall.
It smashed, and he remained perfectly still to listen for any incoming footsteps, just in case.
There were none.
Quickly going over, mindful of the broken glass beneath his shoeless feet, he found the longest shard and picked it up.
It weighted hardly anything in his hand, but cut his skin with the slighted of pressure.
It'd have to do.
Looking around, he made sure he hadn't missed anything, but the room was just as empty as it'd been when he first woke up. The air was damp and musty, further proving his underground theory, and there were no windows or vents or even a hole in the concrete wall to speak of.
Sitting back down, he put his hands behind his back again and made sure he looked like he was still trapped. The only difference, was the feeble weapon he clutched in his hands, grip tight enough to draw blood.
For now, he'd just have to wait.
Jakes threw whatever clothes were in the top drawer of his dresser into a bag, barely looking at what he was grabbing. Thursday had been adamant in his decision for him and Abby to stay with him for the time being, and they'd already packed a bag of Abby's things at the flat. It'd felt weird, being there without Morse, and he kept expecting to hear a witty comment or opera music at any moment.
There was only silence.
Abby had obviously felt it too, and stuck close to him while he packed whatever clothes and books she pointed at. Thursday had stood guard, Strange dropping DeBryn back to his office before returning to collect them.
Which led him to here, now, picking up random shirts and ties and socks that didn't match and wondering if he should have collected a few of Morse's things too, for when they found him.
When. Not if.
He was adamant of that.
Abby had fallen asleep in his arms on the drive to Morse's place, and was likely after drifting off again back in the car with Thursday, but once they got her fed and dried, she would hopefully have no problem remembering where Gull had taken her to wait for Morse. Once she told them, they'd leave her with Win and maybe Joan, too, if she was around, and then he and Thursday and Strange would burst in and kill Gull and save Morse and everything would be made right again.
He hoped.
Sliding into the backseat, Abby woke up just enough to latch herself onto his side again before returning to dreamland. Strange continued to drive until they reached Thursday's, and then helped bringing in the bags while he carried the sleeping child, still wrapped up in his coat. Win met them by the front door and immediately ushered them inside to the living room while she went upstairs to prepare Sam's old room.
Collapsing on the couch with a sigh, he couldn't help but close his eyes and lean his head back to rest, if only for a moment.
Christ, what a day.
Hearing shuffling, Jakes looked back up, only to Strange standing awkwardly by the door.
He raised an eyebrow.
The younger mand cleared his throat.
"I was just, uh…"
He trailed off, before starting again.
"I was wondering, matey, about… about you and Morse".
"What about it?" He challenged, feeling strangely defensive with the child in his arms.
"Nothing! I just… you and Morse?"
And despite everything, he couldn't help but laugh.
Quiet and somewhat hysterically, but a laugh all the same.
"Yea" Jakes replied, "I know".
"I just… I mean, were you… were you ever going to… I don't know, tell me? Maybe?" He half-asked, "The Inspector already knew, and- and Doctor DeBryn, too, by the sounds of it so… so were you?"
Strange looked genuinely hurt, and the sergeant realised that he thought he'd been purposely left out of the loop.
"We were" He replied honestly, "After the case had been solved, we were… we were going to tell everyone. Or, the people who mattered, at least".
He nodded, but didn't seem any less upset, though he tried to hide it.
"I didn't tell them, you know".
"What?"
"Thursday and DeBryn" Jakes explained, feeling like he owed the man an explanation, if only for Morse's sake, "I didn't tell them. Morse didn't either. They figured it out, and we didn't want to lie… I meant what I said, Strange. We weren't going to tell anyone until Gull had been caught".
He immediately looked relieved, "Okay. Good… I mean, not good, with Gull and the case and everything but good with you, matey, and Morse and Abigail, I guess, but not like-"
"Thanks".
He looked even more relieved to have his rambling cut off.
"You're welcome".
Under Win's watchful eye, Jakes scoffed down not one, not two, but three sandwiches, and more cups of tea than he'd have liked. It wasn't as if he was the one who'd been held captive by a maniac, but to Win, it apparently made no difference.
That, and the fact she'd decided he was family now due to his 'connection' to Abby and Morse.
If Jakes didn't know any better, he'd say she almost approved.
Abby slept right through lunch, and they decided to let her wake at her own pace, giving her brain time to sort through everything that had happened. Hopefully, it would help her remember things better as well. Thursday said he'd sent Uniform out to the area they'd found her, to go through the village asking questions and investigating anything that looked suspicious, but so far they'd found nothing, and as much as Jakes loathed to admit it, Abby's memories may be the only thing they had to go on.
So, he settled in for the evening, still in the same place on the couch with a sleeping five-year-old on top of him, and eventually, he found himself drifting off too.
Jakes woke to the sound of laughter.
Slowly opening his eyes, he found that the sun had moved from the white ceiling to the now-orange walls. It was late evening, then, at least two hours since he'd gotten here.
Hearing more laughter, he turned, and found Abby kneeling on the floor in clean clothes with a board game in front of her. She was playing against Joan.
"Looks like sleeping beauty's finally woken up".
Abby giggled and Jakes scowled, stretching and yawning and cursing his now-stiff back.
"What time is it?"
"Just after five" She answered, "Dad's gone back to the station with Jim. Said he'd leave you here to walk off that head injury of yours".
His hand automatically rose to the bandage on his forehead.
Traitor.
Turning his gaze to Abby, he returned her smile easily, "And when did you wake up, kiddo?"
"'Bout an hour ago" She replied, "I had a bath and toast and then Joanie came home".
"And I've been here ever since" She finished, flashing Jakes' a smirk, "At the mercy of this diabolical five year old".
"Hey!" She protested, "You're the one who suggested a trivia game!"
"And to think I actually believed I had a chance".
Jakes continued to smile at the pair, sitting up to try and repair the wrinkles in his jacket. In doing so, his hands brushed against something in his pocket, and he realised it was a box of cigarettes.
God, when was the last time he had a smoke?
Between Gull, getting hit over the head, and finding Abby again, nicotine cravings had been the last thing on his mind.
Now, however…
He took out the pack and shook them to get Joan's attention.
He gestured at the sliding door, "Mind if I-?"
"Oh, no, go right ahead" She replied, "Dad won't be home for a small while yet, and mum's making dinner".
Muttering a quick thanks, he stepped outside and shut the door after him before lighting up.
The first draw of the cigarette was like coming home, and he felt some of the nerves and worries from the last few hours fall away. Closing his eyes, he breathed out the smoke and did his best to settle down.
They had Abby.
Now they just needed to find Morse.
And hopefully Gull, but, you know, mostly Morse.
He glanced back as he heard the door reopen, and watched as Joan stepped out, arms wrapped around herself in the evening chill.
"I got her hooked to the radio" She said, nodding back at the glass door where Abby was leaning over the metal box, "You alright?"
"As alright as I can be, I suppose. Did your father-?"
"Explain anything at all to me?" She asked, smirking, "Not much. We've a hat stand rule, you see".
He nodded, and turned back to stare up at the sky.
Light was fading fast, and he hoped that Morse was inside, wherever he was.
Then again, knowing Gull…
"Morse is missing".
"That much I gathered. Jim said it's an old arrest of his".
"Yea. Something like that".
He offered her a cigarette, but she declined.
"Abby was telling me all about you, you know".
"Yea?" He kept his voice deceptively light, "What did she say?"
"Oh, not much, just random things. Going to the park, minding her sometimes, reading her stories… and also about your sleepovers with Morse".
He choked on the smoke.
Joan grinned teasingly.
"Tell me, Sergeant, did you stay in his bed or in a sleeping bag?"
"Miss Thur-"
"Oh, we're well past that".
"… Joan, then" He continued, "I'm- I'm not, I mean I am, but it's not- it's, Morse we're- we're-"
"Together?"
"… Yea".
She slowly nodded, "Does dad know?"
"He found out yesterday. Had a lovely discussion about it too".
"Now you realise why I don't bring anyone home".
"It… wasn't fun, no".
"Yes, well, neither will being literally emasculated by me if you ever hurt him or Abigail".
Jakes froze.
Joan continued to smile at him pleasantly.
"Are we on the same page?"
"… Definitely".
"Good. Now so, come on, dinner should be ready soon, and dad will want to talk to you and Abigail afterwards".