Twenty Eight

Jakes' stitches were removed the same morning as Morse's breathing tube and blood bag, nearly four days after they'd first arrived at hospital.

The man had yet to wake up, but all the doctors and nurses assured him that he was getting better, and that he would regain consciousness in his own time, when his body decided it was well enough to do so.

And, as usual, Morse was taking his own bloody time.

Jakes returned to the Thursdays' for a shower and change of clothes while Joan kept watch at the hospital. Abby was delighted to see him, and he was just as happy to see her, something uneasy in his chest settling when he saw she was safe and well. Win forced him to stay for lunch, expertly guilt tripping him into it, and then he dropped by the station to deal with any issues the aftermath of Gull's death might have caused.

He received a hero's welcome, his 'battle wounds' on show in a sling, and despite having relished in the attention in the past, Jakes found himself wanting to avoid everyone now and just get back to Morse as soon as possible.

So, he grinned and bared it, answered every question as vaguely as he could, and flat out glared at anyone who made a 'birds love a man injured in the of duty' comment. A quick look-in to Bright resulted in awkward praise and "don't worry about the case, just focus on recovering". Thursday was more blunt with his "what the hell are you doing here Peter?" but reluctantly allowed him to get all the necessary paperwork done at once. And then it was back to the hospital to relieve Joan, who smiled, kissed his cheek, and offered to fetch him some coffee before she left.

The next morning Thursday arrived, and told him that Win would be bringing Abby later that day, since he was back on his feet and most of Morse's bruising had faded. The younger man still looked horrible, of course, all bandaged and stitched up like some sort of gothic monster, but compared to how he was when they found him...

Well.

He hoped Abby wouldn't be too scared of it all.

They arrived just before lunch time, Win with her handbag on one arm and a picnic basket with sandwiches and a small trifle in the other. He met them in the hospital waiting room, Abby immediately grinning and all-but launching herself at him. He caught her as best he could, but had to set her back down after a few minutes as his shoulder protested.

She didn't mind, though, rambling about how it was her idea to have a picnic, despite the fact that they were inside, and how she'd helped make the sandwiches and had put cream on the trifle and she brought Herbert with her too in case Max was around but she couldn't wait to see her dad and it had been ages since she'd spent any proper time with Jakes and she had so many stories to tell him from the last few days and-

"I genuinely don't know how you even raised one, let alone two" Jakes told Win quietly, as Abby continued to talk without pausing for breath.

"Don't worry, dear. The second she sees the sandwiches, she'll stop".

He gave her a curious look, but she merely smiled and patted his good arm.

"Why do you think I make them for Fred?"

They decided to have lunch in Morse's room, as Jakes didn't want him to be alone for too long, and Abby was anxious to see him right away, despite them telling her he was still sleeping. And so it was with bated breath that he pushed open the door ahead of her and watched as she stepped into the same room as her father in almost two weeks.

Abby froze when she saw him.

Jakes swallowed thickly and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Win handed him the picnic basket and excused herself to the bathroom to give them time alone.

"... Daddy?"

Morse remained silent and still, plasters on his cheek and lip, bandages on his forehead and wrists. Jakes was glad he'd had the foresight to pull the man's blankets up to his neck, not wanting his daughter to see the myriad of stitches and gauze that was now his chest.

Abby slowly took a step forward, and then another, and another more quickly, until she was running for the bed and he had to rush after her to stop her from jumping up on it.

"Daddy?" She repeated, wrapping small fingers around the unconscious man's hand. There was an urgent, pleading tone to her voice that made Jakes feel wretched inside.

She turned to him, wide blue eyes brimming with tears.

"Why won't he wake up?!"

Christ.

Jakes took a deep breath before setting the picnic basket on the edge of the bed and crouching down so they were at the same level.

"Abby... The bad man who took you didn't like your dad. It wasn't anything that he did, or- or said, it was just... the bad man was unhealthy, in his head. He hurt your dad, but then we found him, and now the hospital is making him better again... But for that to happen, he needs to sleep a lot".

"But can't he wake for just a few minutes? To say hello?" She begged, "Then he can go straight back to sleep again, I promise!"

"I'm sorry, kiddo, but it doesn't work like that".

The first of the tears overflowed and he didn't hesitate to pull her forwards and wrap himself around her. She cried, quietly, against his good shoulder, but didn't argue or ask anymore, and Jakes honestly wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

"When will he wake up?" She eventually whispered, after a good five minutes had passed.

"... I don't know, kiddo" He admitted, "But he will, I promise you that. Your dad just needs time to get better, and the longer he sleeps, the better he'll feel when he does wake".

Abby took a deep breath and nodded, pulling back.

"Did the bad man hurt you too?"

He winced as her gaze latched onto the sling.

"Yea. He did. But he- he can't hurt anyone, anymore, okay? So you're safe, and your daddy's safe, and I'm safe, too. The bad man is gone now... and he's never coming back".

As Win had said, Abby settled down once the food was brought out, though Jakes wondered how much of that was actually due to the inside picnic, and how much was due to seeing her father in such a state. They left later that evening, with a fair amount of fanfare and tears from the five-year-old, protests which only abated after Win promised to bring her back the next day.

And so it went, day after day, Abby running ahead to hug Jakes, ask if her dad had woken up yet, and then sit in a sort of mulish silence until Win said it was time to go home. They developed a routine before too long, where Thursday would bring Abby in with him on his way to work, and then Win would pick her up before dinner. As loving as her honorary grandmother was, the woman did have her own life before all this, and she needed a break from the five-year-old as well. Jakes was all too glad to take over babysitting duties, especially since he meant he could keep track of his two favourite people at once. They had other visitors, sometimes, Joan spending her lunch break with them or Monica, Strange and Max calling in on their way home. It was slow going, but Jakes knew it was a process he couldn't rush.

Eventually, his sling was removed, and he was given firm instructions not to move too quickly or lift anything too strenuous. Abby ignored those orders completely, and now spent most of the day curled up on his lap, either napping, drawing, or listening to his stories, sometimes nonsensical, sometimes from his own past. It wasn't exactly a normal situation, but they made it work.

Today was a napping day, Thursday having told him she'd woken from nightmares early last night and hadn't gone back to bed since. She was fast asleep, head on his shoulder, one hand grasping his shirt and the other wrapped around Herbert the giraffe. Jakes was awake, but weary, and staring at his unconscious partner.

"It's about time you woke up, you know" He said quietly, listening to the steady beeping of the heart monitor in the background.

"It's been over a week since we found you, since... since everything. The doctor's say it's up to you now, to wake".

There was no response.

Jakes sighed, "I can understand why you don't want to, I suppose. Having to face everything means admitting that it actually happened and... well, even I don't want to admit that".

Abby shifted against him for a moment before settling down again.

"At least wake up for her, okay? Because she's a great kid, Morse, she's- she's incredible and... and she deserves to have a father. The Thursdays and I are minding her now, but you know that's not the same".

*Beep... Beep... Beep*

"That's probably something we should talk about, by the way" He continued, "What would happen to her if- if anything ever happened to you... You probably have it sorted, probably have... I don't know, someone who's agreed to take custody of her, but if you don't then she'd be sent to her mother and if not her then she'd be put in foster care or a- a school or- or-"

He let out a ragged breath and ran a tired hand over his face.

"... You can't let that happen to her, Morse. I won't let it. Not after- Not after I told you about- about there and- and what that did to me, I can't-"

*Beep.. Beep.. Beep*

"... I'd kidnap her. If that- If that was ever going to happen, if she was going to be taken away from me and sent to- to a place like that... Christ, Morse, I'd grab her and run, the law be damned".

He was surprised himself by the vehemence in his voice.

"You know Thursday would help me, lead the police on a wild goose chase to- to Wales or someplace, and we'd get away and- and I don't know, change our names, find a- a quiet village somewhere, settle down or... We just really need to talk about that".

*Beep. Beep. Beep*

He frowned and turned to the quickening machine.

"Morse?"

The unconscious man's fingers twitched.

"Morse?"

The machine got louder.

"... Morse?"

And then suddenly, storm coloured eyes were staring back at him.

Morse woke slowly.

It was like going through different stages. First there was a sort of awareness, where he knew he wasn't awake but nor was he sleeping. Then came the sense of touch; realising he was lying down on something soft with a pillow beneath his head and a warm hand in his more often than not. Third, was his sense of smell, which was weird, being surrounded by clinical cleanness when he last remembered metallic blood and wet grass beneath his hands. Then his hearing, which seemed to appear all at once, because one minute there was an empty silence and then next there was oh-so-familiar rambling. And fifthly, finally, he could open his eyes again.

Peter was sitting in a plastic hospital chair next to him, messy haired and wide eyed, with Abby sound asleep on his lap, drooling on his shirt and choking the life out of poor Herbert. It took a second for the image to process, for him to realise that if they were here, then he must be in hospital, and if he was in hospital then-

Then he was safe.

"Morse?"

He blinked.

"... Pe't'r".

His voice was rough from disuse, and the word was mangled beyond beyond belief, but it still cause the older man to smile, a soft upturn at the side of his mouth as the corner of his eyes crinkled and Morse didn't think he'd ever seen such a beautiful sight.

"About damn time you woke" He said teasingly, strangely hoarse sounding, "You're in hospital... Gull's dead, but everyone else is fine".

He immediately relaxed, breathing easier at the reassurance he hadn't even known he'd needed. Now that he had that ascertained, he began to catalogue his injuries. He was stiff and sore, but the pain was muted, distant almost, like his brain felt too, and he guessed that he was on the good stuff.

"Day s'it?"

"Wednesday" Jakes replied, "Almost two weeks since we found you... Christ, Morse-"

"C'mere".

He didn't need to be asked twice, and Abby was quickly but gently placed in his chair as he all but rushed over and collapsed on his knees at the side of the bed, warm fingers grasping his hand and head resting on his shoulder as his entire body shook with relief.

"I thought we'd- I'd- lost you" He choked out, and Morse struggled to fight back his own tears.

"Never" He promised, "Too stubborn for that".

Jakes gave a choked laugh, and when he looked up, the younger man was startled to find him misty eyed.

"... Don't ever do that again, okay?"

"Occupational hazard".

"Occupational hazard is getting shot" He snapped, "You- You sacrificed yourself like a- a-"

"-a father?" He finished, "He had Abby".

"I know! I know, I-"

Jakes cut himself off and took a deep breath.

"... This was wait until you're better. Along with a few other things we need to talk about" He stood, stiffly, Morse noted with some concern.

"I'll fetch the doctor".

Morse watched him go with some regret and a lot of confusion.

Peter was angry, yes, and justifiably so, but he couldn't deny for one second that he wouldn't have done the same thing, so that couldn't be what was bothering him. The awkward way he was holding himself, both when he was on the floor and standing, spoke of stiffness and pain. Having Abby curled up on him could explain the former, but not the latter.

And speaking of Abby…

He watched as the girl shifted in the chair and then pouted in her sleep, obviously aware on some level that Jakes was no longer holding her. He couldn't help but smile fondly at the sight, even as the tears returned to his eyes.

He thought he'd never see her again.

He thought he'd never see anyone again.

And now here she was, slowly waking up from the lack of Peter, Peter who had to deal with the fall out of him going missing, Peter who had to care for her while he was gone, Peter who had to raise her despite everything he was going through himself, despite missing him just as fiercely as Abby, despite having to work and lie and tell her it was all going to be okay when there was every possibility that it wasn't.

Maybe it was selfish, what he did, leaving the man to deal with all of that… but if it meant that Abby lived and maybe Morse didn't… then he'd do it the exact same way all over again.

Abby slowly blinked, yawning and stretching sleepily. Herbert fell from her grasp and landed on the tiled floor below. She quickly reached down to grab him, and as she sat back up, she finally saw him.

She stilled, blue eyes wide and mouth partly open.

Morse smiled.

"Hey sweetheart".

She flung herself at him.

"Daddy! You're awake and- and talking and- and awake and-"

"I know, I know, it's okay" He quickly reassured, wincing as she clambered onto the bed next to him and pressed against hidden wounds.

"Peter said he'd get you back, he promised me, and then he did but I was still so scared because I couldn't see you for ages but then Peter came home and said I could see you the next day and-"

"Wait, hang on, when did it become Peter?"

Abby blinked.

"Well I can't call him daddy cause that's you".

Morse choked.

"I- You- I'm- You're-"

He forced himself to stop because Thursday would never let him out of his sight if he had a heart attack now.

"… Did Peter ask you to call him that?"

"No. But Joan said I should cause he loves you" She made a disgusted face, "She also said a lot of other gross mushy stuff but- Do you not love him back?"

How the hell was this his life?

"I… I don't not love him back but this is… I mean, it's…"

He took a deep breath.

"… Abby, do you like Peter?"

"Of course!"

"And… do you like him enough to… to see him every day, maybe?"

"As in he'd live with us?"

"No! No, I just- I mean, eventually, it's- it's possible but not- not now, just… in general" He finished lamely.

Abby sighed and sat back.

"Daddy, if you don't love him back, then you should just tell him. Joan says communication is necessary in every relationship".

As soon as he was able to stand again, he was going to kill her.

And he was going to make Max hide the evidence.

Morse ran a somewhat shaky hand through her hair, mourning at how much older she seemed now, despite it only being a few weeks since he'd last seen her.

"Abby… It's not just me I have to think about".

"Who? Monica? Cause she's visited a few times and her and Peter are friends now".

"No, sweetheart. You".

"Me?!" She scrunched up her nose, "Why do you have to think about me?"

"Because if anything ever happened-"

"Like now?"

"… Yea. Like now" He finally replied, "If… If I was ever not here, Abby, then would you be happy living with Peter?"

"Could I still see Win and Joan?"

"Of course".

"And… And Monica? And Max?"

"It'd be difficult to keep them away".

She seemed to think for a minute, and he felt his heart constrict with nerves.

"… Yea" She eventually answered, "I'd be happy".

Morse let out a heavy breath.

"Good. Good, that's… that's good, then".

"So, will you tell Peter you love him back now?"

The door suddenly swung open, and he jumped, face immediately flushing as the man in question walked in, a doctor quickly following behind. Peter smiled at him, softly, and then effortlessly lifted Abby off the bed and sat back down in the chair. She didn't hesitate to return to her previous position on his lap, Herbert clasped tightly in her hands and the doctor began checking the machines he was connected to.

Watching them sit there, together, and clearly so at ease with one another did something to Morse's stomach, and he worried that the heart monitor would give him away. Abby wasn't wrong, after all, and as much as he loathed to admit it, neither was Joan.

Communication was necessary in every relationship.

And it was about time he and Peter had a talk.