Well, this is a crossover of sorts, because the first half is set in 1982 and features Morse. There's a bit of implied violence in there, but nothing graphic. I am also unsure about how well it actually fits in with Morse and Lewis canon but its just a little thing that popped into my head. Hope you enjoy :)
Morse groaned. Damn these big bloody country estates. And damn armed robbers that go to ground in them.
A gang of armed robbers had run into the grounds and hidden. They'd shot a young girl cashier and one of the coppers that was sent in to apprehend them. As it was, they were sat in the estate managers house. The estate manager was no-where to be seen, but his wife, who had just made tea for the cops invading her living room, informed him that her husband was up at the Mortmaigne's house. Morse got the distinct feeling that he was there often.
"You're on your own in the house then Mrs...?"
"Josephine please inspector."
"You're on your own in the house then Josephine?"
"No, my son is out the back playing. He's four."
"Ah. I would advise that you bring him inside. The men we are hunting are not the most principled." Morse felt uneasy about the idea of a young boy outside alone with a gang of armed men running around. No, it'd definitely be safer for the child to be in the house, with his mother. She evidently agreed because she immediately got up and headed towards the back door. He sat, observing the furnishings of the house, a strange sense of unease prickling at the back of his neck. Typically, when the police turned up at a house, the kids were the first in the room, asking annoying questions and being awestruck by the presence of coppers in the house. Yet the boy had stayed away, and he surely couldn't have missed the sirens and flashing lights.
His fears were confirmed when the lady of the house came rushing back in, wringing her hands frantically.
"He's gone inspector, no trace of him!" He bade her calm down and then signalled to the uniformed copper stood anxiously by the door.
"Do a quick sweep of the area constable, he's only four, he couldn't have gone far." Josephine looks up to give him a sad smile.
"You don't have kids do you Mr Morse, believe me, they can cover larger distances than you'd think."
"No, no I don't" Morse said sadly. "What does your son look like?"
"H-he's so high" she stutters, indicating about 3 foot with her hand. "He has short blond hair and blue eyes."
"His name? He might respond if the uniformed men can call his name as they are looking."
"J-James."
"Got that Constable?" Morse asks the uniformed man. He nods grimly and motions for a few more men to follow him. Morse didn't miss that grin look. That copper had been at the bank and he's seen these men in action. It's clear that he doesn't hold out much hope for the four year old's chances. Morse grimaces, where did this bloody idiot train? Number one rule when kids go missing: you don't show lack of hope in front of the parents. He glares at the retreating man's back. Amateur!
He's just about to attempt to calm the distressed mother down, when a uniformed copper bursts into the room.
"Sir!" he says breathlessly, his Geordie accent thick with nerves and stress. "Our boys have picked them up, less than half a mile away." The lad looks slightly terrified, Morse wouldn't mind betting that it's his first big job like this.
"Tell them to wait for me before making a move. Do they know about the missing boy?" The copper shakes his head.
"What boy sir?"
"He went missing from here. Four years old. Let the lads know. And then I need you to come back here and sit with the mother." The copper nodded and jogged out.
Two minutes later, he's back and he stands awkwardly in the doorway.
"Er...shall ah make a brew sir?"
"Yes," These kids, no one teaches them to make decisions these days. He softens his glare though. This one is trying, and he hasn't done a bad job so far.
"Ok Josephine, I'm going to leave you in the capable hands of constable...er?"
"Lewis sir. PC Robbie Lewis."
"Good lad. Just look after her ok?"
"Yes sir."
Fifteen minutes later and Morse is crouching in a bush, surrounded by uniformed policemen. Its a stand-off, the gang hiding in a similar place about 100 metres away. The chief inspector is getting frustrated. Its a stale mate and he hates them. Every minute that they were there, he and his men were in danger.
Suddenly, he hears a crunch followed by a surprised gasp. Its only when the first gasp is followed by several more that it clicks in his head. The boy! Its not gasping, its crying. Morse looks over the top of the foliage, and sees the child wandering through the wood, clutching a blanket and sobbing quietly. At the same precise moment, he sees the gang leader look and notice the child too. It hits him that the man is planning to snatch the kid, and he urgently whispers to the two constables closet to him.
"Covering fire, on my signal. And watch that kid, I don't want the shot going anywhere near him." They nod, and aims their sights over the boys head.
"James?" the little boy looks around in shock, eyes wide.
"What are you doing out here lad? Come on, come towards me, there's a good boy." Little James merely stares, frozen to the spot in fear.
"I'm a policeman James", Morse says kindly but urgently, as he notices the gang leader making a move towards the child. It's obvious that the boy isn't going to move, he's clearly terrified. There's nothing for it.
"NOW!" he shouts, running towards James, bullets flying overhead. He dives to the ground, pulling the four year old down with him.
10 minutes later, and all the excitement has died down. Morse walks back towards the Hathaway's little cottage, James ensconced in his arms. The little boy is still crying and Morse doesn't know how to comfort him. He tries gently shushing him, tries simply asking him to stop crying. He could palm the kid off on one of the many policemen that are wandering around, but a tiny part of Morse is enchanted by the trusting little life that he's holding. For while he's crying, James has grabbed hold of Morse's shirt and he won't let go. The gruff old chief inspector is strangely moved by it.
He returns to the house and is surprised to find young Lewis sitting on his own.
"Where's Mrs Hathaway?"
"The doc had t'come and sedate her sir. She heard the gunshots and went hysterical."
"Ok then. Well, we have her son here, when she returns to the here and now. I only wish I knew how to stop the little sod crying." The young constable smiles and Morse knows that Lewis sees right through his gruff dismissal of the child.
"I have two bairns sir, give him here." Morse walked over and Lewis firmly but gently forced the little boy to relinquish his grip on Morse's shirt.
Morse sat back and watched as the uniformed man coaxed James to stop crying. Soon enough, little James was curled into PC Robbie Lewis' side, sniffling slightly and fighting sleep. Lewis' helmet was sitting on his knee and the young boy sleepily traced the badge on the front with his finger.
Once he had learned that Morse would stay until Mrs Hathaway had recovered, Lewis immediately volunteered as well. The chief inspector thought that the young man would go far, he'd be an asset to CID. He was obviously adaptable, going from chasing criminals, to looking after terrified mothers, to calming young children with ease. Although the child bit seemed to come naturally.
Morse looked up from the book he was reading and he couldn't help but smile. Both of them were asleep, Lewis' arm protectively cradling the child even while he slumbered. Mrs Hathaway emerged and gently removed little James from the tired young copper's arms, thanking Morse profusely for bringing her child back safe. She went to put James to bed, and Morse gently tapped Lewis' shoulder. He was acutely aware that all the other uniforms had left the scene and he wondered how this lad was going to get home to his own kids.
"Come on lad, wake up" He watched almost fondly as the young Geordie stirred in confusion, snapping awake as he realised that the child was gone from his grasp. Morse stilled him, with a gentle hand on the shoulder.
"The child is safe in bed constable, come on, I'll give you a lift home."
Lewis has worked with James for 5 years before he recalls any of this. They are sitting in a pub that he'd often drank in with Morse. Although, thinking about it, he'd have to leave Oxford to find a pub that he hadn't drank in with Morse.
He wonders what Morse would have thought about James, what he'd have thought of the way the little scared four year old had grown up. He reckons that Hathaway and Morse would have bonded over hard childhoods, if nothing else. It certainly wasn't going to be religious beliefs, or love of Wagner. Would his former mentor be glad of James' chosen profession?
He feels an ache that he hasn't felt for a while. He hasn't thought of Morse in a while, not properly. Hathaway walks back to his their table, carrying two beers. Before Robbie has chance to say thanks, James has turned around and disappeared again. It worries Robbie a little. It was only a couple of hours ago, that he'd had to talk James out of handing in his resignation.
When James appears again a few minutes later, holding on to two whisker chasers, Robbie smiles. He fancies he can hear Morse's voice in his head;
"You've got yourself a good boy there Lewis, you see that you look after him. Don't let him go the same way as me."
Robbie promises the Morse in his head that he'll look after James, as the man in question sets the scotches on the table. He wonders if James remembers anything of that day back when he was a child. Considering what they've just learnt about Creavecour Hall, Robbie isn't sure that he should bring it up. After all, he's still unclear about how much Hathaway knew about what was going on.
As it turned out, he didn't have to bring it up at all. James did that himself, while sipping at his whiskey.
"That wasn't the first time that there has been that many police up at Creavecour you know sir?"
"No?" Lewis answers casually. He's aware that this might be James trying to tell him something important, and he doesn't want to make the lad clam up.
"My mother always used to tell me about the time that a gang of armed robbers used the grounds to er...go to ground, as it were and I wandered off. She said that a chief inspector found me and brought me back, while a young constable sat with her. " Relief flooding him that James didn't just tell him something horrible about his youth, Robbie smirked into his glass. James is always surprising him with his wit and knowledge, its Robbie's turn for a change.
"That must have been scary for you."
"S'pose, don't really remember it. Apparently I fell asleep on the constable."
"Aye, that you did."
"Mum said that he fell asleep t-" Lewis grinned. "Wait, how do you know?"
"1982 that was. PC Robbie Lewis, fresh into Oxford and scared shitless."
"You! I fell asleep on you?" James was incredulous.
"Yeah, and then I fell asleep on your armchair. Morse had to wake me up, gave me a lift home as well." James squirmed a little in embarrassment. Lewis' grin grew wider. "I promise James, you behaved impeccably." The younger man scowled at him.
"You might've mentioned it."
"I only just remembered." He paused, staring down into his drink. "You know, its funny really."
"What's funny sir?" James clearly thought Robbie was going to laugh at him, and he was quick to explain.
"That was the first time I met Morse. Properly talked with him like. The next was a few years later. I think we'd both forgotten that we'd met at Creavecour by then. But that second time, he took me on as his sergeant. And now here we are. Me, the inspector for the little boy that caused our first meeting." James watches him, clearly unsure what to say.
"I...er..."
"He'd have liked you James. I really think he'd have liked you." James smiled warmly at him and settled back in his chair, looking out at the river.
Lewis followed suit, contemplating how strange it should be, that his past and his present should come crashing together in such a fashion. Sneaking a glance at the man he was beginning to see as a son, he thanked whatever was answerable that it had.