Chapter Text
~)Retrospect(~
They were dragged away during the firefight with DI Thursday and CF Strange. The criminals threw them both in the backseat of a car, Morse fought with one of the violent robbers. Trying everything he could to get them out of this situation, but was easily overpowered. Cole Matthews was like a bull compared to his thin build-ed frame. The man was broad shouldered, trained, someone you didn't pick a fight with during a night out.
Cole brutally grabbed his collar and looked him straight in the eye, 'Behave or you'll be sorry.' he hissed angry, pressing the pointy end of his gun against the younger man’s throat. But Morse didn't care he's been through so many things already, but the thought of a bunch of violent criminals kidnapping Joan was the worst thing he could think of. So he fought and fought, until a heavy fist connected with his temple and he fell in an endless stream of stars and after that, darkness crushed him like a leaf.
(~Present~)
Morse and Joan Thursday were taken as hostages. The two men had blindfolded them both, a demanding voice led them through a door of a somewhat rusty building. The stairs creaked eerily under their steps. It was dusty, Morse tasted copper on his tongue, so that meaned they were in some kind of old garage. Suddenly he heard some twittering seagulls in the distance, outside, flying around. So they were near the sea, possibly at a harbor.
As fast as he could, he thought of all the near harbors he visited, the suburbs and the places were no one dared to come. Maybe they were in some kind of unused warehouse at a deserted part of the harbor.
Morse didn't visit the harbors often, in his whole life he visited maybe two or three harbors? God knows where they were. Even if he did his best to collect the slightest clue, he wouldn't know.
They walked into what must’ve been a big room, because a slight echo touched its corners.
Suddenly the sound of wood scrapping the stone floor brought Morse out of his raging thoughts. The men behind them brought them to a halt.
'Turn around.' One of them said, so they did.
Suddenly a pair of big hands touched his shoulders. Morse flinched, mainly because he didn't know what these guys were up to.
'Sit,' another voice he assumed was his brother Peter Matthews. A pair of hands pushed him to the ground, he felt a chair underneath him and sat down. At this point the only smart thing was to tag along. Figure out a plan to escape and strike at the right moment. Morse hoped dearly one of them removed the thing covering his eyes, otherwise every action would be futile.
'Put your hands behind the chair,' Cole said with a heavy voice. 'And don't think of anything funny, there is a gun pointing at you from the other side of the room.'
Obediently he did so. Damned he was so powerless with this blindfold on. An anxious feeling crawled at the back of his mind when he felt a rope around his wrists. He swallowed. Suddenly he heard a light sob from his left. Joan.
'Joan, are you ok?' Out of nowhere Peter grabbed him by his auburn locks and jerked his head roughly backwards. A tear stung in his eyes because of the sudden impact.
'There will be no talking whatsoever! If I hear or see anything of that matter. I assure you, I can kill you with this gun. But I can also badly hurt you if I wish.' The clicking of a loaded gun had never sounded so loud. Peter or Tom, Endeavor didn't know which, thankfully let go of his hair and instead reached for the blindfold. He took it off and the sudden strike of light stung in his blue eyes. A tear escaped. Morse hoped they didn't see that otherwise it would be so humiliating.
The man who he had fought with in the car, stood before his him. 'So no talking! You hear me?'
'Lets see a shot to the knee isn't deadly now is it?' He grinned intimidating. 'It's rather painful though, not to mention that you can never use that leg again I suppose, or a shot in the hand or your tiny toes wouldn't risk your life, right?' He mocked.
Morse looked at him and was shot by the realization that they were at the mercy of this man, this evil bastard who had no respect for the lives of others. Who did as he wished because no one could stop him doing so.
He literary had his and Joan's life in his bare hands. They were powerless. He panicked a little. No he had to do something. Come on Morse use your mind. He had to get Joan out of here, get her to safety. That's what mattered. He only had to figure out how.