The things left behind

by MasterXO159

Summary:

Fred Thursday is visited by three spectral figures—each revealing a reckoning he cannot escape. As past betrayals, present anguish, and future tragedy unfold, Thursday must confront the choices that haunt him most. In the darkness, only truth remains.

Notes:

So, before I start, I have to Say (that):
The story is set post season 9(almost imediately after).
Thursday has to deal with his mistakes in Dickensian style.
Thank you for reading. Comments, thoughts, and interpretations are warmly welcome.(But I don't do collaborations or comic books).
Happy Reading!

Chapter 1: The Ghost of the Past

Chapter 1

 

It was a very warm summer night. A hot wind was blowing and it was making plants feel burned. The sky had become a dark blue, almost like black, and the stars looked like small diamonds on this large dark velvet. In the town of Carshall Newtown, when the time reached night, people of all ages left their houses. Some went to parties, some to clubs, some to restaurants, and others simply walked on the street under the stars.

 

There was one calm street where houses looked almost the same. Each house was painted white and had two floors. Every house had a wooden fence painted dark brown. A few fences were bright because inside the house lights were on; but other houses were in full dark because no light was on inside. At number eighteen of these houses was the home of the Thursday family.

 

Fred Thursday was the father. He used to be chief inspector at Cowley station in Oxford but now he is commissioner at Carshall Newtown police. He was preparing to sleep. He hoped for a good rest after a very tiring trip, after many stressful events… after the last case with his former sergeant Morse, and also after the final investigation at Bleinheim Vale. While he was shaving, he could not stop thinking about his last meeting with Morse. He remembered how he had broken the poor boy’s heart. He remembered Morse’s sad eyes, those blue turned turqoise eyes, so full of tears, almost begging, but he was controlling them very well.

 

Fred sighed. He felt sorry for his former sergeant, but he believed moving from Oxford was good for everyone: his wife, Sam, Joan, Jim, himself and Morse.....Right? He repeated in his mind many times that he did the right thing, like a mantra.

 

The bathroom was small but in tidy order. The walls had light cream tiles, each square reflecting the yellow light of an old brass lamp on the mirror. The sink was white porcelain, very clean. On a small glass shelf there were the tools for shaving: a metal razor, a brush with soft hair, and a bowl with foam soap. When Fred turned off the water tap, drops of water still fell slowly from the faucet.

 

Fred looked at himself in the mirror but he did not want to see his reflection. The man in the mirror had grey hair at the temples and lines around his eyes, but the person in them seemed almost as a stranger to him and the one he felt like he hated the most.

 

From the door came a voice. 

Winifred: Fred?

Fred( softly): Yes, Win?

 

His wife Winifred stood by the door. She was wearing a pale yellow nightshirt and soft house slippers. Over that she had a light robe, old but comfortable. With one hand she held the robe closed. Her hair was loose in soft waves around her shoulders.

 

Win( Voice laced with worry): Are you okay?

 

Fred: Yes, Win. Don’t worry. I will come soon.

 

Winifred did not say anything else. She turned and left the bathroom quietly. Fred finished his shaving and washed his face. He put the razor and brush back on the shelf.

 

He walked through a narrow hallway with wooden panels and a soft carpet that did not make noise. On the walls there were family pictures. One picture showed Winifred and Fred on their wedding day, both smiling. Another picture showed their children, Sam and Joan, when they were little, laughing and playing. There was also a photo of Fred receiving his George medal in 1967. The hallway smelled like lavender from a room spray that Winifred liked.

 

At the end of the hall was their bedroom. The door was open, and light spilled into the hallway. Inside, Winifred was already in bed, under a blanket. The bed was a large wooden four-poster. The wood was dark and carved with small flowers on each post. The curtains around the bed were deep blue velvet with gold cords holding them back.

 

The bed looked very comfortable. The sheets were white cotton, soft, and the quilt was thick and warm with silver embroidery. There were three pillows: two big ones filled with soft feathers and a smaller decorative one made of shiny gold fabric. Winifred had turned down the corner of the quilt to make space for him.

 

Fred went to the wardrobe and changed his clothes. He took a white pajama shirt with small round buttons and matching pants. The pajamas were light and cool. He put on dark blue slippers whose soles were worn by many nights of use.

 

Then he got into bed next to Winifred. She moved closer and pulled the quilt up to Fred’s chin. She gently touched his hair as she always did. Fred felt calm when she was near.

 

Outside, the wind moved the leaves of the tall trees in front of the house. The open window let in the smell of fresh grass. The streetlamp light moved on the wall as branches fell on it. In the distance, Fred could hear quiet laughter and soft music from a neighbor’s party. It reminded him that life was still going on.

 

Inside their bedroom it was very quiet. Only the clock on the wall ticked steadily. The walls were painted a soft gray color. On the nightstands, small photo frames showed more memories: the children’s school graduation, a holiday in the mountains, a small black and white photo of Fred’s first day as a policeman.

 

Winifred’s breathing became soft and even. She was falling asleep fast. Fred stayed awake for a moment, listening to the rhythm of his heart and the sounds of the night beyond the window.

 

A cold breeze brushed his cheek. The window was slightly open. Fred reached out and closed it properly, then lay back on his pillow.

 

His mind returned to Morse. He remembered Morse’s hopeful face, the unasked questions that stayed in his eyes. He kept telling himself it was necessary, for both of them. But that word “necessary” sounded harsh in the stillness of the night. But it really was ,,necesarry" for both of them? In his mind, Fred still could picture images from the last case he solved as an Oxford police officer: the station house, the photographs with Andrew Lewis and Mickey Flood dead bodies; with The big holes digged at Bleinheim Vale, revealing secreta buried a long time ago; Morse's expression when Thursday returned that bloody night home and scowlded the Detective Sergeant, nearly bringing him in the verge of tears ...or when he confessed his crime to Morse..those blue eyes, full of seriousness, coldness, intelligence, turned turqoise, full of sorrow, regret, tears...or when he left after that last meeting, not watching after his shoulder,but feeling the blond Young Man watching him dissapear in distance until he couldn't see the inspector any longer.Thursday hated himself for abandoning Morse, for leaving him behind, Alone... But what could he do? The motorcyclists were a Danger for everyone..and If he remained in Oxford, everybody he loved would have payed for his mistake. And he couldn't take Morse with him, right?

A whisper: Or You didn't want to take him with You.

Thursday froze, his dark eyes widening. He scanned the room with his eyes. His wife was fast asleep next to him, oblivous to any sounds. He thought that it can't be her the one who whispered. But who whispered then?

The house grew colder, as if the night itself entered the room. Under the thick blanket they were safe and warm, but around them was a darkness that watched silently.

In a dark corner of the room, near the closed door, Thursday saw very clearly a shadow. A tall, lean shadow, watching him.

Thursday( whisper): Who..who are You?

       The figure emerged with slow steps from its hidding spot, revealing itself. It looked like a Man, a Young one, in his 30s, with Brown , dishelved hair, falling on his forehead. The moon Light reflected in his Green eyes , the dark bags under his eyes and showed his pale skin. His clothes, the Brown two piece suit, the white Button up shirt , the black tie, the Oxford shoes and suspenders, looked very familiar, but they were crumpled like they were never ironed.When it fully emerged from the shadow, Thursday nearly jumped out of his skin.

Thursday: Jakes, what are You doing here? How...how are You here? You..You are in America!

Peter( looking straight at the old inspector) : But I am not Peter Jakes You knew. I am the Ghost of the Past.

Thursday(eyes still wide): What..do You want from me?

Peter: I want to make You to understand...that your past actions caused only sufference and pain, that they shaped everything You see and have now, even Your relationships.I'll show You.

Thursday( frowning): Show me what? This îs not a funny joke. And If You don't leave my house in the next minute, I'll arest You.

Peter( raising lazily a hand and pointing a thin index finger): I'll show You your past and your actions, everything You did and broke everything around you.. how You pushed aside the loved ones, in a way or Another, temporary or permanently: your wife, your daughter, your son and Morse.

        Before Thursday could open his mouth to respond, Jakes snapped his right hand's fingers and the room was enfulged in total Darkness, only the old man and the Ghost visible in that void.

Thursday( now sitting on his feet, a few feet away from Peter): What the bloody hell have You done? Where are we?

         Peter said nothing, but instead, he pointed behind Thursday. The old Inspector looked back and froze, his lips Slightly parted.

         They were no longer in the void, but on a street. The Street was Empty, cracked in a few small places, the dim Light of the lightining poles falling in yellow-orange rays on it. The Sky was dark, covered in dark Grey clouds that cried with big, cold rain drops. Some of them fell on Thursday and made him shiver a bit. Old buildings, including one with The lights on, bordered the Street.

Thursday( turning to Jakes): Where are we?

Jakes(pointing at a silouette approaching and at the building with lights on): Look.

        From a far End of the Street, a thin silouette walked, the steps making the water poodles splash under.

       He took a better look at it and could distinguish the thin ,Young Man in his 30s, with Ginger-coppery hair damped against the forehead, navy two piece suit, Button up shirt, tie, long trench coat and black Oxford shoes. Thursday would have recognised it anywhere, anytime: Morse.

   Thursday( to Peter): When and where are we?

    Peter(pointing to the scene unfolding in front of there eyes, Voice cold and serious): Take a better look.

        Morse walked casually on the Street and stopped in the front of the illuminated building, taking a look. Thursday approached and looked where his ex-bagman did.

       Inside the building, which was a bar, Thursday saw himself, DI Ronnie Box, DS Jago and another few men gathered at a big table, with food, pints of beer, all joking and laughing like good old friends. Thursday took a few steps back, his gaze moving from Morse to the Ghost.

Peter: Do You remember now?

Thursday ( regret crossing him in that moment): I..I do.

Jakes: You laughed with The enemy. You betrayed your friends, your true friends for those bastards.(Pause). You forgot who You truly were and You forgot about Morse.

            Morse looked through the window, then walked away, raising the collar of his navy blue trench coat , hands in pockets, walking away and dissapearing in the rain.

        Thursday said nothing, but the guilt started to eat him.

          The scene in front of their eyes faded slowly and transformed. The once dark scene shifted.

         They were on an open area, mostly around the edges of Oxford. Tall, leavesless trees appeared from spot to spot, while the Sky shifted to a Light, icey blue, covered in Light Grey clouds. The rain morphed in cold, bitting Thursday's skin through his white pijama set. The alley was paveted, edged by a short stone fence. Layed on the ground was the dead body of a blond Young woman around her early 20s.

          There, Thursday could saw himself, Morse, Jim Strange and Dr. Max DeBryn; the three police officers were a few steps back, while DeBryn kneeled and checking the body.

Thursday:Doctor?

DeBryn:Time of death between eight to 12 hours.At first glance, cause of death would appear to be asphyxia by means of manual strangulation.

Thursday:Not like the last one, then?

DeBryn:Well... No blood.

Thursday:No blood-drinking.That's something, isn't it?I mean, that, that's something?

Morse(Hesitant):Let's not.

Thursday:How's that?Let's not what?

Morse: It doesn't matter.

Thursday:Oh, it doesn't matter.Let's not what?

Morse:Well, let's not clutch at straws to save our blushes.Three women, one man.It's the same killer for all.Whoever killed Molly Andrews killed this young woman.

Thursday:Oh, yeah?You'd like that to be true, wouldn't you?Show me up, "The old man's losing his touch"-- that it?

Morse:What...I didn't, I didn't say that.

Thursday: You don't need to.But before you get all high and mighty, let's not forget you had all this down for Naomi Kane's killer.

Morse:Yes, I know.But if we're being honest about it, it comes to something like this, you've never really had that much touch to lose, have you?Well, it's true.

Thursday:This is what I get, is it?I've stuck my neck out for you more than you know.

Morse:Yes, of course you have.Who wouldn't?I mean, bank robberies, car thieves, yeah, there's no one better.But something that demands a little bit of intellect, or a little bit of finesse, then...

Thursday:Arrogant, conceited... 

DeBryn:Gentlemen!You will conduct yourselves with decorum and the solemnity appropriate to this situation, or you will find some other place to stand!You want to carry on like that, you find yourself another pathologist.Am I understood?

Thursday:Max, I'm sorry I... 

DeBryn: Am I understood?Then we shall say 2:00.

Strange: That's the face we want to show the world now, is it?Washing out our dirty smalls in front of respected friends and colleagues?God almighty, what's the matter with you?

           Morse looked to the ground, while Thursday couldn't look anymore at his bagman.

          The real Thursday turned back to Peter.

Thursday (to Peter): Why do You show me this? He was wrong and insolent! I had to remember where his place is.

Peter: And what about the cost? You were right, but the relationship between You two broke bad then....and continued to break, slowly, painfully,...silently.

Thursday: What do You mean? After that, we were like before.

Peter: Really? Because I don't agree with that.

          The scene in front of them blured and faded slowly, leaving place for another. This time, they went into a home; a warm, welcomed, very familiar home, with Light coloured walls and smell of food lingered in the Air; it was Thursday's Oxford residence before he moved in Carshall Newtown.

Thursday( confused now): Why are we here? This is not my house anymore.

Peter( slighlty furrowing): Just look.

         The door bell ringed loudly and Joan Thursday passed from the kitchen to there to open it. In front of it stood Morse, dressed in his navy blue suit and white Button up shirt.

Joan: Morse.

Morse:Miss Thursday.

Joan:Dad's out-- sorry.

Morse:About the other night, I got delayed, I'm sorry... 

Joan:Don't worry, just, doesn't matter.

Morse:Well, I...

Joan:It wasn't important.

Win( coming from the kitchen): Evening, Morse.Late for You!

Joan:He's here to see Dad.

Win( moving from the dining room to kitchen):All wedding right now. Between that and Carshall, I don't know whether I'm coming or going.Don't suppose you do, either, everyone off and leaving you.Fred, and now Jim.

Morse stays in the dining room's door, while Win and Joan are in the kitchen, preparing tea and food.

Morse: Well, people move on.Just the way of the world, isn't it?You've found a place in Carshall?

Win:Didn't Fred tell you?

       On the door front, the keys Rattle.

 Win: Oh, that'll be him now.

Fred(door closes): Else Sam.

Win:(calling): Fred?

Thursday :Yeah.

Win:Morse is here.

Thursday: At this time?(Turning to Morse)Well, what couldn't wait till the morning?

Morse: Uh...I'll, uh...I'll leave you to it.I, um...

I was turning through the "Oxford Mail" and, and found a letter by McMurdo.

Thursday:You came all the way over here to tell me that?

Morse:Well, I thought it might have a bearing.

Dr. Bevin also had a letter published in the "Mail."

Win:(chuckling,pouring tea in cups): Letters to the "Mail," Christ Almighty.

Thursday: Don't you ever take a night off?

Morse:Well, I thought it was important.I thought you'd want to know.

Thursday:Well, I don't!Not tonight!You want to tell me something out of hours, why don't you pick up the bloody phone like a normal person?

Some of us have got a proper home life!

          Morse pressed himself lightly against the wall behind him, trying to hold back his tears. He knew Thursday could be hrash sometimes, but with him? And why? He looked to the ceiling, then back to the old man.  

           Joan was in the kitchen door, eavesdropping, her eyes wider and lips Slightly apart.

Thursday:And don't bother picking me up in the morning, I'll make my own way in.

         Morse lowered his Head, his blue eyes glassy, then looked back at his boss.

Morse(exhales): Right.(quietly): I just came to see if you were all right after this morning, that's all.

Thursday (quietly): I'm fine!

           Morse turned left and went straight to the front door. He paused mid-open door, looking back at the brunette Young woman with holding two cups of tea. She looked worried ar him, and he opened the door, exited and closed it behind him.

         Regret and sadness shot Thursday's heart. His fists clenched and opened spasmodic, his arms laying beside him.

He took a Deep breath and turned back to the green-eyed detective Sergeant.

Peter: All this moments, all this tension slowly broke your bond. You were blinded by Your traditional thinking, old School methods and your pride. Maybe he wasn't right in Carl Sturgis case, but You had no right to humiliate him like that in front of Your family.

Thursday: I had an awful night and I had all rights to be upset.

Peter: On yourself, but not on Morse. He cared for You more than your own kids did , and yet, You pushed him away, slowly at first, and faster after your transfer was approved.

Thursday: I...I had to! I had to reduce his pain, to make him to not miss me so much!

Peter: You pushed away the only person who would have followed You, the one who came home that night and weren't the captain Morse would've followed into hell.

          Thursday's fists clenched, his hands trembling beside him. Those words were the ones Morse said last time they saw eachother at that pub, when he confessed to Morse the Murder of Peter Williams, when Morse was in the verge of tears, his Voice shaking...he was so vulnerable, and Thursday felt bad.

          And that moment, realising better his mistake, he could feel his eyes getting wet from tears.

Peter: You signed your loneliness and regret with your own hand. You broke Morse with your own hand. And now you'll feel the consequences...

        Slowly, Peter floated backwards in the void, his image slowly fading in the Darkness. Thursday runned to catch him, but he was too slow, and missed, remaining alone with his regret....

          

Chapter 2: The Ghost of the Present

Chapter 2

 

       Thursday's ragged breath was the only sound in that abiss of Darkness. He looked around, but saw nobody. The old inspector punched the Air and cursed under his breath.His white pajamas dripped a Little water from the previous scenes, forming a small pool under his bare feet.

Thursday( muttering): Damned Jakes..He left me here in this bloody darkness with no exit... And he can't be right..I didn't meant to Hurt Morse. I just wanted to temper him and know him safe..with me he would never have been safe. Tomahawk's band friends will come eventually after me. And I don't want him on my conscience.

         He paced back and forth, looking for a way to go back to the calmness and warm of his new home, to the bedroom, in bed with his wife.

        Suddenly, he felt a cold chill down his spine, a small breeze brushing his Grey- and- piper hair. He straightened and turned back.

         This time, a few feet away from him, stood a shorter silouette; younger man, thin, with messy black hair and a Smile spread across his face, despite the situation. The boy wore a two piece navy blue suit, suspenders, polished black shoes, a dark tie and a white Button up shirt. As Thursday approached it, he saw better that the boy, in his early 20s, had small black bags under his Brown playful eyes and a big crimson spot across his chest, spreading from where his heart is..

Thursday: You..You aren't Detective Constable George Fancy, aren't You?

Fancy: Ding, ding, we have a close winner! Yes sir, I'm not George Fancy, but I am the Ghost of the Present!

Thursday(sighs): The Past Ghost already showed me where I was wrong. 

Fancy( cheerful): Yes, but I will show You where ARE You wrong. Now, follow me!

    Thursday exhales so hard that he sounds like a fright train and follows relunctantly the Ghost.

Thursday( under his breath, looking on ground): Bloody thing.. Jakes showed me were I was wrong. But I meant good, so He's not entirely right. I just wanted to teach Morse and...

Fancy: Hey, look!

          The old man couldn't finish his thoughts. He looked up, and saw how the void transformed again in a scene in front of his eyes. The ground turned in a cemented alley, grass on each side of it. A big building, looking like a manor, with a single floor, but made from dark Grey-dirty bricks and a bold Red front door, materialises on one side of the alley. The Light blue Sky above them îs kissed with Orange and Pink big strays as The sun lowers, leaving space for night and moon to come.

    Thursday recognised the house: it was Morse's.

   Thursday( to Fancy): Why are we here?What memory should be this?

Fancy: Well, it's not necesarily a memory. This happened a couple of hours today after You left Morse and went to Carshall. He said he was going to a recital, right?

   Thursday nodded, but he knew..no, he felt that Something wasn't right.

Thursday: And what do You want to show me?

Fancy: Well, look sir. It's starting, like, right now.

         Suddenly, they Heard the sound of an engine. Their heads turned to the source of it, and after a full minute, a sleek black Jaguar Mark 2 appeared. The car parked in front of the house, on the opposite part of the alley from house. 

Thursday: Is that..

Fancy: Come on, go take a look. It won't bite, You know.

             Thursday approached with small steps the black Jaguar. He bent and looked down through the window of the driver seat.

               Morse stood still, his hands gripping the wooden steering wheel with such a force that his knuckles turned white. His Head was slighlty lowered, looking into void through the windscreen. His Ginger-coppery hair was Styled neat, just a few rebelious curled strands falling on his forehead. Also, he was dressed in a black suit, black bow and a white Button up shirt, which confused the old inspector at the begining, but became clear after a couple of minutes: Morse returned from the recital.

               This moment lasted a few minutes in perfect silence, until Morse whispered under his breath Something that Thursday's ears barely Heard.

Morse( whisper): Don't break down, just don't. You can do this.

          Slowly, Morse reached for the handle of car's door. Thursday moved aside, the door opened, Morse emerged, closed it and walked to the house.

Thursday looked back at Fancy, but the brunet Man pointed him to go; so he did. When he reached for the doorknob of the Red front door, his hand passed through it. The inspector grimaced, but Fancy Simply passed through the door; and he followed suit.

They walked down the dark hallway, the walls painted Grey and without photos. The Air felt heavy, closed, a bit damp. On both sides were white, old, wooden doors, the paint on a few of them peeling at the edges.

Thursday( whispering to Fancy): Where are we going?

Fancy: Just follow my lead.

            They walked down until they arrived in the living room. Reddish-orange rays of Light went through the big front window and were bathing the big room, casting long shadow across the desk and the night tables next to the old dark Brown leather sofa. On a chair, rested Morse's black suit jacket and his black bow.

         Morse was standing on his feet in front of the desk,his entire thin body trembling from suppresed emotions. He scanned the objects from his table: the papers,the piles, the framed photos, the support with pens ....until his gaze fell on a framed item. The old inspector approached and took a better look at the frame. It was a postcard from the Thursday family from thier Holiday in Southend-on-Sea from 1966. Half of it was covered by a picture the family members, the other with a short message. Morse took the frame and looked down at the picture: the four members of the family standing on a beach, the calm blue sea behind them, sparkling in some placed from the sun rays. They all looked happy: Thursday, in Bath blue shorts And a white large t-shirt, with one arm drapped over Sam, the other gently placed around Joan and Win; Sam, in Green shorts And a tank top, with his hand behind Joan's hand, making her Rabbit ears; Joan , in a short flowing pink dress and sunglasses on top of her head,was smiling and oblivous to her younger Brother's antics; and Win relaxed, her long large yellow dress slighlty flying in the Marin breeze. The message was short, yet Nice: Have a good summer!(From the inspector and his wife); Relax, Morse! Enjoy the Heat( from Sam and Joan).

         Morse's hands trembled stronger, as he looked at Sam, Win , and Joan and Thursday for a Little longer. The Young Man took a few steps back, hands clenched on the frame.

Morse( in a low Voice, for him): They had no choice.. They had to leave. This is what people do: come and leave, especially leave.

        His Voice cracked a bit at the End of the whisper. He squeezed his eyes shut , but warm tears rolled down his flustered cheeks, rolling down his chin, some falling or running along his jaw line , down to the neck and soaking the collar of his white Button up shirt.

      In a split of a second, he turned to the wall opposite the window and threw the frame at it, the glass shattering against the wall, the rests falling on the floor, the sound echoing in the Empty room. Morse raised his Head and screamed. A heart-shattering, Deep from the soul scream of suppresed pain and sadness over years and years.

Morse( screaming to the ceiling): AAAAAAAAAHHAHHHH!

        His knees buckled and he fell on the floor. He hit the floor with his right fist, sitting with his legs under him.

Morse(still screaming): WHY DID HE LEFT ME? WHY DOES EVERYBODY LEAVES ME? I JUST WANT TO BE LOVED!

         He sobbed so hard that his entire thin body shook. His palms rested on the cold floor, unchlenced.

Morse: I..(Sob) just wanted..(Sob) to be loved..(Sob). I ..(Sob) didn't want to..(Sob) be some very important officer.( Sob) I.. just wanted ..(Sob)...

       The Young Man bursted in tears and uncontrollable sobbing, bringing his knees to his chest, his arms around them and Head hidden in the arms.

       Thursday felt his old heart breaking. Fast, he kneeled to his ex-bagman and tried to hug him, but his arms passed through Morse. A couple of tears rolled freely down inspector's cheeks, but he wipped them quickly with The back of his hand. 

Thursday( to Morse, whispered, Voice a bit cracked): I'm so Sorry Morse. I'm Sorry....God, forgive me for what have I done.. Endeavour...

Fancy( from his place): He can't Hear You.

        The Detective Sergeant's sobbs slowled, but continued. He got up slowly and walked to the place where the postcard fell. With shaking hands, he took it and sat on the floor, his back against the wall, sorrounded by wooden and glass pieces. His eyes were Red and puffy from crying, the irises turqoise instead of their normal blue. He looked one more time at the photo, then ripped it in half, letting the fragments fall on the floor. He exhaled , feeling reliefed after so much Times.

Morse( looking to window, but his gaze met Thursday's, Voice almost a whisper): Why did You leave, sir? Why?

          Thursday, who was on his feet next to the window, felt his soul shattering in a million pieces like broken glass. He turned his gaze to Fancy and tried to keep his composure. Fancy now has his lips' corners slighlty downturned and stood beside Thursday, unusually solemn now, his youthful face void of its earlier mischief.

Thursday: Why..did You show me this?

Fancy( in a calm Voice): You need to understand that your actions have consequences. The past ones are visible in present sometimes, and the present ones will appear in the future...It's just like a domino, sir: a single piece needs to be faltered so the entire line will fall.

Thursday: I didn't know he will suffer after me so much!

Fancy: But he did, sir. He did so much, just like George Fancy loved life. Neither of them deserved their fate, yet here they are, both broken in different ways.

Thursday: I.. meant good! I wanted to protect him!

Fancy: The way to Hell is paveted with good intentions.You didn't protect him. You protected yourself and left him behind to broke. He was the one who sacrificed so much.

Thursday: I'm Sorry!

Fancy: Simple words and excuses won't help him , nor George and the other peoples in the same situation. 

         An ice Silence fell.

          Morse took a cigarette from the packet from his pocket and lighted it. He took a long 

drag and exhaled a thin stream of smoke that curled from his lips, enveloping his face in a thin cloud.

         Thursday And Fancy looked at him.

Morse( in a calm, composed Voice): He left me behind. He threw me away like a rotten tooth. He needed me..but he doesn't need me anymore. All this years...but I don't need him. Not anymore. I'll be on my own, like I was.

 Morse sat still on the cold wooden floor, the dim light from the dying day casting long, lonely shadows across the peeling wallpaper of his flat. His knees were still pulled up to his chest, one arm resting limply on top of them, the other holding a smoldering cigarette between trembling fingers. The bitter scent of tobacco mixed with the faint must of old books and dust—memories held captive in paper and silence. He let the cigarette hang loosely from his fingers, ash trembling at the edge. His head rested back against the wall, and his red, swollen eyes stared blankly at the fading orange outside the window.

         Those words hit the old inspector like a blade stabbing someone.

Fancy: You can't undone what have You done. The only thing You can do is to watch, to be a simple spectator.

           Thursday opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He turned back to look at Morse, who now rested his forehead on his knees again, the cigarette slowly burning between two fingers. Outside, the sky had turned a deeper shade of blue, the first star peeking above the horizon.

Thursday: But I thought he’d grow stronger... I thought leaving would push him forward. I thought—

Fancy (cutting gently but firmly):You thought wrong. That was never the kind of strength he needed. What Morse needed was someone to stay.

            Thursday's shoulder slumped and he looked down. He realised that what he did was wrong..but did he had another way?No, he told himself. He made mistakes , but he was a human ; and humans do mistakes and learn from them. But did he learned? 

Fancy( intrerupting inspector's thoughts): 

We aren’t here to make you feel guilt alone. Guilt’s only good if it pushes change. You still have time, Thursday.Now, I have to leave You in your own sadness to think about your mistakes. But don't get comfortable. You'll get one more visit...that will be the most traumatising. So, brace yourself.

Thursday( confused): Say what?

Fancy: Goodbye, sir! 

       Fancy vanished slowly in the Darkness. Thursday tried to catch him, but his hand passed through the Young Man, he tripped and felt face-first on the ground. 

A moment of silence. Then, from behind him, a sudden gust of icy wind howled through the void, and the sound of a distant clock began to toll. Footsteps, slow, deliberate, approached from the shadows.

       The scene around him vanished slowly,blurred and dissolved into thick darkness once more, leaving place for the final act that will come, the act that will haunt and maybe even Hurt him the most..

Chapter 3: The Ghost of the Future

Chapter 3

 

 The rhytmic sounds of footsteps echoed in the void of Darkness. Thursday grumbled and slowly, got up on his knees, then back on his feet. He looked down at his white pajamas: they were covered in black dust. He tried to dust them of, but froze halfway when he felt a cold chill down his spine. Thursday was damn sure the Air felt heavier, colder, and someone was standing behind him. He didn't want to see who was because he knew..no felt, deep in his soul, that was Something off, but the curiosity got the better of him, so he turned back.

        A few steps away, a tall, thin silouette, draped in a black length floor cape looked at him. Thursday could see the face of it because of the hood , but he could saw what it wore: a two pieces dark navy blue suit, black polished shoes, navy blue button up shirt, a thin navy blue tie and a long dark navy blue trench coat... Thursday found it familiar, yet he couldn't understand why.

          The silouette took a few steps closer, caring a long black schyte in both hands. The blade was curved, long, polished and clean, with a long, black wooden handle with symbols carved on it.

       Thursday's eyes widened and he took a few steps back.

Thursday( terrified): W-who are You?

     The dark silouette said nothing.

Thursday: You....you must be the Ghost of the Future.

    The silouette nodded aprovingly, then took the schyte in one hand and pointed with The free one behind the old inspector with a thin, almost bony finger that ended in a long black nail, small black veins spreading across both hands.  

        Thursday gulped, but turned back.

         In front of both of them started to materialise a flat. It looked a bit more more modern compared to Thursday's present, but wasn't to much Different from the 1970s style he got used to.

          The walls were Light blue, clean, a couple of painting hanged on them. The furniture was simple and made from dark Brown wooden, probably mahon: two small tables,a coffee table, two chairs and coat racket. A pick-up rested on one of the tables, blasting opera by Wagner at full volum; next to it were another vinyl records in a tank: Mozart, Bach, etc. On the coffee table , files, pencils , q bottle of whiskey , an Empty glass and newspapers opened at the crossword section layed discarded on it, a creative organised chaos. The creamy flower patterned sofa was also covered with and old blanket and a couple of newspapers. On the other table, a phone ringed, the sound mixing with The opera and creating a cachophony of sounds.

          Finally, on the corner appeared a dark wodden bookcase filled with books sorted by colour and framed photos; an open door appeared next to the table with The Pick up. A fire place and a clock materialised , finishing the transformation.

Thursday(confused, to the Ghost): Where are we? I never saw this place. And what do You want to show me here?

The Ghost( in a low, haunting Voice): Look.

       From the door came the sound of footsteps approaching and someone grumbling. Not longer after, an old man,a bit rounder, with wet grey-white hair , polished black shoes, black suit trousers, suspenders hanging by his sides ,a blue tank top and a towel on his shoulder entered the room and come straight for the phone. He picked up the handset and answered.

(Voice phone): Hello boss!

The old man: Boss? What the bloody hell..Oh..,Uh,.. where are You? I'll reach You there in three quarters of hour.

        The old man put the handset down and started to dry his hair with The towel.

Thursday( to the Ghost): Who is this Man?

The Ghost: Don't You recognise him?

       The old man put the towel over his shoulder , walked and sat on the couch. He grabbed a newspapers from the coffee table and opened it, two pieces of paper falling from it. The old man was confused and Picked them up from the floor.Thursday approached and looked at them.

          On a half was a picture with The family Thursday at the sea, and the other half was with a short message from the family.

        Thursday froze. He recognised the postcard Morse ripped in half. And he when he saw, he recognised the blue eyes and the intense gaze of the old man: his Detective Sergeant, Morse.

Thursday's eyes widened, his eyebrows arching. He took a few steps back and looked at the Ghost.

Thursday: No..this..he..he's Morse?!

   The Ghost nodded.

Thursday: What year is it? 

The Ghost pointed at a newspaper from the coffee table. Thursday looked at the publication date: 6th June, 1987. 

Thursday: Why now?

             Morse's brows furrowed, eyes squinting at the two pieces of paper. He looked at them in silence,for a few seconds , then his gaze moved to the window across from him, colourful flowers raising behind the glass.

Morse( Voice serious, almost deadpean): That foolish old man. He was so stuck in his small world that he couldn't see what he had done wrong. Hm..I really thought that he could be a father for me, but I was so wrong and so stupid to believe that someone may love me.

       The corners of Thursday's lips parted slighlty , but no words came out. The corners slighlty downturned , the lower lip trembled for a fraction of second.

       Morse took a cigarette from the packet from the table and lit it. He took a long drag and let the smoke sourround him before he took another look at the pieces.

Morse: Why you did left, Thursday? To save me? No. This wasn't the reason. You pretended that this was the reason, but the truth was so different. You were selfish, and never thought about the people around You. You never thought what your wife wants,how your daughter wants to be or how your son really feels. They followed You and your old , traditional, stuck in the past way of thinking, and payed the price: married with someone You don't love, doing a job You don't like and living with someone who never listens to You. I was the only one who wasn't stuck, but the only one who remained Alone. 

      Thursday looked at his ex- bagman, sadness and grief now reflecting in his eyes. He took a few steps away, but the Ghost caught him by the wrist and held him in his place.

The Ghost ( hissing): Watch Until the End.

         Morse took the Lighter from the table, lit it, and slowly, he burned the postcard halfs: first the message, then the photo.

Morse( as he burned the photo): You never loved me, You never apreciated me. I were just a tool, a perfect, bloody brilliant tool that solved everyones problems but not his owns. I'm done. I'm no more the Young fool I were. I'm on my own, like I always was, with nobody helping me. Goodbye, Thursday. I wish You feel what I felt all this years and understand how much pain You caused to the people that love, loved, follow or followed You.

       The papers were consumed by the small flames, blackened, crumbled and transformed in ashes. Morse let the rests fall on the floor, and shut off the Lighter. He took a long drag from the cigarette, sit up, walked away through the door and closed it with a soft click.

            Tears rolled down on inspector's cheeks, but Thursday wiped away the tears with the back of the hand. The room around started to blurr,disolve and twist in Something else. He didn't move, didn't flinch.

            The scene around them shifted to an outside space, with a Light blue, Sunny Sky above. Grass and pavement edging formed under their feet, and a tall, old , yellowish-dirty-sandy building rose from the ground, sorrounding the pavement. This time, Thursday recognised the place: The Exeter College.

Thursday looked at the Ghost, then back at the college alleys. Students dressed in even more modern clothes, holding books and chatting, and Teachers carrying suitcases and wearing robes , walked on the alleys, filling the yard with laughs and sound. On a corner, he saw the door for the telephone booth opened, and Morse talking to phone. This time, he was wearing a simple tweed dark Grey two- pieces suit, polished black shoes,a lavender Button up shirt and a black tie. Thursday walked closer to his ex- bagman and listened to what he said.

Morse(in the phone): Yes, Lewis, Roy Holmes. Bring him in. (gently pulling on the collar of the shirt).Conspiracy to provide the course of justice to start with. I'll call You later.

      Morse put the handset down, closing the call. He bringed his right hand to his chest, to heart's place, and walked slowly away, passing through Thursday.

      He walked slowly, trying to keep his Balance, two teachers passing by him.

Teacher: Drunk.

The other teacher: A bit early in the day.

        Morse struggled to breath, his breath ragged. He slowed down, the pain in his chest rising. He gasped, and but both his hands to his heart. He looked at the Sky, his blue eyes widening. He gasped, and took a few more steps. The world around him spinned, his eyes widened even more, and he collapsed in the grass, clutching his chest.

Thursday ( shocked, horrified): MORSE!

        The students and the teachers nearby and Thursday rushed to his side. He tried to help Morse, but his hands through him. He tried. He so damn tried, but he couldn't do nothing to save Morse and he was angry with himself for being so useless.A student called the ambulance, and soon, it came. The crowd dispersed to make room for the paramedics who took Morse and lifted him on a stretch. 

         Thursday could only stare in shock and horror at the scene in front of his eyes. He was so shocked, in fact, that he didn't observed when the paramedics climbed the stretch in the ambulance and left for the hospital.

          Before he could recover from his shock, the sorroundings shifted, blurred and metamorphosed into a dim-lighted, long , Empty and buried in silence hallway. The walls were white , so the locked metal doors, except for one.

       Thursday looked with glassy eyes at the Ghost, but this indicated to go to the open one. Thursday followed without commenting, his steps slow, his bare feet barely making a sound against the cold white tiles. He could feel his throat tighten and dry. When he arrived at the open door, he saw two men( Detective Sergeant Robert Lewis and Chief Superintendent Jim Strange), each on one side, but both looking at the metallic table on which rested Something covered with a white blanket. One of them was old, fat, a bit short , half bald,half with white hair, a black tie and huge glasses. The black suit was pristine, but the same coloured vest a bit too tight over his big belly. The other Man was younger,leaner, with Brown hair. He dressed too in a black suit, but with a Red tie.They said nothing, but the fatter one walked away, while the younger one approached the table with slow and calm footsteps. Thursday went on the other part of the table.

        Lewis lifted a part of the blanket , revealing Morse's face. He leaned and kissed Morse's forehead , seeing his boss, his friend, his mentor for the last time. 

Lewis(solemn expression, blue eyes glassy, Red and puffy, Voice low,calm but sad): Goodbye, sir.

       Lewis covered Morse's Head with The blanket and walked away, not looking back.

        Thursday's eyes filled with tears, and for the first time , he let them Roll freely down his cheeks. His body trembled, his hands clutching in fists by his side. He sobbed and tried to keep his composure.

 Thursday( whisper-broken voice): Forgive me, Endeavour.

     He looked on the ground, too ashamed to look at his dead Sergeant.

      Everything blurred and dissolved in Darkness, leaving him in that void again. The Ghost approached, the schyte tapping occasionally the ground.

Thursday looked at the Ghost, his eyes glassy, puffy and Red from crying.

Thursday( Voice cracking): I'm Sorry, I'm so Sorry... I did what I thought it's the Best for him , I tried to protect him..

        The silouette raised a thin hand covered in black veins and with fingers ending in black long nails and pulled down the Hood, revealing his face.

      Thursday's eyes widened, and he almost had himself a heart attack. The wavy Ginger-coppery hair , the sharp face, the intense gaze..the same Young Man in his 30s that he knew too well..

Thursday: M-Morse?

         Morse's eyes and lips were Pitch black, while black veins spread across his cheeks and neck.

Morse(cold, serious tone) : I am not Your bagman Endeavour Morse. I am the Ghost of the Future. What did I showed You is the future of the boy You so much pretend to care for. You ruined him, You broke him apart, slowly, painfully. He would have died for You, and You threw him away like he was nothing.

Thursday: I said I'm Sorry! I tried to do what was the Best for him.

Morse( hiting the floor with his schyte, brows furrowing, knuckles turning white from the force of his grip on the schyte): You foolish old man! You still cling to your wrong thinking and give yourself excuses. Don't You see? Everything is your fault! You made him like this; You shaped him like this! 

Thursday wanted to Say Something, but no words came out of his mouth.

Morse: He always was a sufferening being. He needed to be loved, to be appreciated, not Your abandonment, pain and humiliation disguised as ,,tough-love" . You broke Something in him in the day You left him, Something that can't be fixed. You did everybody did: You used him and his brilliant mind, then threw him away like a broken toy! You're not better then the other people, Frederick Albert Thursday.

Thursday sobbed and dropped to his knees, his hands gripping Morse's black cloak.

Thursday: I'm Sorry! I regret everything wrong I did to him, I regret every word and every action! Please, Tell me how can I save him from this horrible destiny! Please!

Morse: You can't do nothing to save him. You did what You did, and now You can't reverse the time. The past doesn't exist anymore; it was consumed and You can't Bring it back, not even what happened a second ago. The future doesn't exist; it's just a projection of our minds and desires. Just the present exists, but even like this, You can't fix You mistakes. You pushed him away too far.

      Thursday muttered Something under his breath and stared at the Ghost. Instead of his grothesque face, now the true Morse looked at Thursday.

Morse( his blue eyes being turqoise, Red and puffy, voice cracked): Why did You leave me, sir?

      Thursday squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his Head.

    Morse's face shifted back to the grothesque appearance and he took the schyte with both of his hands, raising it slowly above. He grinned, revealing from under his black lips jagged teeths.

Morse: Morse paid for Something he didn't do. But now, You're going to pay for your mistakes. This is how You face the consequences of Your actions.

Thursday raised suddenly his Head.

Thursday: Endeavour, no!

The blade fell.

 

 

      

        

 

 

 

         

Chapter 4: Epilogue

Chapter 4

 

      Thursday woke up instantly, nearly falling of his bed. His breath was ragged and his body trembling like a leaf in the wind. Sweat dripped down his wrinkled forehead like small rain tears.He sat up and looked at Win. His wife was sleeping peacefully, curled up next to him, her curls spilled on the pillow, blessfully unaware of everything the inspector experienced. He scanned franatically the room, but saw just the bedroom and the furniture; no void, no Ghost of the Past, no Ghost of the Present, no Ghost of the Future, no blade falling ....and no Morse.

 

Thursday ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, trying to proces everything.

Thursday: God, it was a dream..but it felt so real..

     Win shifted and opened her eyes Slightly, her eyelashes fluttering open, still lying next to him.

Win( half-asleep, muttering): Fred? Love, what happened?

Thursday(lying): Nothing, Win. I..I just woke up..Uh, thirsty. I am going to the kitchen to drink some water and I will be back, okay?

Win: If You Say so..

        Mrs. Thursday closed her eyes and started to drift back to sleep. Inspector Thursday got up from the bed, took his slippers and blue bathrobe and walked away. He walked with fast footsteps, the robe flowing behind him as he descended the stairs.

     When he arrived at the bottom of them, he took left and went straight at the phone that rested on the small black table next to the railings. With shaking hands, Thursday took the handset,Bring it at his right ear and formed a number.

Thursday( nervous, foot tapping the floor): Please, answer...

       The phone beeped...until it stopped, and silence took its place.

Thursday: Hello? Morse, can You Hear me?

    Nobody answered him.

Thursday: You don't need to answer me, but Please, just listen what I have to Say.(Pause, took a Deep breath). Forgive me. I was so wrong, I made so many mistakes and I..I Hurt You. I Hurt You so much and so often and I didn't realised it.. I am so Sorry. I should have never pushed You away, I should have never humiliated You like that. Good, God, I wounded You so bad at our last meeting and I was a fool for not seeing it then.. I did what I thought IT was the best for You, but..it wasn't what You needed. I did what was the Best for..me, and I...I should have take You with me..I...God..(breaking) I AM SORRY! I broke You and I will never forgive myself for this...

Forgive me, Endeavour..

Meanwhile, on the other part of the phone...

When the phone ringed, Morse woke up from his dreams and thoughts. He got up and nearly stumbeled, but walked toward the hall gripping the walls for help. The moonlight rays fall on the hallways floor, casting shadows in some spots and places. The Young Man put the cigarette into the Empty glass from the table and Bring the handset to his ear.

His blue eyes widened when he first Heard his old mentor's Voice speaking. Morse runned a hand through his wavy and dishelved Ginger-coppery hair, wanted to put the handset down; but Something inside him made him stop and listen.

      As Thursday spoke, a single tear runned down on Morse's right flustered cheek, running down his jawline and down his neck.

Morse whipped the trace with The back of his hand and listened to the last words, staring at the Red front door.

Thursday ( through the phone): Forgive me, Endeavour...

      Morse felt sadness rushing down him again, but tried to keep his composure. He wasn't Thursday's bagman anymore; not his lad, not his boy, not his son... Thursday was now just a part of his past: long and painfull.

He wanted to reply back..but he truly wanted? He truly wanted to talk to the Man that lied him so sweet nearly a decade, just to threw him away like a rotten tooth at the End? Did he..did he wanted to have that life again?

Morse( in the handset, his Voice barely a whisper that just him heared): Morse, sir. I am no longer the Endeavour Morse You knew...He died in the day You left me..

      Slowly and gently, he put back the handset. He slumped against the wall until he sat on the cold floor and stared at the ceiling.

Morse( to himself): And I will never fall like this again..

At the Thursday's residence in Carshall Newtown...

    The house was still. Not even the creak of the old floorboards nor the wind brushing against the windowpane. Just the soft tick of the wall clock — like a heartbeat in an empty chest. 

  The call closed.Thursday remained still for a few seconds, then put the handset down. He walked down the kitchen with heavy steps, turned open the sink and splashed water on his face.

Thursday( under his breath): You idiot..You pushed him away and now, He's gone..

      He looked up at the clock on the wall: 00:00. It was midnight, and the next day, he had work to do. With slumped shoulders and defeated, he walked back to stairs,climbed them, entered the bedroom , lied down on the bed and tried to drift back to sleep.

     As his muscles slowly relaxed and his eyes started to close, he saw Something dark on his right sleeve. He squited his eyes to see in that Darkness, taking a better look at it.

On the white pristine sleeve was exactly the same dark, dense, black dust from the void..