Chapter Text
Go after him.
Inspector Thursday watched as Morse tried to convince him (or more likely himself) that he was happy Jakes was leaving. Thursday wasn’t stupid. He’d met lots of different people during his career in the police, not to mention his time in the army. He knew there were people in the world that loved in a way that wasn’t mostly accepted and could get them in trouble with the very laws they worked for.
He’d seen the feelings that had grown up between Jakes and Morse over the past few months. Especially since Blenheim Vale. He could guess something of what had happened back then but didn’t see the point of bringing it up now, especially since Morse was back on the team and he and Jakes were working together so much better. He also knew how much safer it would be for them to be apart. For Peter to leave for his new life in America.
But then he thought about how upset and dismissive Wyn’s parents had been about them getting married. How they’d had to fight to be together. Not to mention how glad he was they’d managed to convince them eventually.
“You could go after him you know,” he said, trying to sound casual.
Morse looked at him, obviously trying to gauge what the Inspector was getting at. For such a smart man he could be rather oblivious Thursday thought. “He does keep you on your toes, and we need all the good sergeants we can get these days.”
Morse continued to stare at him. “He’ll have left by now, won’t he?” he said slowly. Apparently having understood what Thursday wasn’t saying.
“Worth a try,” answered Thursday. “I want to have another look round here anyway, so I’ll call the station when I’m done and get a PC to run me home.”
Morse nodded slowly. “Thank you, Sir,” he said quietly, before hurrying to the Jag, and beginning what felt like far too long a drive into Oxford.
He drove back rather faster than usual, hoping that if any of the officers in traffic spotted him, they would realise he was a fellow officer and not waste his time pulling him over.
The whole way back he was thinking about what Thursday had said. About everything that had happened between him and Peter in the time they’d known each other. About how differently he saw Peter now and how Peter saw him.
How he understood the man behind the front he put on now. And how he thought, hoped, Peter felt the same.
He pulled up outside the pub to see the bus stop empty. He sighed; Peter was gone. It’s for the best he said to himself, as he’d said to himself many times since he’d found out about him leaving. Peter would be better off away from Oxford.
Before he could come any closer to convincing himself however, the pub door opened and Peter sauntered out, carrying his suitcase.
Morse jumped out of the car, then hesitated, staring at Peter.
“Wotcha,” said Peter walking up. He was trying to look confident, but Morse could see the nerves behind the word.
“You didn’t go,” he said, watching Peter hesitate, obviously wondering if he’d done the right thing.
“Nah, figured you lot need a proper Sergeant to keep you in line.”
“What about Hope?” asked Morse.
“I reckon her family were more interested in having a grandkid than a son-in-law. She’ll be alright.” He stopped for a moment. “And she said I was being a fool to myself if I went with her after she saw me saying bye to you.”
“It sounds like she’s smarter than both of us,” smiled Morse.
“You’re not wrong,” answered Peter. “Now, there’s just one problem.”
At Morse’s frown he grinned. “I’ve got nowhere to stay. Gave up the lease on my flat.”
“I’ve got a spare room,” said Morse. “For some reason I struggle to keep a roommate.”
Peter laughed, “can’t think why. I’m sure it’s nothing to do with the opera at three am. You’d better not try that if I’m there.”
“No promises,” Morse smiled back and opened the boot for Peter to put his luggage in. Driving them back to his flat, he couldn’t remember what he’d been so worried about.