I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Colin Dexter, neither in Morse or Endeavour. This fanfiction, will be only slightly cannon, with lots of AU. But also there will be some original characters to make things interesting. Anyways, I hope you enjoy. If you feel like it, please review otherwise, I hope you enjoy my story.

DI Martin Tate stood there trying very hard not to laugh at the recently arrested DC Morse. He had sat at county for five weeks while the murder of Chief Constable Standish was investigated. While Morse and his career were both curious, what was occurring right at that very moment was particularly amusing. Although, what had preceded it was not….

It had started out innocently and annoying enough. Martin was drumming his fingers on a table listening to some poor constable try to deal with a singularly irate young woman. She was actually trying to see the young Morse in question, but due to his crime, he was not permitted visitation just yet. She was not backing down in the least. Martin was just about to get up and deal with her person when the door to the cell block burst open and about fifteen armed prisoners emerged from below. And unfortunately one of them was quick enough to grab the girl.

The prisoners were holding guns, surrounding the officers in the room. Martin stared trying to figure out how the hell this happened and what to do about it. He was a little scared if he had to admit it. The other officers were scared too, but trying to keep order, most of them. There was actually one blubbering under his desk. That was when he saw it, a young gaunt man walking up behind the group, he stood to the side taking in everything. His eyes went straight to the young woman, they widened; he started looking around.

"Oi!" he raised his head up, and without much difficulty he managed to look completely nonthreatening. Not that Martin had thought the handful of times he had seen him that he ever was. Truth be told, he had a little bit of trouble believing that he did in fact kill Standish.

"What the hell are you doing?" He just shrugged. He handed Morse a pistol and waved him over. Martin watched him weigh the pistol, and have a look around.

"Hey, stork." Morse turned with a raised eyebrow. "What you in for?" He bristled for a moment.

"Murder, and yourself." Morse was still looking around.

"Rape." Tate saw Morse go livid and shook his head at the young man. Morse blinked and nodded. Tate was sure right there and then, whatever else he was Morse was a copper. Especially as his focus kept drifting to the hostage.

"What exactly would the plan be in this situation?" Morse asked the man holding the girl. "Forgive me but we are in a police station, at any moment there are bound to be officers coming in for shift change, or at the very least some kind of request, not to mention members of the public with some kind of complaint." He continued to step slightly closer to the man keeping an eye on the girl. "How exactly are we supposed to leave?"

"All right there genius, how do you propose we do it?" Morse turned to the man and blinked.

"Figures…." Before the man turned around Morse began speaking looking at the phone on the desk.

"We obviously need to contact some getaway vehicles."

"You crazy, these bleedin' coppers will take us out before we can get outside." Morse snorted and looked at him.

"Isn't it obvious, move them to the back, we've the firearms, move them behind the desks and out of the common area and then we have open view of the door and them."

Tate was listening, he saw DI Lawrence Carson turn to him looking between he and Morse. It occurred to both of them what he was doing. He was giving the officers cover in case they started firing.

"Wait just a moment…." Carson looked up and Tate breathed. Morse turned and appraised the man who was speaking to him. He was tall, a good two inches over Morse, thin like him, although he carried himself better. Whereas Morse had the tendency to come off as an underfed schoolboy, this young man came off as aristocratic. Morse waited patiently for him to speak, the man who looked only a couple years older lest he missed his guess, appraised him as well.

"Do you mind if I make a call?" Morse blinked. "Your suggestion of making a getaway, has merit, but you are lacking the transportation, something I can provide. And since you are the only beacon of intelligence in the group of cretins, might I suggest we familiarize ourselves and work together?" Morse breathed.

"You use that phone, I'll use this one."

"Blake Euland." Morse shook his hand. He swallowed.

"Morse," he sighed, "Endeavour Morse." Blake's eyebrows raised.

"Quaker?" Morse nodded.

"Mother was, father was fond of Captain Cook." Morse replies carefully.

"Hmmm… Interesting." Blake moved to the phone and Morse moved to the other. Carson stared at the number Morse was dialing. Morse kept an eye on the criminals and the girl, but also the tall young man.

"Jakes mate, how are you?" Morse was getting nervous, he turned at a light snapping. The man was older, definitely a DI, slightly scruffy around the chin, otherwise appropriately dressed. He looked at him and rolled his hand. Morse nodded understanding.

Jakes was agitated, he kept turning back to look at the empty desk, where the annoying Morse had once sat. It made him mad, not having him here, he belonged here… more than he did. His phone rang.

"Sergeant Jakes," he blinked, was he seriously hearing this right now. "Morse?"

"Yeah, it's me, we have a bit of a breakout situation and I need a lift." Jakes blinked. Did he just….

"Wait, there's a breakout at county?"

"Yeah I know, it's a little unexpected and last minute, but surely you can do a bloke a favor?" Morse was starting to get antsy. "Are you drunk or something?" he asked Jakes quietly.

"No." He saw the officer in front of him tense up and turned, he jumped and was grabbed by the man, Blake. He took the phone from Morse.

"Hello, don't bother coming, your friend has a ride, although doesn't sound like you're particularly interested in helping him anyways."

"Morse? Who the hell is this?" Blake quirked his head at Morse who was staring at the hand just below his shoulder. He swallowed as he heard Jakes yell his name again. Blake hung up the phone and pulled him up. Morse once standing stepped back, but Blake did not let go. Blake smiled, and pulled him over a little before letting him go. His hands went behind his back, a sign of private schooling.

"Don't want you getting pulled over the desk now do we?" Morse looked at him, and then looked at the other criminals who were mostly ignoring them. He turned to Blake.

"Thank you."

"You're a copper." Morse's head raised up and looked at him.

"What makes you think that?" Morse asked, although he sounded more curious than argumentative. Blake smiled.

"Your friend called you Morse, last name, few friends do that, but plenty of work colleagues, and you don't have the look of a criminal about you." Blake smirked, "not to mention that was some shoddy code work. Not that bright, is he, your colleague?"

"Why aren't you turning me in?" Morse stood and Blake grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his back. Morse breathed in but kept quiet as Blake pulled him close.

"I think it will be more fun to play with you a little." Morse stared straight ahead, while Blake twisted his wrist.

"You're not well trained are you?" Morse flinched. Morse took deep even breaths in preparation. "If you answer my question, I might not." Morse straightened up as best he could and closed his eyes. Tate flinched as he heard the sickening crack, Morse leaned forward slightly breathing deeply.

"Oh ho," Blake chuckled, "a high pain tolerance, yes, you are sport. Tell me, how many bullies have you had, being slight of build I find it hard to believe you had any kind of shortage of antagonists. Not to mention being quiet as you are, I can only imagine," Morse bit his lips as Blake gave twist of his wrist. "Exactly how far some of them got." He was leaning by Morse's ear and checking back every so often to ascertain as to whether or not they were noticed.

"You would know." He flinched as his wrist was jerked back.

"What?"

Tate stared at him, he needed to shut up, but he had a distinct feeling that was not Morse's strong point, making him wonder exactly what had happened to land him in this position. Carson was edgy, he wanted action, and it didn't take a genius to figure out where this was going.

"What did you say?"

"You're a bully Euland, but let's face it, you're worse than the average bully. Do you know why?" Blake let go of his wrist and grabbed his arms right above the elbows.

"You couldn't take it, you got picked on and you couldn't handle it, so you built up some muscle, and you learned how to dish it out, but instead of using it to defend yourself or protect others, you chose to bully them just as you had been." Morse swallowed back something, a scream, pain, Tate didn't know, but he desperately just wanted him to shut up. "But it didn't work, because instead of them seeing you as an equal, they saw you as violent, as a monster, because you took it too far. You have no friends, just allies, and you never will until you stop trying to be what you're not." Morse winced as he was jerked back against Blake.

"And you Morse, where are your comrades? You're here, and I don't see them trying to defend you, not even those officers over there, who you've strategically positioned to give cover to. Not one of them speaks up to defend you, because you are lower, they fear you because they don't understand you, and they hate you because you are smarter than they ever thought of being." He squeezed and Morse winced. "So tell me, who is being someone they're not? You standing there pretending to be a police officer, or me, the one in control?" Morse suddenly smiled.

"I am a police officer, and you are not in control. Number one I am Detective Constable Morse. Number two, my friends, are here, and number three you forgot something." Blake swung him around and Morse held up both his hands. Blake Euland's eyes widened.

"Where's the pistol?" When Euland looked up a slightly muscular officer with a prominent brow held the pistol up and had it aimed at him. At that moment the front door burst open and several officers barged in, all from Cowley station.

Morse carefully walked around the criminals who were focused turning between the officers.

"Miss Thursday." Joan and the man holding her turned, he nodded at her and she turned away. Morse elbowed the man in the nose and pulled Joan toward him hitting the wall.

"Jakes!" Morse saw the gun raise up and shoved Joan out of the way, two shots made their way into Morse who fell dazed against the wall. Jakes was frozen, there was a scream as Joan Thursday turned and saw the red blossoming on Morse's shirt. There was another gunshot, the man who shot Morse fell. One bullet from Strange, one from Carson, who began rushing forward to check on the young DC.

Morse heard crying, who though, he felt like he was under water, until a flash of white hot pain brought him back to clarity. He cried out and looked down, a trench coat was pushed onto his wounds.

"Easy Lad, easy, you'll be all right." That's when he became aware the crying was from Miss Thursday.

"Joan, Joan are you hurt?" she turned to him.

"Morse? You, you called me…."

"I am sorry Miss Thursday, wildly inappropriate. Are you hurt?"

"No, and no, it is Joan, you can call me that, really." The scruffy faced officer directed her to push on the wound and she did so. He cried out again.

"Morse, Morse, you have to stay awake okay, stay with us here, help is on the way." One of the criminals tried to break free.

"Keep him talking." The scruffy man, who was in fact DI Martin Tate turned to assist.

"Morse, oh God Morse please…." She pushed. He looked at her.

"Joan." Her head shot up to look at him.

"The…." He hissed in pain and closed his eyes, then opened them again. "The fountains mingle with the river, and the rivers with the ocean. The winds of heaven mix forever with a sweet emotion. Nothing in the world is single all things by a law divine in another's being mingle, why not I with thine? See the mountains kiss high heaven and the waves clasp one another. No sister flower could be forgiven if it disdained its brother. And the sunlight clasps the earth and the moonbeams kiss the sea, what are all these kissings worth if thou kiss not me?" Joan stared at him.

"That was…."

"Shelley. Love's philosophy." He said smiling he looked up at her. "I suddenly realized as much of a classicist as I am I have yet to read a line of poetry to you, how disreputable of me."

"Actually, I was going to say it was beautiful, and you're the first one to read poetry to me, so your reputation is safe with me." Morse chuckled and then winced. "Actually, I have a secret about my reading of poetry." Joan looked at him curiously.

"What kind?" she waited patiently as Morse winced and swallowed.

"I didn't get along with my stepmother, actually, we still hate each other, and she hates poetry. So I read it intentionally to annoy her." Morse watched as Joan started shaking with laughter. Morse painfully quirked his head.

"Oh my god, you're, you're a poetry reading rebel." Joan laughed. "And here I thought you were a polite proper gentleman, just wait till I tell my dad."

"Your father, how is he?" Guilt suddenly consumed him, in the heat of the moment he had put the fact that his superior had been shot behind him.

"He's stable, he wasn't awake yet when I came here, but he's going to make a full recovery."

"Why, why are you here then?" Morse asked confused. Joan smiled softly.

"For you, someone had to come and check on you." She chuckled. "Besides, Dad will be furious and asking for you, and we'll all hear it if nobody knows how you are." Morse smiled, and then he started drifting off.

"Morse, Morse, wait, stay with me, please?"

"Endeavour." She looked at him. "I don't think I ever told you my first name."

"Endeavour?" she stared at him, and wrinkled her nose. "I don't like it." Morse roughly shrugged.

"Neither do I," he sighed.

"Dev." He looked at her.

"Dev?" she nodded. "I don't think anyone has ever called me that before."

"Good." She said smiling and continuing to apply pressure. "It's really important that I be a first for something with you. And who knows, maybe it'll bring you around to a more hip way of thinking."

"Hip?" he winced as she pushed some more.

"Yeah, hip."

"That'll be a first." Morse guffawed.

"Look, another one, we're on a roll." Joan said smiling.

"We?" he asked. "What are we?" Joan bit her lip thoughtful.

"I don't know yet, but I'm really looking forward to finding out, I mean, you're nothing like my other boyfriends, you're completely different." She smiled again, much as Morse didn't want to, he was beginning to like seeing that smile.

"I like that."

"About bloody time!" Some men showed up with a gurney and Morse was heaved up and headed for the ambulance.

"Joan?" he asked.

"Morse, I'll be at the hospital soon, I promise!"

"Hold up!" Joan was pulled along as Morse was being loaded. DI Lawrence Carson, the man who shot the shooter, thrust Joan at the ambulance. "Have her looked at will you?" Joan was pulled up and her hand wound its way into Morse's.