It was with a mixed sense of trepidation and Déjà vu that Morse found himself once again lying on an examination bed in a hospital cubicle. When the curtain twitched and the doctor came in, Morse internally groaned. It was the same Doctor that had discharged him not but an hour ago, and when he looked at Morse with raised eyebrows, he knew he was for it this time.

"Don't ask," Morse offered, by way of an explanation.

"Don't tell," the Doctor replied, grimacing.

Morse was once again sent to x-ray, but this time he managed without throwing up. There were no fractures, and as the blow hadn't been as severe this time, it hadn't exacerbated the pre-existing concussion. Morse was lying on the bed with the doctor giving him stiches, when a severe looking Thursday came marching into the cubicle.

"For goodness sake Morse, I leave you alone for all but 5 minutes. I don't know what Jakes was thinking. I've half a mind to take you into protective custody for your own safety," Thursday stormed at a sheepish looking Morse.

The doctor smiled, and Morse realised why he hadn't given him a ticking off – he was obviously depending on the superior officer to do a far better job.

"Well we got him, didn't we Sir? Bright can let the Chief Constable know that he won't be needing that transfer now," Morse suggested innocently, practically batting his eyelashes at Thursday.

"Yes, well that's the only reason I'm not handcuffing you to a hospital bed," Thursday snorted, not fooled by Morse's act for one second. "What's the damage this time Doctor?"

"Again, nothing too serious. No more concussion, just this cut. Some bed rest, then the stitches can be taken out in a few weeks. Perhaps if I give these to you this time they will actually get used? The last one ended up in a bin." The doctor handed Thursday another sick note and a prescription for sleeping pills.

"Don't worry Doctor, I'll see to it," Thursday threatened, shooting a stern look at a now anxious looking Morse.

The Doctor signed the discharge sheets, and Morse hopped down from the bed, only swaying very slightly. Thursday took Morse by both shoulders and marched him down to the pharmacy, pocketing the bottle of pills he was given.

He didn't even bother with the station, he took Morse straight back to the Thursday's house and ordered Morse into pyjamas. He went back to the station for a few hours to sort out the remaining formalities from the case, leaving Win to coo and fuss over Morse. He returned with another suitcase of clothes from Morse's flat, and the case he had left in Jakes' car.

Thursday made Morse stay off work, and at their house, for the full week. He wasn't allowed out of bed, and each night Thursday personally stood over Morse whilst he took the sleeping pill the doctor had provided. Over the weekend, to Morse's utter humiliation, Joan took on the nursing duties. She would bring him his food and sit at the bottom of his bed talking to him, then call her dad every time she caught him out of bed. She seemed to enjoy watching him squirm, but after a few hours he loosened up, beginning to enjoy the company. Sure, he had to endure the good natured jibes from Sam too, but truth be told he enjoyed it. It was nice to fit so effortlessly into a family unit, and he absolutely loved Wins cooking. Thursdays affections towards Morse had gone much further even than the deepest colleague connection, and the bond was becoming ever closer to that of father and son.

Morse put on a satisfying amount of weight, and when the Thursday family GP visited at the end of the week, he was surprised at how well Morse looked, giving the two head injuries within a short space of time. It really did support the notion that affection and good food were just as or even more effective than hospital treatment and medicines.

After his second hospital visit, Morse had rung Frazil from the confines of his bed, giving her the exclusive. The Oxford press, unable to cope with the loss of its editor and the ensuing backlash, had closed down. Dorothea was very happy with this turn of events, as her own publication now received winder interest, and thus a substantial increase in profits. Morse knew he had gained a powerful ally.

When Morse was eventually allowed to return to duty, Bright came strolling down the corridor, and eagerly shook Morse's hand, pumping it up and down whilst exclaiming how lovely it was to see Morse back on his feet. Thursday gave Morse a wry smile from behind Bright's back, knowing that this saving Bright's skin would stand them in very good stead next time either of them messed up or needed a favour.