Title: Fate

Author: TartanLioness

Summary: The war is over and Sam finally decides to tell Foyle the truth about her feelings for him. ANGST.

It has not been easy to decide to finally tell him the truth, but once the decision is made Sam is almost excited. She hasn't seen him or any of her friends from Hastings for a year, as she has spent the time looking after her mother in Lyminster. It was a promise she made to herself after an incident during the war; that she would take better care of her mother and spend some time at home if they all made it out alive. And they have.

But now she's back in Hastings and quietly sipping tea with Mr Foyle in his lounge. She's happy to be back, to be in his presence again. It fills her with a strange kind of calm, and for some reason she is suddenly not at all worried about telling him of her feelings. She knows he'll have worries, but she has arguments ready to convince him of her love and that the past or his age don't matter.

Then everything turns horrible. She has calmly told him that she loves him and she is not worried because he doesn't instantly break into a smile and profess his undying love to her; Foyle is not that kind of person. He is too sensible for that. And perhaps too insecure.

Sam isn't worried until he takes her hands and looks intently at her. In his blue eyes, she can sense a great deal of sadness and she feels hope leaving her like air out of a balloon.

"I'm sorry," he says and a lump forms in her throat. "I'm so sorry you have to feel this way. I care about you very much, but I do not love you."

Sam has prepared herself for many things, but not this. Perhaps she has been too scared to even think about it. As it is, she pulls her hands away from his, unable to bear his touch, and she lowers her eyes, unwilling to let him see her tears. Her entire body screams and she feels an unworthy urge to beg him for his love.

It takes all her willpower to refrain, and instead she rises from her chair, telling him to think no more of it. She hears him saying her name as she walks out of the room, but she feels like she has a hole in her stomach and she can't stand to stay there another moment. Grabbing her coat, she nearly runs out of the house, not caring what people on the street are thinking about the tears spilling down her cheeks. She hates herself for thinking he might return her feelings and for taking a chance. If she hadn't, she might still have had his friendship. As it is, she doesn't think she can ever bear to see him again.

In the house, Foyle nurses a tumbler of whiskey. He knows that had the only issue been his age and the fact that she once walked out with his son, Sam would have been able to convince him. He would have told her of his feelings but also of his misgivings and anxieties and she would have made it all right. She would have told him she didn't care, told him that all that mattered was their love and that she would rather have ten years with him than fifty with any other man. And he would have let her convince him, because he would be giving them both a chance at happiness.

But three months earlier, he discovered the one reason not to let her convince him that he could not ignore. And now all he feels is bitterness at the way God plays with his children's happiness.

Foyle's head hurts, but he hardly notices it. It hurts all the time now, that's why he went to the doctor in the first place. He gulps down his whiskey and hates fate for its carelessness. His head aches and he curses the tumour that has effectively made an end to all his dreams of a future with Sam.

He would have let her convince him to give her ten years. He can't let her convince him to give her his last three months. It would hurt her too much.

THE END

A/N: yeah, get me, sprouting out short one-shots tonight. One good thing about being ill, I guess. Sorry for the angst, but I am writing a somewhat longer fic and I just got stuck. Then I thought of this and figured, why not. Hope you enjoyed. Maybe I should have given a tissue warning xD