A/N: This is set during the episode "Enemy Fire". I've not really written a true Sam/Andrew story before (and there is a part of me that can't promise this won't turn into a Sam/Foyle story), but I wanted to explore what may have happened when Andrew went AWOL.
As always, no copyright infringement intended.
Chapter 1
She studied him in the soft light. Having never seen so much of a man, she was curious and found her eyes drawn to the hard lines and sharp curves of his body. His face, still tired looking, was shadowed with stubble. With the jaw relaxed, and softly breathing in and out in early morning sleep, he looked vulnerable and sweet.
Quietly, she pulled the blackout curtain back completely, bathing the room in gold. After yesterday's rain, the day was proving already to be blue and bright. Samantha Stewart had woken early, unfamiliar with sharing a bed. She'd slipped out from under his arm, wrapping herself in her dressing gown, sitting comfortably in the low slung chair by the window. At first, feeling guilty, but then slowly reconciling herself to the fact, she allowed herself to watch him. To relive his body.
Andrew Foyle lay on his stomach, dark head nestled deep into the pillow, sleeping the sleep of an exhausted man. He seemed to melt into the sheets. She didn't dare wake him, knowing sleep would only do him good. Not only had he been flying all hours, but then to never sleep properly because of nightmares and to feel a guilt that nagged away at him constantly…Sam felt her eyes contract in to a frown of concern. We ask so much of them…
She remembered him as he had been when they had first met: Andrew Foyle, new recruit to the RAF in 1940, full of life and cock-sure of his abilities and desirability. His dark hair had this silly habit of flopping across his brow, and she had secretly found him attractive. He was bold and full of himself, and had tried his hand with her within a few minutes of their meeting. Though she had put him in his place quickly enough, Sam had been rather pleased.
What had he said? We have plenty of women drivers in the WAAF…I just didn't expect one to be driving my dad — and such a pretty one at that. Hadn't she tried to look fierce! After that she hadn't thought much about him, only when her boss, DCS Christopher Foyle, looked particularly strained did she think to ask if he'd had news of Andrew.
It seemed misfortune was always to bring them together, Sam mused, sitting back lazily, enjoying the rare bit of sun on her shoulders. When he'd been shot down six months ago, Foyle had asked her to take him out — take his mind off things and feeling down. That had been a disaster; but he'd made up for it well enough.
Much like this time. He'd been a right fool, but he always seemed to be able to find a way to soften her exasperation with him. If only he would think a bit beforehand, he wouldn't be constantly making up for things with her. He was so different from his father in that way; she didn't like to compare them, but she was with Foyle senior more than Andrew, being on the job together, and it was only natural.
The thought of DCS Foyle made Sam sit up. She had a bit of time before going to collect him with the Police issue Wolseley, but she was anxious all the same. He could read her face like a book, and she knew he would be bound to notice something. He was already on her trail, sniffing closer; Andrew hadn't helped by being out of sorts these past few days, which in turn had put her in a sulk. Foyle had noticed right away and had probed gently. It was a warning to Sam that they would have to be careful. Foyle surely wouldn't approve of his son and his driver stepping out together.
However, she hated keeping things from Foyle. It felt like some sort of betrayal or dishonesty. She had very nearly told him, but had bitten her tongue each time. He would pierce her with his blue eyes, speaking volumes without a word, and it was all she could do not to tell him everything. And now with Andrew… Sam chewed her nail absently, thinking of ways to get around her boss' possible questions.
Her eyes slid back across the room to the prone figure and she smiled to herself. He looked lovely in the morning light and her heart beat a little faster. Only two days ago she had been alternatively worried for him, furious with him, and confused at his aloof manner. She had wanted to box his ears until he got it into his silly head that even though there was a war on, life had to go on as normally as it could, otherwise they might as well pack it in and give over to the Germans. He had begrudged the fact that his best friend wanted to marry his girl as soon as the war was over; he had made light of a young couple making plans, and Sam had felt only annoyance at his despair. She understood better now of course, but then…
Sam waited patiently on a bench in the churchyard, trying to find the source of the pretty birdsong that drifted down from the rafters of the bell tower. In the corner of her eye she saw DCS Foyle standing above a grave. His shoulders were hunched and he held a small bunch of flowers limply in his hands. He seemed unable to make up his mind whether to place the flowers on the grave and go, or to stay a while. She tried not to watch him, but his face kept drawing her in and she felt her heart go out to the quiet, steadfast man.
When he later wandered slowly up the path towards her, she stood, giving him a soft smile. Foyle thrust his hands in his pockets and said, "Thanks for waiting."
"Of course, sir."
Sam felt a hundred questions forming, and wondered what Foyle had been like as a married man. Neither he, nor Andrew ever talked much about the woman they had lost. Sam wondered curiously if Foyle had been home on time for tea in those days; had he been more quick to smile and laugh? His wife had obviously been a special lady. They crunched along the gravel path side by side, and Sam glanced over at Foyle.
"What was she like?" Sam asked tentatively. "You never talk about her. Do you mind me asking?"
"Not at all." A brief smile from Foyle put her at ease. "Well, she was much loved and well thought of…and um, well you would have liked her."
Sam smiled, remembering Andrew having said the same thing. It only peaked her curiosity more, but she bit back any further questions. Foyle seemed distracted, waiting and looking around as if expecting someone else.
"I just want to hang on a moment longer."
"You must miss her terribly."
Foyle nodded and pivoted away from her, searching among the gravestones. "Y-yes."
The birdsong had ended, and the churchyard was quiet as only churchyards can be.
"No, let's go," Foyle said finally, leading the way back to the car.
Sam kept glancing at him as they drove into town. He seemed lost in thought.
As the whole afternoon was spent waiting around at the station, Sam put her mind on the new dress she was going to wear for Andrew. He had been busy flying all week, but he had sent over a note yesterday to say he would be getting a lift in to Hastings with Greville Woods once they were back from their op.
She had sensed the undertone in his words… if we make it back… and it left her feeling cold. She tried to take her mind off it by thinking about the dress and wondering if Andrew would take her dancing. He was a wonderful dancer and she loved the silly jokes he would whisper in her ear as they moved about the dance floor. It was like being in their own little world.
Once she was off duty at six o'clock, feeling famished and slightly anxious, Sam changed in to her new dress at the Police station. She spent a long time over her make-up and hair, trying not to keep checking the time. Stowing her things in Sergeant Milner's office, knowing he wouldn't mind, Sam turned to go only to hear Foyle call out to her.
"You out tonight?"
"Yes, sir. You don't need me any more tonight?" She caught his eye anxiously, hoping he would say no. She so wanted to see Andrew.
He gave a half smile, "No, no you go on. I'll walk."
"You sure?" She didn't like to leave him in the lurch.
"Absolutely," Foyle said warmly, eyes appraising her. "You're looking very…um…"
Sam blushed a becoming pink and felt rather pleased. "Thank you, sir."
"Have a nice time."
She walked away, feeling his eyes on her. Sam realised she quite liked his eyes on her; it made her feel womanly and, for some reason, grown up. Thinking with a laugh as she walked to the pub that if this Foyle thought she looked nice, then Andrew surely would too.
Andrew was always so reticent with her; she couldn't put a finger on it, but there was always a hesitation that didn't seem true to character. She had wondered at first if he had second thoughts about stepping out with her, and then settled on that perhaps she didn't look glamorous enough. He had always kept company with such beautiful girls, that perhaps she was left wanting. So, a new dress, a new hairstyle, and a freshly painted face was sure to convince him that she was up to scratch.
Walking along the cobbled streets, Sam admitted she was perhaps in two minds about his hesitance. She was relieved he wasn't overly fresh, but his chaste kisses lacked the intensity she had heard about in other girls stories about their young men. She intended to get to the bottom of it.
