See Prologue for disclaimer and spoilers

Author's Note: I would like to extend a huge thank you to eyesforfiction for the input and the fantastic plot bunny feeding. That being said, all mistakes are still all mine.

Chapter 3

Foyle woke again a couple of hours later. He stayed still and assessed the environment, once again. There were no extraneous noises anywhere in the house; as far as he could hear. Sam was, he was fairly certain, still asleep. Her breathing was even and she had not moved much from where he repositioned her earlier; when he drew her to his chest before going back to sleep. She was more to his side again and he became aware of the numbing pain in the arm that was now more under than around her. Awareness of his discomfort spread with the realization that one leg was numb near his foot and the other was revealing various degrees of numbness and tingling pain from hip to toe. It was no longer possible for him to hold still, the more he woke, the more pronounced the miscellaneous pains became. Foyle attempted to ease Sam fully to the couch and off his chest and arm. His slow gentle movements were successful enough to free himself from the weight of her sleeping form without disturbing her. The small pillow from the night before was resting on the floor; he retrieved it and slipped it under her head as he inched away the last little distance. Gritting his teeth against the shocks shooting up and down his legs, he struggled to keep from making any noise, as he flexed and massaged the waking muscles. When he was certain he could safely stand, Foyle eased himself to the edge of the couch and stood gingerly; standing still as he waited for the rest of the numbness to abate. With a last glance to be sure Sam was still asleep, he carefully made his way around the table and the end of the couch to exit the parlor and enter the kitchen. The room was empty; but, a newspaper lay folded in half on the table with a note alongside. Foyle picked up the note and read the precise writing of a well practice hand.

My Dear Samantha and Christopher,

Please forgive my absence on your arising for the day. Obligations of my position require my attending to a few clerical visits today. Do not wait lunch on me; I shall not be home until tea time.

Know you are both welcome, as always, to consider my home yours.

Christopher this means, in part, whatever you find to eat; consider it yours.

May I suggest a stroll down along the water path? It is a lovely day for that particular walk.

Uncle Aubrey

Foyle replaced the note, just as he had found it, and left the kitchen. He quickly made his way upstairs and attended to his morning routines. Returning to the kitchen; shaved and dressed, he set the kettle on to boil. While waiting for the water; he set the tray with cups, saucers, toast, a jar of berry jam, and small bowls of milk and sugar. Once the water was ready he poured it into the pot that was already in place on the tray and steeped their tea. Tray in hand, he returned to the parlor and set it on the table near Sam. He glanced at the clock on the other side of the room and was surprised to find it was half passed eleven. Although he hated to have to wake Sam he knew if she slept much longer she would likely have difficulty sleeping the coming night. Wondering how best to wake her, he turned back to find she was watching him.

"Good morning."

"Mmm, good morning." Sam's sleepy voice matched her half hooded eyes and the slow stretch that said more than anything else; she wasn't really ready to wake up.

Her eyes drifted shut as she relaxed back into the couch at the end of her stretch. Foyle smirked at her persistent sleepiness; pleased to know she was in fact able to sleep after the distressing dream she had had. Stepping back to the couch he sat down a short distance from her; giving her space to move once she was truly awake.

Keeping his voice low, he called, coaxingly, "Sam?"

"Hmm." Was her sighed reply.

Maintaining the low soft tone he continued, "If you'll wake up we can have some tea and toast together." He paused to watch her shift under the blanket and then added a bit more firmly, "While it's still hot." There was just the slightest hint of a question in his words.

Sam squeezed her eyes tightly shut, stretched again and then moaned quietly as she opened her eyes and started to sit up.

When she looked at him again he greeted her once more, an expectant expression framing his words, "Good morning. Sleep well?"

She pinched her eyes closed and rolled her head around her shoulders, "Mmm huh."

Foyle picked up her tea cup and saucer and made a point of making noise as her doctored the tea to her preference. The tinkling of the spoon as it tapped side to side in the cup worked to draw her eyes open.

Sam looked up at him from her half seated position and smiled apologetically, "That mine?"

"Uh huh." His hand moved the cup toward her as his face shifted to ask if she wanted the cup.

She wiggled about and sat the rest of the way up as she pulled the blanket around her shoulders.

He passed her the cup and saucer and then began to fix his own cup.

After few sips she gave him a sleepy smile, "Good morning."

He smiled back and gave her tilt of his head as he swallowed the tea he had just sipped from his cup.

Sam took another sip then hummed, "Mmm. Thank you."

"You're welcome,"

She looked a bit bashful all of a sudden, her voice was so soft he barely heard her, "Thanks for the sleep too."

Foyle was not sure how to respond to that so he simply nodded.

The look they exchanged seemed to say enough for both of them.

While they had their tea and toast he told her of Aubrey's note and they discussed how they would spend their day until her uncle's return.

Following tea, Foyle cleaned up their dishes and tidied the parlor while Sam went upstairs to change and get ready for their walk. They took Aubrey's suggestion and walked the water path down to the old foot bridge and then back along the same side back to the vicarage. Neither wished to brave the rickety old footbridge, only to be on the far side of the water, resulting in their having to walk an extra mile and a quarter to reach the newer arched cart bridge; the only other way back, within 5 miles, to the vicarage side of the water.

They returned to the vicarage ahead of Aubrey by about a half an hour. Together they set about preparing for tea time. When Aubrey returned the three had a companionable tea; no one mentioned the night before. Foyle had mentally braced himself for the possibility that Sam's uncle would feel the need to talk to him about what he had witnessed the previous night and that morning. Aubrey, from the moment he returned home, addressed topics of purely innocuous nature. There was no hint of subterfuge on the vicar's part; it became obvious to Foyle Aubrey was leaving it to him whether they discussed the situation or not. Since Sam had spent the day, with him, avoiding the topic and frequently changing the subject anytime their conversation veered too close for her comfort. Foyle decided it would be best, for Aubrey and him, to talk away from Sam's presence.

Later that evening, Aubrey and Foyle sat at a game of chess while Sam lounged on the couch reading a mystery novel. As the game advanced and their general conversation waned, Foyle broached the topic of Aubrey and him going fishing the next morning. At first, Aubrey seemed almost confused by the suggestion. Foyle drew the older man's eyes to his and then slid his glance in Sam's direction and back. He was grateful when Aubrey caught his meaning instantly and fell in quickly; the two began to plan their fishing excursion for the next morning.

Aubrey inquired of Sam, "My dear, would you mind Christopher and me leaving you alone for the morning? I did invite him with the promise of a fishing trip."

Foyle was impressed with how astute Aubrey had been to be sure he was the one to ask if Sam minded. His add on about the fishing invitation gave his inquiry an air of innocence that fully disguised any hint of an ulterior motive. Foyle chewed the inside of his cheek and pretended to study his next move; so he would not be tempted to look at Sam and risk giving anything away.

"No, I won't mind." She smiled sweetly at her uncle and then added cheekily, "If the two of you don't mind me being excited to have some time to myself?"

For a fleeting moment Foyle thought Sam had caught on to them; but, when he turned to look at her, her expression was devoid of any suspicion.

Her last statement had not really been a question; the smirk she wore showed that clearly. Neither man could resist teasing her; just a little.

"No, not at all my dear. Did you want us to stay away all day?" Aubrey offered in an overly solicitous manner.

"Should have said something earlier, Sam. Thought you liked my company." Foyle said with a hint of apology in his voice that was completely contradicted by his winking at her.

It was obvious all around that they were all in on Sam's joke as they exchanged grins and winks and Sam giggled at them.

Just to be certain the two knew she really was fine with them being gone she said, "Seriously, I don't mind at all. I know how much you both love to fish."

Her uncle thanked her and Foyle gave her a short nod of acknowledgment. Then each of the three resumed their previous activities.

A little while later, Aubrey motioned for him to look to the couch. Sam was asleep, her book, pinned under her hands, lying on her chest. Foyle got up, crossed to the couch and stepped cautiously between the couch and the table so as not to trip on Sam's discarded slippers. He slowly eased the book from her loose grasp and set it on the table. Then leaning past her, he picked up the blanket from the end of the couch and carefully covered her; being certain to tuck the fabric around her bare feet. Stepping back just as cautiously, he returned Aubrey and their match.

In a few moves Aubrey whispered, "Check."

Foyle blinked and shook his head in a short little twitching motion as he attempted to survey the board and figure out his next move. The move he settled on was of no help.

"Checkmate." came the resigned whisper from his opponent; who was certain Foyle was too distracted to have played any better that evening.

Aubrey gave him a strangely sympathetic look; that vanished as fast as it had appeared; leaving Foyle to wonder if he had imagined it. As his face began to morph to reflect his question; Aubrey curtailed Foyle's inquiry with a warm smile.

"Goodnight, Christopher"

Matching his friend's smile, he tendered a return, "Goodnight, Aubrey" and watched as Sam's uncle began to climb the stairs.

With a glance to Sam, remembering her saying it would get colder before morning, Foyle got to his feet and headed upstairs as well. After ducking into her room to turn down the bed; on the off chance she returned to her room in the night, he retrieved an extra blanket from the linen cabinet in the hall. Without further delay he descended the stairs to see to it Sam was tucked in; comfortably and warm enough for the night. After covering her with the extra blanket he gently lifted her head to slip the little pillow under it.

He looked at her for a moment and then tenderly stroked her hair as he bent down to place a kiss on her forehead, "Goodnight, Sam" he whispered against her hair before rising.

Foyle started for the stairs, intending to go up to bed, but found himself returning to Sam. The thought had crossed his mind that she could have another nightmare and he did not want her so far away if she did. Being mindful not to jostle her, he eased himself down onto the couch near her head. Positioning himself comfortably against the cushions; he made sure he could easily reach out and stroke her hair. It was not long before he drifted off to sleep too.

Sam woke a couple of hours later. She stirred and was momentarily disoriented when she did not readily recognize where she was. She sat up suddenly, waking Foyle with her rapid movement. As they each realized where they were, they exchanged a look and simultaneously began to shift about. Sam sat up and dropped her feet to the floor; sliding them into her slippers. Foyle pushed himself forward from the cushions and stretched in various ways before standing up. As he offered Sam his hand, to help her up, he plucked the extra blanket from the couch. Once Sam found her feet and stood in front of him he draped the blanket around her shoulders and then guided her to the stairs. Remembering how groggy she had been earlier when she woke; he took special care to make sure she navigated the stairs safely. When they reached her bedroom door Foyle halted their advance and turned Sam to face him. He absently drew the blanket tighter about her shoulders and then rested his hands atop the blanket.

His voice was just loud enough for her to hear; as her assertion that Aubrey was a light sleeper came to mind, "Goodnight, Sam. Sleep well."

Her eyes drifted closed as though she would go to sleep right there.

Again, keeping his voice low, he said, "Hey." When she looked at him he continued, "You remember your uncle and I are going fishing in the morning."

Sam nodded and blinked in an attempt to keep her eyes open; then she yawned. "Yeah, I remember." Her words trailing into a mumble.

Foyle could not help but smile at her sleepiness when he suggested, "Maybe you can have a lie in tomorrow while we're gone."

Sam made a noncommittal, "Mmm." sound and blinked a couple of times before she managed to focus on him again.

With great effort to suppress a snicker, he leaned in and brushed a faint kiss to her forehead, "Go to bed, Sam. Sleep well."

"Mmm," she agreed and then managed a groggy, "G'night." before she turned and shuffled toward her bed.

Foyle held his place at her door, his teeth toying with the inside corner of his mouth; in an attempt to avoid laughing aloud. In all the years they had known each other, he could not recall ever seeing her so; the only way he could think to describe was 'sleep drunk', he found it both humorous and endearing. Leaning on the door frame, he waited until he had seen her safely reach her bed, kick off her slippers and, with the extra blanket still wrapped around her shoulders, she snuggled down into her bed and mechanically pulled the covers about herself.

Foyle stepped from her doorway, paused to switch off the lamp on the hall table that Aubrey had left on for them, and retired to his room for the night.