Disclaimer – I don't own Downton Abbey, the Crimson Field or Foyle's War but the Original Characters (of which there are too many to mention) are my creations.

Summary – Sequel to 'There's A Long, Long Trail' following Thomas, Edward and all of the others through the course of the Second World War.

A/N Title taken from a popular song of the era.

~ I'll Be Seeing You ~

Chapter Seven
March 1942

Thomas had, unfortunately, seen more than his fair share of dead bodies before discovering that of Susan Davies in the dimly hallway. She'd been strangled, the poor girl, that was plain to see given the ring of bruises blossoming on her neck and had died with a look of terror in her eyes. It wasn't the first time he'd seen that look on the face of a dead body, not with his wartime service, but he had never expected to see it on the face of such a young woman.

"And that was when you came upon the body?"

"Yes," Thomas confirmed. "I was attempting to find the facilities for Edward."

If the situation weren't so unpleasant Thomas would be amused how drastically different the Paul Milner who stood before him, armed with his notepad and pencil, was to the Paul Milner that he'd befriended since arriving in Hastings. Gone was the self-depreciating smile and the gentle manner, replaced by a professional tone of voice and commanding presence.

The change in Christopher was equally startling, their first friend in Hastings taking charge of the situation with an authority that reminded Thomas of Mr Carson and a sympathy for the young victim that reminded him of Mrs Hughes, his voice softening when he spoke of Susan.

"Did you see anyone else in the corridor?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Thomas answered regretfully. "The corridor lights were off which, combined with my limited field of vision, meant that I was mostly looking at the floor."

Paul nodded, writing all of this down in his notepad.

"And you, Mr Courtenay? Did you happen to hear anyone or anything?"

"I'm afraid that the music was too loud, Sergeant," Edward's voice was filled with an equal amount of regret as he stood beside Thomas, both hands resting on his cane. "I could barely hear out own footsteps let alone anyone else's. There was a smell, though, like stale beer."

"Thank you," Paul murmured, his attention focuses on his notepad for a moment before returning to them. "We may need to speak to you again so please don't leave the town."

"Of course," Edward agreed. "You know where the find us."

"I've asked Sam to run you home," Christopher announced as Thomas carefully led Edward away from the doorway where they'd been being interviewed, the doorway that led to the area that was now being referred to as the crime scene. Both of them were unsteady on their feet, probably due to a bit of delayed shock, and were grateful of his offer. "No need to make you wait for your own car to arrive when you've had such a distressing experience."

"Thank you, Christopher," Edward murmured, reaching out blindly to shake the policeman's hand. "Please, let us know if there's anything more you need of us. We'll be happy to help."

Christopher murmured his agreement before sending them on their way.

The discovery of the body had brought the party to an abrupt end, unsurprisingly, with the guests leaving as soon as they were permitted to and the American soldiers being ordered back to their barracks. It shouldn't, therefore, have taken Thomas twenty minutes to find Margaret whilst Edward used the telephone to call for someone to come and pick them up.

And in the end he didn't find her so much as she happened to stumble upon him.

"…where have you been?"

His sharp demand prompted the spoilt young woman to jump away from him, spinning to offer him a glare that was every inch her grandmother as she placed her hands on her hips.

"How dare you speak to me that way?"

"How dare I?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he returned her glare. "How dare you disappear like that? Are you even aware that a girl about your age was murdered?"

"…what?"

Her voice was still sharp only now it was with shock rather than anger.

"Your Uncle and I had the misfortune to discover the body of a young woman an hour or so ago which you would know if you hadn't disappeared," Thomas explained, frowning as he only then took in her appearance. Her skirt was wrinkled in ways that it shouldn't have if she'd just been dancing or sitting. The top two buttons nearest her throat were undone, allowing him to see a red mark on her skin where her neck met her shoulder. A few pins were in danger of falling out of her hair, one previously perfect roll significantly deflated. And her lipstick was smudged. Oh, she'd tried to tidy it up but the evidence was there for anyone who looked closely enough to see. "…your mum'll kill you if she sees you like this!"

Eyes going wide in shock she brought her hands up to her hair, patting at it uselessly.

"And your dad'll kill you when he finds out you've been with a man!" Thomas continued in a sharp hiss, the colour draining from her face with each word. "What we're you thinking?!"

"You can't tell them!"

"I won't need to tell them," Thomas scoffed rather cruelly. "It's written all over you."

"I met Chuck in town a couple of weeks ago," she defended herself hurriedly, her eyes no longer filled with shock or anger. No, now they were pleading with him to understand. "He's so different and so nice to me. He invited me to the dance. We didn't mean to…it just…"

"…just?"

"…happened."

"Well, I hope for your sake he took precautions or you'll be up a creek with no paddle and no mistake," Thomas huffed, his glare softening as she gulped and looked much younger than she really was. Bloody hell… "Look, go sort yourself out in the bathroom and then maybe they won't notice. Hair. Dress. Lipstick. Nothing you can do about your wrinkled skirt. And then pray to God that you don't fall pregnant or there'll be no hiding it from anyone."

"I…" the young woman began before thinking better of it. "Thank you, Mr Barrow."

Ducking her head the spoilt young woman who may or may not be about to receive her comeuppance depending on how this evening played out in the long run scurried away.

Sam was stood alongside Edward when he returned to his partner.

"Did you find her?"

"I did," he answered tersely. "She's just gone to tidy herself up."

"Tidy herself…" Edward repeated with a frown. "Why would she need to tidy herself up?"

There were no secrets between them.

There never had been.

It was one of the reasons that their relationship had survived this long.

And Thomas wasn't going to ruin that for Margaret Courtenay…

"Because she's spent here evening getting to know a Yank she met in town a couple of weeks ago," Thomas answered somewhat cryptically, unwilling to speak bluntly of the subject in front of Sam. "If you're brother had seen her he'd have given her what for."

"She…" Edward trailed off into a disappointed frown. "Stupid girl…"

"Quite," Thomas agreed shortly. "I haven't made any promises, as such, regarding whether or not we will keep her activities a secret, merely offered some advice regarding her current appearance as when I came upon your niece there was no hiding what she had been up to."

"Stupid girl," Edward repeated, shaking instead even as Sam let out a startled sound as she figured out just what the young woman in question had been up to. He turned at the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, Thomas turning a moment later to watch Margaret hurry around the corner, her footsteps faltering when she caught sight of her uncle. "Margaret."

"Oh," she mumbled, coming to a stop before them. "Mr Barrow's told you…"

"Yes, he has," Edward informed her, his tone of voice colder than Sam had ever heard him use before. Thomas himself had only heard Edward use that tone of voice a handful of times over the years, his lover normally the more even tempered of the two of them. "I hope you understand the position you've gotten yourself and the two of us into with your actions..."

Margaret nodded, her eyes dropping meekly in a way that Thomas had never seen before.

Not from her, at least.

"If your parents find out that we knew what you've been up to…"

"You aren't going to tell them?"

"I should," Edward muttered following her interruption, his words prompting her to let out a sigh of relief as he continued. "But I won't. Your actions tonight will remain our little secret unless you decide to speak of it. We shall have to explain that you were no where near the scene of the murder so should anyone ask you were I think it best if you say you were…"

"With me," Sam interrupted him, smiling at the other young woman. "Getting some air."

"You shouldn't have to lie for us, Sam…"

"There's no harm in it," Sam responded with a shrug. "And a female alibi would be best."

"Thank you, Sam."

"Yes, thank you," Margaret hurried to echo. "I didn't mean for this to…I mean…"

"Just make sure it doesn't happen again unless you've got a wedding ring on your finger."

Following his final statement Edward suggested that they make their move, wanting to get out of the way of the police investigation and the American military who we still trying to run their base of operations despite everything that had happened. As predicted news of the murder did not go over well with the rest of his family, Margaret's parents reacting the worst, and the young woman in question wasn't allowed to leave the estate for days for fear that something would happen to her. Her actions at the dance never came into question.

The investigation into Susan's death progressed, Milner calling around to clarify a couple of details with them about what they had seen and heard on the night in question. Someone else, one of the American's, had apparently heard Susan arguing with someone before she'd been murdered but they had no more information to give. He'd also shared the fact that the young woman had been pregnant, father unknown, and this was now the suspected motive.

A couple of days later they arrested the killer.

It wasn't the father of her child, the young American called Taylor who had gotten sick at the dance, but Alan Carter, the pub landlord and more importantly Susan's boss. Apparently they'd been running an illegal still out of the back room of the pub using the knowledge and skills she'd picked up working in a chemical factory but after their alcohol had brought about the death of Paul's friend, causing him to go blind on the night that his room caught on fire, Alan had wanted to close it down. Susan, in need of money, refused and paid with her life.

It also came to light that Andrew Foyle had had the audacity to throw Sam over.

"…he's what?!"

Sam ducked her head, her lower lip wobbling as she repeated what she'd said before,

"Andrew has brought our relationship to an end."

"In a letter?" Thomas clarified. She nodded sadly. "That…that…spineless…gutless…bas–"

"Thomas!" Edward hissed. "Language!"

"I'm sorry, but I can't believe he could just…"

"We're too far apart," Sam explained. "And he's…lonely…"

"Lonely!" Thomas spat with venom. "He's lonely! How dare he? How dare he?"

"It's fine, Thomas," Sam hurried to point out. "I was heartbroken, of course, but now I…I don't think I'm anywhere near upset as I probably should be so perhaps it was for the best."

"I don't suppose that has anything to do with Private Farnetti?"

This time Sam ducked her head out of bashfulness than sadness.

"Perhaps…"

Life returned to normal, or as normal as it could be in a time of war, after that.

Their duties with the Home Guard kept them busy, the regular patrols keeping them out of the house most evenings, and a couple of times the platoon was called upon during the day to assist the regular Army or even the Americans, most notably with some downed German airmen who had all managed to escape their burning plane before the bomber had crashed.

Unlike the last pilot they'd picked up these ones were ardent Nazi's.

As March turned into April news of the successful raid on St Nazaire began to reach them, the figures of those lost during the action trickling through the official channels much later. Of the 346 sailors and 265 commandos who took part in the raid 169 were killed and 215 captured. There were no figures of the casualties and losses suffered by the RAF in the raid.

April brought concerning news from the Pacific, with Bataan and several others falling to the Japanese, and the stirring news that Malta, the British colony still besieged by the Germans and the Italians after almost two years, was to be awarded the George Cross to "honour her brave people…to bear witness to a hero is and devotion that will long be famous in history."

It also brought news that George Crawley had enlisted in the Duke of Manchester's Own regiment just as his father had before him and would shortly be starting his basic training.

May brought about more news of the Pacific, or Africa, of Malta but the news that caused the most reaction amongst the family was a piece of news that came from a source much closer to home. It was almost painful to watch, Thomas had admitted to himself, once he'd recognised the signs; Margaret went off her food first before being struck down by the flu, the nauseousness accompanied by dark circles of exhaustion under her eyes, and then when her appetite had returned at last she began requesting unusual combinations of flavours.

It was obvious to him if not anyone else.

Her actions at the dance had come back to haunt her,

She was pregnant.

He found it somewhat amusing that none of her family recognised the signs for what they were, only finding out when the father of her child Private Charles "Chuck" Burton came to do the "honourable thing" and asked her to marry him so that their baby wouldn't be born on the wrong side of the blanket. The American, who Thomas noted wasn't what you would call classically handsome but was still strikingly attractive as most Yanks seemed to be, was lucky not to be hung, drawn, and quartered given the way her parents reacted to the news.

"You filthy little slut!" Elvira screeched, her hand moving before any of them could realise what she intended to do, slapping her daughter around the face. "How could you? How…"

"There's no call for violence, Ma'am!" Chuck intervened bravely, putting himself between mother and daughter when Elvira moved to strike Margaret again. His accent was every bit as think as his name, Chuck, suggested it would be. "I know this is sudden and it's certainly not the way I planned it but I love your daughter and I intend to marry her, whether you give your permission or not. She's a wonderful girl and doesn't deserve you beating on her."

Thomas wouldn't have gone so far as to call the selfish and usually sullen girl wonderful but to each his own, he supposed. After all, Edward had fallen in love with him back when he was still somewhat bitter and spiteful, their love being the thing to finally soften his heart.

"Oh, you'll marry her, sunshine, and soon!" Jack snapped, glaring at the young couple as his only daughter clutched at the sleeve of Chucks uniform with one trembling hand whilst the other covered the red handprint covering her pale cheek. "When's the little bastard due?"

"Daddy, please…"

"When?"

"Sometime in the New Year, I think," Margaret confessed. "I haven't seen a doctor yet…"

Her mothers eyes blazed with anger as she put the last of the puzzle pieces together.

"…I knew letting you go to that damned dance was a terrible idea!" she spat at her daughter who cowered behind her future husband. "Is that where you met him? What, did he offer you some nylons and you dropped your knickers like a good little whore? Is that what hap–"

"We met in town," Chuck announced firmly, drawing Elvira's attention back to him. "And I have tried to be nothing but a gentleman to your daughter. Yes, we got carried away once and both of us regret it but the outcome was inevitable to my way of thinking; I'd have still been here asking for your daughters hand even if there wasn't the baby to think of, Ma'am."

"Did you know about this?" Jack demanded, rounding on Edward. "About them?"

"Uncle Edward didn't know anything," Margaret piped up suddenly, finding her courage from somewhere deep inside her as she lied to keep her father from finding out that both Edward and Thomas knew what had happened. "They didn't know what I'd…what we'd…"

Jack kept glaring at his brother, obviously doubting her explanation, but said nothing.

"I suppose, then, that the next thing to do is to arrange the wedding," Ida spoke up for the first to from where she was stood with a hand resting on her husband's arm, keeping him from joining in the conversation. "I shall have a word with Mr Wheeler at St Mary's and…"

Excusing themselves softly Thomas and Edward left the rest of their family to plan the hasty wedding, retreating to Edwards room as his mother continued to make her intentions plain.

As much as Margaret had wanted to wear white on her wedding day her grandmother had put her foot down, ordering Elvira to find her "strumpet of a daughter" something in pale blue or pink, perhaps yellow if there wasn't anything else available. They ended up getting her a sensible jacket and skirt in mustard yellow, pairing it with a cream blouse that she already owned, a cream hat of her mothers with a little bit on netting to act as a veil, cream gloves and a pair of sandals that were a mixtures of brown, red, orange and yellow leather.

Chuck wore his best uniform and did cut rather handsome figure in the church.

Her bouquet was a simple, designed not to draw attention to her stomach even though the bulge was barely noticeably at the early stage of her pregnancy, and she wore a blue garter, a gift from her bridesmaid and best friend, Rosie Carmichael-Smyth, for her something blue whilst the rest of her outfit conformed for the test of the traditional saying. Edward was the one to eventually provide the sixpence to go in her left shoe as no one else had any change.

As far as weddings went it was very simple, quick and efficient rather than a big spectacle, but the important moments happened and the couple emerged legally married. They had the reception in the church hall, most of the Americans attending to support their "buddy" and so Thomas and Edward were able to catch up with the young men they'd met at the pub. The rest of the brides immediate family kept to themselves, their disapproval plain.

After waving the young couple off on their honeymoon, a weekend in Bournemouth, the party came to an end and everyone returned home. Well, almost everyone as the Home Guard were called out to guard a downed German bomber just as they were leaving and so Thomas and Edward only returned home to change into their uniforms before heading out.

It was still aflame when they arrived, Edward joining them in the field for once as they would be remaining in one place and not tramping over uneven ground overly much.

"Were there any survivors?"

"Yes, three," Thomas answered his lover. "They're sat underneath an old oak tree."

Edward hummed thoughtfully,

"Do they required aid?"

Only one did, as it turned out, the youngest who had come down hard on his ankle. Thomas checked it over, finding it badly sprained rather than broken, and Edward then assisted him in applying a bandage to the limb, all the while reassuring the young man that he'd be fine.

They then joined their Home Guardsmen in keeping the prisoners and the wreck secure until the regular Army could relieve them which wasn't until light was beginning to fade.

It was a long day and a relief to get back to the Estate, sharing a simple supper in Edwards room as they had missed the family dinner by then, and then because they were able to get away with it as none of the family would know they spent the night together, refamiliarising themselves with each other's bodies as they shared their passion together after a good few weeks of only being able to steal the odd hug or kiss from each other. After such a long time apart, in terms of pleasure, it was a challenge for the two of them to remain silent lest they draw unwanted attention to their activities, muffling each other's cries with their mouths.

They remained curled in each other's arms throughout the night, Thomas's prosthetic resigned to it's usual home on the bedside table so that his stump was free to rest over Edwards heart, and awoke to the first rays of the sun filtering through the ancient glass.

There were few sights that appealed more to Thomas than that of his lovers naked form bathed in sunlight, the contours of his flesh creating oddly shaped shadows that grew and shrank with the movements of the sun. He loved the way that Edward's hair seemed to be made of fire when it caught the sunlight in such moments even as its colour faded with age.

"You're staring at me again…"

"I am," Thomas confirmed with a slight chuckle. "I cannot help it."

Edward smiled, reaching out to stroke his fingertips across his partners face, tracing across the familiar features, following the laugh lines around his eyes before moving down his nose to the fullness of his top lip, following the curve of his smile up to the dimples in his cheeks.

"Finding all my faults?"

"You have many, my love, but your looks could never be one," Edward reassured him softly, their breath mingling between them even as his fingers continued to roam, stroking across the apples of Thomas' cheeks. "You are every bit as handsome as the first time I saw you."

Thomas chuckled once more.

"You're a liar," he informed his lover. "But I won't argue with you."

They lay abed as long as they could get away with before rising to begin their days.

A/N This chapter annoyed me greatly as it refused to flow properly but I fought on and got it out in the end. A few bits were quite predictable, I think, but it couldn't be helped as it is all part of my original plan for this story. As always comments and suggestions are welcome. X