The Pale Rider

Part: 25
Rating: T
Summary: What do you do when a dead body washes up on the beach?
Beta: Captn Becky, Harper64
Notes: Canon up to May 1942. Anything else are lovely imaginations from the author's warped mind.
Disclaimer: All known characters are the creation of Anthony Horowitz and Dorothy Sayers. I make no money off this.

Scene 25

Christopher couldn't help but think of his sergeant as he sat in the wooden wheelchair outside the hospital while waiting for his lift to arrive. The hospital had given him crutches and a walking stick to aide him in maneuvering around his home once he was back. At the moment, those rested on his lap.

Home.

He sighed as he tightened his grip on the wood. It was a good day seeing he was able to leave the hospital alive and in relatively decent condition, even if he still had to deal with a messed up shoulder and broken leg. The stitches in his forehead would be removed soon enough by his doctor.

It was only the day before that he found out that one leg bone had jutted out of his skin. The knowledge of that alone brought unheeded, and unwanted memories from his time in the trenches so many years earlier. He pushed his thoughts to the side and focused on wondering who would drive both him and Sam back to Hastings.

Sam.

He had no idea what he was going to do. Just the thought that she also harbored feelings for him bothered him to no end. Looking back now he could see clearly her growing feelings for him. It was so obvious that he wondered how he was so blind to it earlier. Maybe it was because he was trying to hold back his own emotions.

He frowned when he heard her say something to the nurse with her. She was somewhere nearby, but definitely outside the building. Just like him, he could see she tired easily, and with her specific injuries it was almost impossible for her to get a decent breath.

Eventually a very familiar looking Daimler, with the top up once again, came up the driveway and pulled to a stop in front of the steps. Peter climbed out from behind the driver's seat and came towards him, mounting the stairs. Christopher could see someone else in the car, but he didn't recognize who he or she was. It ended up being a woman who emerged. Who is she?

"You're carriage awaits, milord," Peter gave him an amused grin as his arm swept towards the Daimler.

"Who is your companion?" Christopher really wanted to know if she was a nurse or not, and why she was with Peter.

Peter cocked his head to the side, then smiled. "That, old chap, is my wife, Harriet."

Christopher nodded, then braced himself with his one good arm so he could stand. With help from both the nurse and Peter, he was soon on his feet and being helped down the steps to the gravel road. Even that simple movement seemed to wipe him out. As soon as he was situated in the back seat of the car and behind the driver's seat, he lowered his head and squeezed his eyes shut, then leaned his head back against the top of the seat. If it was this exhausting just getting to the car, he wondered how bad it would be when he arrived home.

Hearing a whimper that sounded just like Sam's when she was in the WC at the mortuary, he opened his eyes and looked around. It bothered him greatly just how weak Sam seemed. She almost had to be carried to the car because of her ribs and injured knee.

It took some doing before Sam was finally settled into the car. She bowed her head and tears came out of her eyes that were squeezed shut. For once he felt glad she was seated to his left or he knew he would have reached over to brush one of the tears away.

When she finally opened her eyes, she glanced over to him. "I'm hurting and can't seem to get a decent breath and your exhausted. What a pair we make."

"Be glad we're alive."

"Oh I am." She winced as she tried to take a deeper breath. "I just can't seem to catch my breath."

"It'll get better."

The car dipped down as first Peter and then Harriet climbed into the two front seats. Peter started the car engine and slid the gear into first. "Miss Stewart," he turned to look back at her as he slipped on his driving gloves. "We will be on our way to your billet first."

"Do you know where it is, my Lord?" she furrowed her brow.

"No. You will need to direct me there." He turned and looked at the mirror to adjust it before pulling away from the hospital.

It felt good to be out of the hospital environment, Christopher mused as he looked across the passing landscape. Peter drove at a relatively sedate pace and made sure to not hit any potholes in the road for Sam's benefit. The sound of the engine, and the gentle rocking motion the car made almost made him want to sleep. Yet he forced himself to concentrate on the land that was passing them by.

The hospital wasn't too far out of town, yet far enough that the Germans wouldn't be constantly bombing it. They soon reached the outskirts of Hastings. Even though the engine drowned out what sound was coming from the sea, the salt brine in the air easily announced that you were nearing it.

With Sam's capable directions they soon pulled up to a house not too far from the station. It was her second billet since arriving two years earlier. Her bicycle was over at the station proper, and would most likely remain there until she had the strength to retrieve it.

Harriet turned around to Sam. Her voice seemed very cultured, then again she was part of the high gentry, "Miss Stewart, is your landlady at home?"

Sam looked as if she wanted to shrug, but didn't. "I think so. I don't remember if she said she'd be visiting family or not."

"I see. What about your key?" Harriet climbed out of the front seat and opened the rear passenger door for easier access.

"Um…I think it's at the station." Sam shook her head. Taking a deep breath she winced and rubbed her chest.

"Is there one outside somewhere?"

Sam frowned. "Um…under one of the pots beside the door."

"You stay here." Harriet nodded and walked up to the front door and knocked. When there was no answer, she searched around and found the key and used it to open the door. Several minutes later she came back outside, her head shaking. She came back to the Daimler. "I'm sorry, but that place will not do, especially in your condition. Where is your room?"

Sam closed her eyes and bowed her head. "First room on the right on the first floor."

"Harriet?" Peter cocked his head.

She glanced towards Peter. "Peter, there's no one inside."

They both nodded and Harriet went back to the house. When she came back out she had a bag in hand. Once the place was locked back up and the key returned to its spot, she came back to the Daimler.

"Where am I going to stay?" as soon as the words were out of Sam's mouth her eyes widened when she realized what the two before her had in mind.

"Mr. Foyle, I do hope you don't mind," Peter looked at Foyle through the mirror, "but I should think it'd be better if both of you were near enough for us to keep an eye on you."

Christopher went to protest then stopped. It was only then he realized that he really wasn't in control anymore, neither of the investigation nor of his own home. Andrew would be very amused at all of this. "Does Mr. Reid know of this development?"

He could see Peter's amused smile through the mirror. "If he doesn't old chap, he will soon enough." And with that, they were once again on their way, this time into Hastings proper. It didn't take that long before Peter stopped in front of his house and behind another car. Hugh has to be here.

Christopher was not looking forward to getting out of the car and up the steps, and then there were the stairs inside that led to the first floor and his bedroom. It wasn't the first time he wished he had a single level home, and he knew it certainly wouldn't be the last. What did surprise him was that it didn't take as long as he expected. The Daimler's back door opened, and he was helped to his feet. He used one of the crutches to balance on the pavement when the door opened and Hugh emerged from the house.

By the time he was settled into his favorite chair Christopher felt beyond exhausted. He ignored the movement and voices that came from the kitchen area. The floor creaked under someone's weight and then Hugh's voice asked, "Are you okay, Christopher?"

He cracked an eye open, finding his old friend standing nearby with a concerned look on his face. Just beyond he could see Sam resting on the settee, stretched out with her eyes closed. "I just need some rest. It was rather difficult sleeping in the ward."

"Yes, I know." Hugh glanced over to Sam and then back. "What about her?"

"Um…" Christopher was so tired that he couldn't even remember who Peter's wife was, or even care that it bothered him.

Hugh cocked his head. "Lady Peter?"

"Yes, her," Christopher nodded. "Apparently Sam's landlady isn't home. The doctor at the hospital didn't want her to be alone for now."

Hugh gave him an amused smile. "I'll let the boys at the station know that you're back home from hospital." And with that the uniformed officer left the house.

As soon as the door closed Harriet came in from the kitchen and looked around. "Did Mr. Reid leave?"

"Yes," Christopher sank deeper into the chair and let his head rest against the backrest once again.

"Lady Peter?"

Christopher cracked an eye open again, this time to watch Sam. It really bothered him that she sounded so weak, or maybe it was the exhaustion that was speaking.

Harriet smiled as she turned towards Sam. "You can call me Harriet."

"Harriet, where am I to sleep?"

"Sam, there's more than enough room on the first floor."

Sam's eyes widened and she blushed. Their eyes caught for a moment then she turned to look at the back of the settee. She cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable, or was it embarrassment? "But…."

It took several minutes before Harriet realized what Sam was implying. "Oh, don't worry. It's not what you think. There's a nice bedroom on the second floor. I'm staying there with Peter. You will be sleeping," she glanced to Christopher who nodded, "in Andrew's room."

Sam turned back, surprise written on her face, "There's another floor? I thought it was just the attic."

"Yes, Sam. There is another floor." Christopher smiled as she turned his attention towards him. Her eyes lowered and he let his wander towards Harriet as the woman looked around the room. She nodded as she reached for one of the books near the other chair. He could tell it wasn't one of his. That must be Sam's.

"Here, Sam." Harriet moved the few steps towards the settee, "Why don't you read one of my books?" She gave it to Sam.

"You?" Sam did a double take as she looked at the book, then to Harriet, then back to the book. "This is…I mean y-you wrote this?"

Harriet smiled. "Yes. At the time I was working on it, I was over in Seahampton."

"You're Harriet Vane?" Same looked at her in awe.

"Yes, I am."

TBC...