It was in the dark hours of the early morning that he was awakened by her screams. Forgetting his robe and slippers, Christopher Foyle flew into the hall and through the door to his room. Sam was sitting up in the bed alternating between screams and sobs. "Sam," he said as evenly as he could manage. He knew that he needed to go slow, that she was caught up in some sort of nightmare and he shouldn't startle her out of it. But she kept screaming. As bad as her screams were, however, her sobs were shattering. "Sam," he said a little more emphatically.

Touching her could be risky, he thought, but he needed to do something to bring her out of the terror she was locked in. Gingerly he reached out and touched her arm, "Sam!"

She jerked at his touch and then whirled toward him, her unseeing eyes wide in panic as she swiped her arm around to slap him, knocking him backwards into the door. His back hurt where it connected with the corner of the solid door, his head following just after. That felt like his head might've been sliced into halves. Rubbing the back of his head tenderly, Foyle approached her cautiously. "Sam, really… you must wake up," he said harshly hoping the sound of his frustration in his voice might get through to her. She raised her hand to swing again but he caught it and held her wrist firmly, trying desperately not to injure her more. "Sam!" he yelled and then with he shook her. He regretted it but he could think of nothing else to snap her out of it.

His shake had the effect of reducing her to sobs as she collapsed into the bed. Foyle couldn't tell if she had awakened or not, so he sat tentatively on the bed. "Sam, are you awake?"

She shuddered and he heard a hitch in her crying. "Yes," came a hoarse whisper.

"Yyou were hhaving a nightmare," he told her softly.

"They were… they kept… I tried to fight them off but they just kept…" and she fell into more sobs.

Wincing as he moved, he reached for her, this time resting his arm over her back. "I know you did, Sam. I know you would have fought. This wasn't your fault."

She leaned toward him and with his arm, he encouraged her closer until she was leaning against him clutching at his shirt much as a small child might. "But if I hadn't gone out… It's just the sort of thing Father worried about, warned me about but I get so bored at the guest house all the time and some of the girls from when I was at the MTC were going out and most of the guests were dining out tonight and I thought..."

"I know Sam; you're young and you deserve a bit of fun and excitement. The war has stolen so much from you. You should be planning your life, not living in fear and worry."

"Father would say I had far too much excitement working with you," she said through her sniffles.

Relieved that she seemed to be calming down, he smiled. "I might agree with him. But that's not the kind of excitement I'm speaking of. You should be out dancing and have young men stumbling over themselves and each other for the chance to dance with you. And they should take you to the cinema. A girl your age should have her choice of young men asking her to dinner and out for a Sunday picnic. This should be your time, Sam. The war has taken that from you."

"I'm not that young," she sniffed. "And I never had many fellows asking me out anyway," she confessed. "There was one or two when I was still in Lyminster. And there was Tony that time… and Andrew and Joe. A few others asked but I didn't like to go with them. But really, not so many. Being the daughter of the vicar sort of put the boys off when I was still home. And since I've been here, well…"

"Well... whut 'bout Adam?"

"I... like Adam, a lot. He's very nice and we get along well but... I'm not sure; everything's very unclear. And the guest house isn't doing that well really and I don't see his prospects... He'll be a success at something I'm sure, but I don't know what and I don't think he does either." Her brow scrunched into a frown. "And I can't see myself having much patience with his... floundering. I know it's not easy, settling in again after the war, but..."

"Sam, I imagine you can do anything you set your mind to. You've been an endless bit of surprises to me since the first day we met."

"Really? I thought I just irritated you at times. But now everything just seems so uncertain. Everything was quite clear when I came to Hastings, I had a job and was learning so many interesting things and meeting so many people and we were all working for the sake of all and now... I just feel like I'm adrift. I suppose if I cared very deeply about Adam, I wouldn't feel so lost. "

"The war, or more its aftermath. You didn't have time to think of these things when you should've been. And now... you're expected to suddenly know what it is you want out of life. And I'm afraid that this experience will put you off men and the idea of marriage altogether."

"Oh, I don't know... I... I'd like to marry sometime, I think. Have a family. But only if is with someone who loves me as a husband should love a wife and I can love him properly too."

"Wull, glad to hear it," he replied. "And...um, sure a lot of chaps around Hastings will be too."

She sat straight up, peering at him in the dark. "You want me stepping out with anyone in particular?"

"What? No. I want you to do what makes you happy, gives your life meaning. Although there is Adam... aand I had hoped Andrew… but he made a hash of that."

"Yes, well… I don't think it would have lasted in any case."

"Oh?"

"I um… well, I sort of realized sometime later that he wasn't the one for me. I sort of realized I was expecting him to be someone else."

"Then there was the young American," he replied evenly.

"Right and although I did like him, no… Joe wasn't the man I wanted either."

Foyle frowned as he wondered who she might be thinking of. "Well, Adam or whoever the chap is, he's lucky I'd say."

He sensed that she was almost smiling now. "You think so?"

"Oh Sam, of course I do. And soon all this will be behind you and you must let this young man know that you're interested."

"But he won't want me… after this. The doctor said there might be scars and… well, who wants a woman who has been… "

"Nnonsense. If Ad... if this young man of yours doesn't want you, well… then he's a fool."

"Oh no sir, he's no fool, but I just can't see how he would want me...now."

"Hhe would, Sam," if I were fifteen years younger I'd be at your door, "if he's as wise as you make him out to be and I certainly hope he is." And Adam strikes me a reasonably level headed chap. " Can't have you stepping out with a fool now, can we? You're far too bright for that."

She leaned against him again. "Thank you."

"Oh Sam," he said sadly. I wish this hadn't happened, "you should be safe in your own bed dreaming of this not too foolish young man of yours."

"Oh, I already do that… dream of him, I mean. And he really isn't foolish at all and maybe not so young either."

Foyle frowned in the darkness. Who could this mystery man be then? He might have thought of Milner sometime back, but now? No Paul was married and happily so. Had she had met someone else that he was unaware of? Well, whoever the man was, Foyle hoped he deserved someone as full of life as Sam, since she really didn't seem that interested in Adam, which brought him an odd sense of relief. "You think you can sleep now?"

He felt her nod and released her from his grip. "Alright then. I'm just across the landing if you need anything."

"Yes, I know. And … thank you."

"Nneed to stop thanking me Sam. Glad I can help in some way; just wish it wasn't needed."

Returning to Andrew's room, Foyle settled under the covers gingerly. His back and his head both complained about the jostling. Once he was reasonably comfortable, his mind began to wander, taking him back to the morning Sam had been bombed out of her billet.

He'd nearly choked on the fear that had washed through him when Milner told him about it. And as he'd watched Sam while walking up to her as she sat in her landlady's front garden, the reality of her close call made his knees weak to the point he knelt in front of her, asking after her and studying her face both to reassure himself she was alright and to give himself time to recover. It was that day that he realized he was falling in love with the girl and was only just absorbing the enormity of it when she mentioned the girl who had been killed was twenty three, a year older than Sam. The math had been simple. Sam was twenty two and he... was twice her age and then some.

He laid awake for some time, chewing the inside of his cheek as he contemplated the unfairness of it. After years of mourning and feeling so very alone, he'd finally found someone who might fill the void in his life. But the situation was entirely inappropriate then and continued to be now. Sleep did not come easily.