Once again, there will be dialogue straight from the series. And once again credit must go to Horowitz and the others who created this exceptional show.

Many thanks for the reviews. Keep them coming folks, they feed the little plot bunnies and keep me typing.

A part of Christopher Foyle was happy to have Sam back in the car with him as they investigated, but a greater part of him worried about the possible dangers. They had faced several when she was his driver during the war and had been shot at and chased when he'd allowed her to go with him to London to find the young Russian. And he he was again possibly putting her in danger. He had no way of knowing, however, that Sam would encounter something much less straight forward than any of the bombs or other dangers she avoided during the war.

As the investigation led them to Marc Vlessing and they approached his building, Sam asked "How're we going to get in there?"

"With a key," Foyle replied as he pulled one from his pocket.

"Where'd you get that?"

Remembering a similar conversation early in her tenure with him, Christopher answered, "I 'liberated' it."

"Is this quite legal?" Sam was somewhat surprised by his insouciance about it but then remembered his praise of her for lifting the pub owner's keys. "Well done," he'd told her.

"Well, it's not at all legal, but the security service doesn't seem to have much regard for the law," he replied dryly as he stepped through the door to the building.

They'd only been poking about Vlessing's flat a few minutes and Foyle had just sighted an important piece of evidence when the door burst open and men in masks barged in, taking them into custody and shuffling them off to a building that was obviously a a part of security services.

Foyle blanched when he was told that they had been exposed to radiation. He insisted that Sam be taken back to her flat immediately. The whole case was a muck up and now he had allowed her to be exposed to such horrifying danger. He was angry with Hilda Pierce and even more so, himself. On the other hand, he'd watched Sam come back to life while they investigated. And somewhere in the back of his mind the idea began to grow that perhaps a match between them wasn't quite so unthinkable.

Once he'd had the time to sift through the information he'd gathered and put the final pieces of the puzzle in place, catching the head of MI5 in the net and uncovering Sam's former scientist boss as a spy, he wanted to bolt from Pierce's service and return to a quiet life in Hastings. As they rode in her car following the is departure from the home of Sam's former boss, she approached him about staying on with her agency.

"I'll come straight to the point. I want you to stay with MI5," Hilda Pierce told him.

"What on Earth makes you think I'd do that?" He wanted nothing more to do with her service.

"Well, you always wanted to be part of the Service," she replied.

"I applied once during the War and was rejected," he reminded her. "They had their chance."

"This is no time for hurt feelings. This is business. You're very good at what you do, and I'd like to work with you." Her tone nor her inflection changed not at all.

Dourly Foyle responded, "I haven't got the requisite capacity for deceit."

"Precisely. I need someone I can trust."

He worked his mouth as he responded. "Well, that would be mutual."

Dipping her head in concession, Pierce rejoined. "Point taken. Oh, come on, Foyle. what's the alternative? What are you going to do the rest of your life? Fish? Bigger fish to be caught here."

"Nnup, not just fishing. Plenty of fish big enough in the river though." he answered. "Have other plans as well." Might just be the one on the hook now...

That evening Foyle took Sam to dinner at a quiet place he'd found near his hotel. "I'll go home to Hastings now," he told her over the starters.

"Jolly good," she said with forced enthusiasm.

"Right. And what are your plans now?"

"I don't know really. Find a job, I suppose. I thought London might be a good place to sort of hide away until after... well, the baby. But without a job I can't stay here long."

Christopher watched as various emotions played over her face. She'd never really been very good at hiding her feelings but tonight he was finding her especially easy to read. What struck him the most however, was how so very much she had matured in the months he was away. He supposed what happened to her was responsible for much of her change. Sam would always be Sam with cheerful enthusiasm but the naiveté was gone. His mouth twitched as he considered the shift; he would miss that. "I ththought it might be about time to um, have that talk?" He felt vulnerable, his emotions far too exposed but if there was to be any hope he knew things must be said.

Her eyes brightened immediately as her head lifted to look across the table at him. "You, you mean that talk you mentioned before you left for America?"

"Yes, that one," he replied uneasily. "I um, I've been thinking, as I suggested you should do as well. Aand although I still can't see how it would be to your benefit in the long term, I erm, I thought that... well, if you are still interested we might... well, take up... together?" Even he could hear the worried timbre of his voice.

The face that beamed across the table from him now was one he hadn't seen in some time. Her eyes lit like candles and all the worry of the past months seemed to simply fall away in an instant. "Oh, I say... that... that's amazing," she said happily. "I thought... well, I never dared hope, after what you'd said before you left," she smiled and sighed. "Oh this is jolly good, marvelous. Oh Christopher... I can call you Christopher now, can't I? I mean it would be awfully awkward if I just kept calling you Mr. Foyle or sir, wouldn't it?"

Bolstered by the obvious happiness expressed by the woman who was certain to be the last love of his life, Christopher simply sat contently and watched the heartening emotions play through her. You've done this, you old bugger. You've brought the joy back to her... you. Maybe it'll work after all. At least for awhile. Anything to make her happy... just you remember that when it comes time to let go.

Then suddenly she deflated again. "But if you're in Hastings and I'm here or... somewhere else, how can we? I mean, we couldn't very well step out together if we're in different places."

This time it was Foyle who smiled, a small one at first but slowly it grew until the corners of his mouth began to turn down. "Nnot talking about stepping out, Sam. We've known each other long enough and seen one another in enough different circumstances; I think we both know the landscape. Tthought we might marry, if you'll have me?"

Sam stared at him, stunned. "But, we can't... the... the baby..." and then tears began to trickle down her face.

Sam recognized the pensive, almost anguished look that came over his face as he looked away. She watched as he seemed to have an internal conversation. She'd watched him in profile so many times and always enjoyed the examination, but just now as his eyelashes fluttered she was struck at how beautiful he was. Oh, not in the way a woman might be beautiful of course, but in his own very masculine and yet very vulnerable way. She observed when his inner conversation seemed to conclude and his gaze turned back to her. "Sam, are you certain you don't want the child? Bbecause if you are planning to have it adopted because ... well, what people might say or..." He paused as the waiter brought their next course.

"I can't," she cried once they were alone again. "Don't you see, it would be ..." she paused as she fumbled for words.

"If we are married at the time of the birth, then legally it would be my child, Sam. And I wouldn't abandon it, or you. But if you truly think you can't bear to keep it, then I will help you, of course."

"Are... are you saying you'd let me keep it?" She was astounded.

"If it is what you want. But more than just let you keep the child; I... I'd be its father, if you'll let me? I'd expect to... to raise it just as I raised Andrew. Wull, except you'd be there with me, of course."

Studying his face, she sought answers. Her own face revealed just how taken aback she was and how confused she was. "Sam, you need to be very certain what it is you wish to do. If you honestly don't want the child, there is no shame in it. But if you find you do want the child, then I am prepared to be a father to it. I am not speaking from pity, just... wull, " he looked at her hoping she could see what he was feeling, see how much he cared for her. "I'm asking you to marry me for all the usual reasons a man wants to marry a woman, Sam."

Foyle watched as she absorbed it all. Her eyes narrowed in thought and she opened her mouth to speak but took a deep breath instead. "No, I can see that it isn't pity. But I'm not sure... about... What I mean is... why?"

Her question confused him. The waiter's return with another course gave him time to collect himself. "Why not?" he asked with wide eyes once the server was gone. "Just a minute ago you were quite eager, I thought... to step out together at least."

"I... was," she said as she looked down sorrowfully. "But then I remembered..."

"The baby," he concluded. She nodded her head in affirmation. But her eyes remained downcast and tears continued to seep from them slowly. Reaching across, he covered her hand with his. "It isn't a problem for me." Grimacing at his own ineptitude, he scrambled to find a way to explain. "What I mean to say is that the baby is a part of you, Sam. It's that which would make possible my caring for it." When she still didn't look up, he knew he had to say more. "Oh my darling girl, don't you realize how very much I care for you... love you? And because I do, I will love your child too."

Slowly her head came up and she looked at him with sorrow filled eyes. "But it isn't yours and the way it... those men... it was so..." She let out a muffled sob. "And I'm... I'm not worthy of your... love."

"Mmore the other way round, I would think, I'm struggling too Sam, to believe you care for me... tthat way. Wwhat those men did to you disgusts me and angers me. But that is down to them. Everything about you brings me happiness and comfort. And should you decide to keep the child, I shall see you when I look at it, not those men or what they did to you. But whether you keep it or not, I... wull, I just can't imagine not having you around. I've become... well, rather attached to your presence. Ccan't begin to tell you how much I missed you while I was away."

The tears abated as she listened and watched his face. He saw when she made her decision. A look of acceptance came over her face. "If you truly mean all that, then yes... I would like to marry you, very much."

His lips quirked downward in the distinctive Foyle smile as gratification sank in. "As soon as we can then?"

She nodded, a ghost of a smile lifting at the corner of her mouth. I...I'll need to tell my parents, of course. But I don't think I'd care to wait for the big wedding my mother will want to plan."

"Right, wull then... the magistrate then? Perhaps before we leave London?"

"Oh yes," she said brightly.

The rest of the meal went quickly. "See you back to your flat?" he suggested as they stepped out of the cafe. "That would be lovely," she replied as she hooked her arm through his. As they walked along the pavement toward her place, Christopher reflected on how delightful it was to have a woman on his arm again. It had been too many years, he thought as the loneliness of those years began lifting from his shoulders.

His mind was whirring however, as they walked along. Sam was almost six months along. She was hiding the pregnancy well but soon it would be impossible. And returning to Hastings with a heavily pregnant but very new wife would be difficult to explain for them both; especially if she decided to give up the child. Better to travel a bit, let the child be born elsewhere, and then return to Hastings, he decided.

Spying a small park, he suggested they sit for a moment. They found a bench near the entrance and settled. Foyle shared his thoughts about when to return to Hastings and asked if she had a place in mind for the birth of her child. Sam admitted that she hadn't really thought it through but seemed to agree with his thoughts.

"Alright. I'll apply for a license and then you can give your parents a date," he said.

"Right," she said uneasily as she fidgeted with her hands. "I'll have to tell them, I suppose. I just... it won't be easy."

"And the baby? Will you tell them about that?"

"No!," she declared so abruptly it startled him. "I...I couldn't. And anyway, it would only make my father believe you married me out of pity... or worse, he'd think you had... well, that I'm PWP because of you."

"Sam, if you decide to keep the child then I would sincerely hope that is exactly what everyone would think."

She looked shocked. "Oh no, they mustn't think that! No, you're far too honorable to... to do that."

Christopher grinned sorrowfully at her. "You're a very clever girl, Sam; but I don't think you've considered the mathematics of my life. Rosalind was over eight years younger than me when we married and was just twenty one when Andrew was born, six and a half months after our wedding..." He paused to let that sink in and then told her something she couldn't have known anything about. "Aand in 1917, when I was recovering from a wound, I met a nurse. She was married but we ... well, ... she was very beautiful and I... " he closed his eyes against the wave of emotions that washed through him whenever he thought of Caroline. "She um, had a son, went back to her husband when she found out she was pregnant; thought it would be best for the child. But she died when he was a boy and his father was... well, not a kind man. I met her son just before I left for America and although I always knew in all likelihood he was ... well, after meeting him I think it is almost certain that I fathered him. And as it happened, the man who he had called Father, killed his mother. Point is that I'm not as purely honorable as you seem to believe. I've loved, truly loved three women in my life, possibly four. And I've never been particularly patient about ... waiting." His gaze at her was pointed, full of meaning, an expression she knew very well.

"That many? Golly... " She looked away for a moment and Christopher could see her running the tally in her mind so he was prepared when she asked her question. "Four?"

Fighting to contain the smile that quirked at the corner of his mouth, he looked away for a moment. Then bringing his gaze back to her, he let the smile blossom simply because he could not contain it. He loved this dear girl so very much and it made him happy just to look at her. "You remember when you drove me to the dinner at Arthur Lewes' house? It's where I met Howard Paige. "

"Yes, the barrister," she replied with an eager nod.

"Right. His wife, Elizabeth grew up near Hastings. I courted her... before the war, the first one. Asked her father for her hand. But I wasn't good enough for his daughter and we went our separate ways. I met Arthur later through our jobs and when he found out Elizabeth and I were acquainted, he sought friendship. Elizabeth and Rosalind were acquainted before too, so it was impossible not to... But then he moved up to London and it all seemed to settle, at least for me. I was far happier with Rosalind than I believe I ever could have been with Elizabeth. I learned that night at the dinner that she named her second son Christopher." Seeing Sam's eyes widen, he smiled. "Not mine," he said quickly. "But as I watched her that night, I realized I would have been miserable with her and so I believe I have her father to thank for saving me from that."

"But you thought you loved her?"

"I was still wet behind the ears, Sam. I didn't understand, truly understand what love is. Caroline and later Rosalind showed me."

She seemed to be absorbing all he had said. He was a little amazed with himself that he had spoken so openly and freely with her about it all. But he wanted her to understand, to know who he really was. And that wouldn't happen if he kept it all inside. Rosalind had taught him that. "So you see, there's a bit more to me than what you thought. Still want to marry me, Sam?"

"Trying to back out?" she asked.

"Nup, just giving you fair warning."

"Actually, I was thinking... since you have a history of impatience and I'm already PWP..."

He tensed as he leapt ahead of where she was leading. "Sam, you don't have to... it might be too soon for you, after... what happened."

Her brow furrowed in her wonderfully Sam contemplative expression. "The doctor said I've healed from that, everything's tickity boo. So I don't see the problem unless... well, you'd rather not because I am PWP."

"Not that, Sam. But I meant, wull... what happened is bound to make it a bit off putting, I would think... that particular activity."

"What those men did, it wasn't love. They didn't care about me they just wanted... well, you know. And... and it's true that I don't think I could take lightly having a man touch me.. like that. Not that I ever did before but... " She pressed her lips together as thoughts formed in that adorable head of hers. "I can't imagine anything better than being taught that part of love by... you."

His lips turned downward in a smile as he let her meaning settle over him. "Wull, I thank you for that, Sam. But I'm 'fraid you might be 'specting bit much? I'm teetering on old age and not up to teaching much of anything there, I would think."

"What I expect is for you to be as considerate of me in that as you have been in everything else.," her eyes were pleading with him.

"Might be able to just manage that," he replied. "But suppose we begin with simple things, a little kissing and petting? Mmmm?"

"Oh jolly good! I like that," she answered brightly.

They finished the walk to her flat arm in arm and he kissed her goodnight, a warm loving kiss but nothing untoward in his mind. Remembering the words of Dr. Josephson months before, Christopher knew he shouldn't press, no matter what Sam said.