The knock on the door on Friday evening surprised Foyle; he had been expecting Andrew since the afternoon but his son had no reason to knock. Yet when he opened the door Andrew was on the doorstep, "Andrew"

His son grinned, "Hello Dad"

Foyle stood aside to let him in, taking the opportunity to study him and frowning at what he found. Andrew looked exhausted and run down, there were dark circles under his eyes and at least a days worth of non-regulation stubble that couldn't hide the way his cheekbones stuck out sharply from his too thin face.

It made his heart ache and the ever-present knot of worry in his stomach tighten but all he said was, "Good to see you"

Andrew turned from hanging his hat and coat, "And you Dad, glad you were home. I got down here and realized I'd forgotten my key."

Foyle rolled his yes, "Of course you did. Have you eaten?"

"No, I was flying this morning" He scrubbed a hand over his face and smiled a little ruefully, "Didn't have time to clean up, hopped out of my spit and headed for the train."

Foyle nodded, a worried furrow creasing his forehead, "Right, I'll fix you something; your chair's where you left it."

Andrew grinned, "Thanks Dad, I'd better go wash up first" Foyle nodded, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as Andrew clapped him on the shoulder as he moved past him to take his kit bag upstairs.

When Andrew came back down he was once again clean-shaven and had exchanged his uniform jacket for a jumper. He devoured the supper his father had made and insisted on doing the washing up before accepting a tumbler of scotch and sinking into his chair with a sigh. "Thanks Dad" he took a sip, "So how are you?"

Foyle forced a smile, "Not too bad, sounds like you've been busy?"

Andrew nodded and took another drink of scotch, "Yeah, bloody Jerry" he winced as his father raised an eyebrow, "Sorry Dad, bad habit. Conversations in the dispersal hut aren't really fit for polite company."

Foyle tilted his head, lips twitching up at the corner, he was hardly one to judge not after what he'd said and heard in the trenches 25 years earlier. "Good to get some leave then"

"Yeah, I wasn't sure it would come through but Turner's good that way when it comes to family things. Everything still set right? Mrs. Reid's well enough?"

"She's fine Andrew, Hugh's still hovering of course but the neighbours are helping out with the housework and cooking so she's getting lots of rest." Foyle took a sip of scotch, "They're very happy you could be down for the christening."

Andrew nodded, "So am I. How are the girls getting on? Gracie's alright with not being the youngest any more?"

"Seems to be, they're both quite taken with Jimmy from what Hugh's said. Although apparently they draw the line at helping with his nappies."

Andrew laughed, "That sounds more like Gracie's rule than Maggie's. They write me all the time Dad, telling me about school and things; I wish I had time to write back more."

His expression was fond and a little wistful and Foyle nodded understandingly, "They know you're busy Andrew, Hugh and Elaine have told them enough that they understand that much."

Andrew sighed, suddenly looking years older, "I know Dad it's just…" He hesitated and took a sip of scotch, "I just worry sometimes, they're so young Dad and if…"

He broke off staring down into his scotch but Foyle had no difficulty following his train of thought and he shivered, the now familiar fear of losing his son making his blood run cold. For several minutes they sat in silence and then Andrew looked up and forced a smile, "Been to the river lately?"

They talked quietly about nothing of consequence as they finished their scotch the tension slowly bleeding out of Andrew's shoulders until the sound of a car sputtering on the hill had him halfway out of his chair before he realized what it was an sank back again, running a now shaking hand through his hair, "Sorry, thought it was…" he shook his head, "Stupid..."

Foyle shook his head, "Not at all." He waited several minutes, surreptitiously studying his son as he toyed with a button on his open waistcoat and when the silence and shaking continued he cleared his throat quietly, smiling reassuringly when Andrew looked up, "Tea?"

Andrew nodded, his smile tight and forced and Foyle laid a hand on his tense shoulder as he passed, squeezing gently and wishing there was more he could do. The tea seemed to help, as did a quiet discussion about poetry and when Foyle returned from his study, book in hand, he found Andrew fast asleep in his chair.

He stood in the doorway his sharp eyes taking in the way that even asleep Andrew seemed poised for action. As a boy he had slept spread eagled on his back, something that had enabled him to take up most of the space in his parents' bed as a toddler. Now he seemed to be trying to take up as little space as possible, his long legs crossed at the ankle, his head propped up on one hand and Foyle was certain that if a car backfired in the street Andrew would be on his feet in a minute.

He swallowed hard, trying to take comfort in the fact that Andrew was as safe of the rest of them for the time being. Finally he turned and silently made his way to the kitchen.

Once he had a fresh cup of tea he crept into the lounge, not wanting to disturb his son's much needed rest but also unwilling to leave him alone; after all in 3 days Andrew would return to his squadron and there was no telling when he might get leave again.

He made it to his chair before Andrew jerked awake, "What?" He blinked, frowning at his father, "Dad?"

Foyle smiled reassuringly, "It's alright Andrew, you're home on leave son. I'm sorry I woke you"

Andrew shook his head; "It's alright" he stretched and rubbed a hand over his face, "How long was I asleep?"

"Not long," Foyle glanced at the clock, "You want to head up to bed? Sure you were up early"

Andrew yawned, "Yeah I was but" he shrugged, "This is nice" he looked around slowly, "I worry sometimes that I'll forget…" his eyes landed on his mother's picture and he scrubbed a hand roughly over his face, "I mean some days it's hard to remember…"

"Why?" Foyle's voice was soft, his eyes warm with understanding and Andrew nodded, rubbing at his eyes again and suddenly looking like an exhausted little boy, not an experienced RAF pilot.

It was clear Andrew didn't want to be alone and Foyle was certainly not opposed to spending more time with his son. "Why not move to the settee then, more comfortable than the chair. I can read some of this" he lifted the book of poems he had gone to retrieve, "If you like?"

Andrew nodded and got to his feet, yawning as he shuffled the few steps to the settee before toeing off his shoes and curling up on his side. He didn't seem the least bit uncomfortable sleeping in his clothes and Foyle realized that he must be flying so often that he was used to it.

He chewed on his cheek, pushing down the recurrent wave of fear, the knowledge of how very often his son was in imminent danger, and crossed to cover him with the blanket that always stayed on the back of the settee. Andrew shifted slightly, murmuring "Thanks Dad" and Foyle couldn't resist tucking him in more snuggly.

Andrew smiled and Foyle crossed back to his chair, taking a long drink of his now lukewarm tea to ease the lump in his throat and then opening the volume of poetry, flicking through it until he found what he knew was Andrew's favourite Tennyson poem.

"The varying year with blade and sheaf

Clothes and reclothes the happy plains;

Here rests the sap within the leaf

Here stays the blood along the veins."

Andrew was asleep before he finished the first section but Foyle read on, hoping the familiar words might hold the nightmares at bay and unwilling to go to bed himself. When Andrew jerked awake with a half strangled cry several hours later Foyle guided him upstairs and tucked him into bed as if he were a little boy again.

Sitting on the edge of the bed Foyle wished that he had the power to guard his son against all the evil in the world. As it was he tucked Andrew in again and smoothed the hair back from his forehead one last time before rising and quietly going to his own room, careful to leave Andrew's door ajar so he would hear if he had anymore nightmares.

When Andrew held Jimmy for the first time his face lit with wonder, just as it had with the girls, but there was also a tightness around his eyes that Hugh hadn't expected.

He was ready to chalk it up to Andrew being a man as opposed to a boy until Andrew brushed a gentle finger down the baby's cheek murmuring "Hello Jimmy, I am so glad I got the chance to meet you at least once."

The utterance seemed to suck all of the air out of the room until Grace laughed, blissfully unaware of the implications of Andrew's words. "Silly Andrew! You'll see Jimmy lots! You have to teach him to ride a bike like you taught me and Maggie and Mummy says he has to grow before he can learn."

Andrew chuckled wetly, "That's right Gracie"

His voice was rough with emotion and Christopher was studying him worriedly from under furrowed brows and Hugh wondered what else he could read in his son's face. Elaine clearly thought there was more because she gave him a meaningful look before saying brightly, "Girls come and help me with tea please"

Once they had left the room Hugh looked back at Andrew and Jimmy. Andrew had pulled the blankets back slightly and was studying Jimmy's face as if he were trying to memorize it and Hugh felt his heart break when he realized he was; Andrew honestly thought this might be the last time he'd be home.

He looked across at Christopher and knew, by the way his lips were pressed together so tightly they were going white, that he had reached the same conclusion.

It was devastating and Hugh prayed, for the millionth time but more fervently than he had since the night Jimmy was born, that Andrew would return safely once this ghastly war was finally won.

"You're a strong one aren't you Jimmy?"

Hugh smiled reflexively at the words and the smile growing when he saw that Jimmy was holding one of Andrew's fingers.

"He's got a good grip doesn't he?"

Andrew nodded but didn't take his eyes off his soon to be godson; "I remember Gracie did as well and Maggie" he chuckled softly, "she wouldn't let go of me the first time I held her. I think it must have been the only time I willingly missed tea for something other than sports back then."

Hugh laughed, relieved to see Christopher smiling fondly at his son, "Well hopefully Jimmy won't keep you from your tea today, not when you've gotten special leave just to meet him."

Andrew smiled, "Well I wouldn't be much of a godfather if I didn't at least meet him ahead of his christening now would I?"

His tone was light but Hugh saw the doubt flicker in his eyes and he squeezed his shoulder, "Andrew, Elaine and I would have asked you to be godfather if you'd been posted to Australia with no hoping of getting back for the christening."

"The war make everything a challenge and we're not expecting you to suddenly be able to visit or even write more than you already do. As we told you all we wanted to do is make what you already are to the girls a little more official with Jimmy."

There was a pause as Andrew took this in and then he nodded, looking down at the baby in his arms and then back at Reid, "Thank you, it means…I'm honored." His voice was a little rough and Hugh squeezed his shoulders again, "No, thank you Andrew."

The moment was broken by Grace racing back into the room ahead of Maggie and Elaine and immediately crossing to Andrew, "Andrew, can we go to the park?"

Andrew looked questioningly at Reid who nodded and then smiled at Grace, "Of course we can Gracie but not until after tea alright?"

Grace nodded and turned to Foyle, "Are you going to be at church for Jimmy's christening tomorrow Mr. Foyle?"

Foyle nodded, "Yes, I am Grace"

"Good. Jimmy likes you"

Foyle's lips pulled down into a soft smile, "That so?"

Grace nodded, "Yes, he told me so. Mummy can…may I have a biscuit?"

"After you finish your sandwich yes, you may. Andrew, let me take Jimmy while you get some food."

Tea passed pleasantly with the girls chattering away about everything and nothing while Andrew took Jimmy back as soon as Elaine would let him, looking honestly relaxed for the first time since he arrived.

A/N: The poetry Foyle is reading is from "The Daydream" By Alfred Tennyson