Writer's Note: To all those who've stuck with this story - thank you so much for your patience and steadfastness. I've left a more fleshed-out update on my profile, but I thought I'd quickly let you all know - this chapter is a bit shorter than the previous two chapters, but I wanted to get this up before I got sucked back into the black hole that is my academic life. I hope the shortness of chapter won't deter anyone - particularly since it's been such a while since the last chapter.
Any who, that's enough rambling. Thanks for reading, loves! :)
Waking with her legs tangled in momentarily unfamiliar sheets would have shocked Sam, had she not first felt the warm arm draped around her middle. There was a broad chest closely situated against her back and a reassuring slow breathing behind her.
After a moment of blissful relaxation she noticed that Foyle had already dressed, with a pressed, crisp white sleeve under her touch. She was confused and turned to look into his eyes. They opened and smiled down at her as only Foyle's eyes could.
Yes, he had fully dressed. All that was missing was a tie.
'Morning, love' he said, his voice couched in early-morning gruffness.
'Hello' she said, smiling. She felt a shaggy mess compared to him, though she didn't particularly care.
'You alright?' he asked, eyebrows twitching slightly as though he anticipated a negative.
'I'm wonderful, thanks,' she said, 'but why are you dressed in bed?'
He took a deep breath.
'Wullll, I woke about 20 minutes ago and thought I'd get myself in order, but, em… saw you here and… wanted to come back to you.'
His ears were a bit pink and one of his eyebrows lowered in embarrassment, but she smiled widely as she took in his words.
'You'll wrinkle your shirt,' she said, secretly hoping he wouldn't care enough to move.
'Doesn't matter. 'Ts not particularly important. Not right now.' He squeezed her affectionately around her middle and she felt goose bumps rise along her arms as she stretched against him.
'Good' she sighed, much to his amusement.
They took a few minutes to listen to the breeze drifting in from the open window, remembering what had happened last night.
Unfortunately, Sam was becoming increasingly aware of the stiffness in her neck coming back, only now it felt immobilizing. She tried to gently turn her head to her left side, only to feel every inch becoming increasingly difficult and painful.
Foyle noticed and reached up to place a hand to her shoulder.
'Anything I can do?' he asked softly.
She signaled with a very unconvincing, stiff little head shake. He looked skeptical.
'Let's go,' he said suddenly, pulling away from her and walking over to his wardrobe. She clutched the blanket higher over her arms, trying to replace the warmth that had just disappeared.
She had to turn herself entirely to watch him as he selected a tie from his collection.
'Not that one,' she said hoarsely after he'd selected a red one. He looked at her, surprised.
'Don't like it?' he asked.
'Just not with that waistcoat. Makes you look like a magician,' she said.
He narrowed his eyes playfully and twisted his mouth as he replaced the tie in its drawer. He picked out a dark green hounds tooth.
'Better,' she said after he wordlessly asked her opinion with a raised brow. He closed the drawer and began to tie it about his neck as he walked over to her side of the bed.
'What time is it?' she asked, closing her eyes.
'Time to take you to a doctor,' he said matter-of-factly.
She pulled his pillow from behind her and over her face.
'I told you, I'll be fine. Just let me rest and I'm sure it'll mend'
'Oh, is it much better this morning then?' he asked sarcastically.
She struggled to conjure up a witty remark, so she scoffed dejectedly instead.
'You're impossible,' she murmured.
'Always stubborn with my loved ones,' he said casually before kissing her shoulder.
Damn, she thought, peering out from under the pillow as he left the room. I can't be angry with that.
_
'You alright to drive, Sam?' he asked as they walked toward the car.
'Unless you'd rather we walked,' she said cheerily. He gave a rueful crooked smile.
'Wouldn't mind at all, if you'd prefer it,' he said.
He seemed to be pushing slightly, as though he didn't want her to return to the wheel.
'I did fine yesterday, didn't I?' she asked somewhat defensively.
'Wull, yes, but-'
'So we'll drive,' she decided, opening his door for him. For a moment he stood, looking her in the eyes and reading her expression. She was determined – obviously, this was Sam, after all. He finally gave up, and his brows seemed to shrug as he took his seat.
The doctor Foyle had called was roughly ten minutes from his house. Foyle would have preferred to wait out in the car, but Sam had proven relentless in her insistence that he wait inside.
'I don't want to go in all alone,' she said, sounding almost like a child.
'Why? I can't go in with you, you're a grown woman, they'll think-' her expression interrupted him as she raised her eyebrows in anticipation of his next words.
'That we've done something very naughty?' she asked, placing mockingly posh emphasis on the word. It had the desired effect – the corners of his eyes creased uncomfortably as he shifted in his seat.
'God,' he muttered to himself, glancing out the window.
She chuckled before turning warm and reassuring.
'But we haven't done anything wrong,' she said. He shifted again and turned his eyes toward the dashboard in front of him. He brushed his index finger absentmindedly across his lips, silently informing Sam that he didn't believe her. He stayed silent.
She then held his hand gently and waited until he returned her gaze.
'We haven't,' she repeated, this time very softly. Her eyes smiled and he became lost in them for a moment. Slowly, beautifully, he smiled as well.
'Come on, let's get this over with,' she said suddenly before climbing out of the car. He closed his eyes and then joined her in walking her in to her appointment.
Her examination took no time at all. The doctor checked her breathing and all the usual guff before running his hand up and down her spine. She had a few vertebrae slightly out of place, which he corrected with a well-orchestrated prod that made Sam want to strike him. But after her adjustment he gave her his diagnosis and recommendation that she 'take things easy for a bit.'
Goodness, what a brilliant plan, she thought cynically, sliding from the exam table and fastening up her uniform jacket.
It pained her to see Foyle nervous for her. As she left the office and saw him waiting for her by the door she thought she caught a glimpse of what he'd been like when Rosalind was ill – fretting silently, resigned to the fact that things were out of his hands and hating every minute of helplessness.
Perhaps that's why he worries, she thought sadly.
When she'd left him waiting here she'd been struck by how stoic he'd become, sitting with a newspaper he'd hardly read.
Now, when she saw him look up at her, raising that brow of his, she saw two men: She saw the man she fancied, her boss, the one everyone thought they knew so well. Then there was this new man - perhaps the truest one; the man who kissed her shoulder and neck, whose breath caught in his chest when she shuddered against him - who lounged in bed without clothes on, his arm resting over his head as he surveyed her, unfiltered passion misting his blue eyes. The man who was more than just his mind.
He stood as she turned to shake the doctor's hand. He was ready to know the diagnosis.
'Just a pinched nerve,' she said in hushed tones as he handed over her hat and gloves.
He ducked his head conspiratorially and surveyed her from under furrowed brows.
'What about your forehead?' he asked, still quietly. He tried not to remember how he'd reverently kissed that cut on her brow the night before – or any of the other places he'd kissed her.
'Nothing to worry about,' she said.
'Nothing I can do?' he asked gently, before peering out of his peripherals as though to ensure no one from the station might have followed them.
'I think not,' she said as she snapped the fastenings of her gloves. "Just said to use heat and cold… and that it will mend itself," she added rather smugly.
He gave her a familiar sardonic look as he held open the door for her.
'Still, no harm in asking for a diagnosis,' he said, settling into the car and adjusting his hat.
'I know, sir, and I'm jolly grateful,' she said, professional habit returning swiftly as they returned to their usual morning routine.
Sam would have given anything to make the drive to the station twice as long. Their silence was comfortable and somewhat intimate and she'd noticed one or two side-glances from the passenger seat she'd have loved to return. As it was, she was too afraid to take her eyes off the road.
But as they walked into the station Sam felt as thought everyone was staring at her. Indeed, Bookie and one of the other desk sergeants seemed to look at her swiftly when she entered, as though they'd been talking about her.
She was then put at ease when Brooks ran out to her from behind the desk.
'You alright, Miss Stewart?' he asked, looking concerned.
'Sargeant Milner told us about what happened with the car. We've been worried sick.'
'Oh, yes, I'm fine, thanks' she said sheepishly, removing her hat and casting her eyes down in embarrassment.
Foyle smiled for a moment, knowing how uncomfortable such attention made her. He then patted her shoulder kindly before walking to his office.
The rest of their office hours were uneventful – a few calls, reports filed, arrest warrants granted, and a drive planned to take him to Hill House to close the case. By now he'd also learned who had dismantled the Wolseley, though Foyle made sure not to bring that up when Sam inevitably asked about it.
In the meantime Sam prepared his tea in the galley, thinking about the night before like she'd promised herself she wouldn't. It was proving impossible to not mix her yesterday's personal experiences and today's professional decorum. Though they'd both been respectable and unassuming, Sam caught her mind wandering more than once when she saw him pass her in the hall, noticing his broad shoulders and wanting to touch them again.
Foyle was equally distracted. He reminded himself not to look too fondly at her when others were near, and when the two of them were alone he had to keep her at arm's length. He was glad she was being professional, yet occasionally his mind wondered in her direction and he envisioned her sitting in the corner of his office, her eyes shining as they had this morning.
Particular moments stood out to him at different times throughout the day. Around 3 p.m. as he read another interminable Home Office memo ("We request that you cease inquiry into ... blah blah blah ... confidential ... etc.") he heard Sam laughing from down the hall. Her voice was glorious and joyful, and he was reminded of how she'd sounded when they were alone. Her exuberance. Her passion. Her indescribable vulnerability.
'Tea, sir?' she asked suddenly from the doorway, shaking him from his reverie.
'Uh, yes – thank you, Sam' he said, moving a file out of his way as she set the tray on his desk.
She smiled slightly at his flustered expression.
'What's the matter?' she asked.
He had to thinking of something, but for once he wasn't coming up with a good excuse. He saw her genuine concern and gave up entirely.
'... Just... Thinking. About last night,' he said this last part so quietly that even the most curious of eavesdroppers might not hear him from behind the closed door.
She smiled, a warm glow seeming to emanate from her as she blushed happily.
'Yes, the weather was lovely last night, wasn't it?' she said.
He was confused for a brief moment before he realized she was intentionally being illusive. He closed his eyes for a moment, wondering how he'd let his guard down in his own office.
'Yes, it... ccccertainly was,' he said with a slow blink up in her direction.
'I hope it will be lovely again tonight,' she went on, putting his empty cup and saucer together before picking up the trey.
He smiled despite himself.
He thought she would return to the galley, but she remained standing there a moment longer.
'Are we going for a drive today, Sir?' she asked.
He paused, wondering if she was still being illusive or if she was serious. He quickly deduced that it was the latter.
'Yes, actually. I need to go to Hill House.'
'Will we need backup, or is it all very hush-hush?' she asked.
'Hush-hush' he said, smiling quickly at her.
That was enough for Sam, and she left the office noticeably happier than when she'd entered.
He followed her with his eyes. He could tell she had something in mind, and his heart raced when he considered the possibilities.
