Kindred Spirits

Rating: Teen

Standard Disclaimer: Foyle's war quite rightly belongs to Anthony Horowitz, its genius creator and the brilliant cast and crew who brought it to our screens and I'm only borrowing some of the characters for fun.

Summary: Andrew returns home from the war to heal an estrangement with his father and Sam, only to unexpectedly run into another woman from his past. Parings: Foyle/Sam, Andrew/OC. Borrows canon characters, dialogue and plotlines from Eagle Day, Bleak Midwinter and All Clear.

Authors Note: Wow! Three reviews in less than 24 hours, 2 of them from well-established greats of the genre. Thank you very much as I'm quite flattered by the response and the agreement with some of my observations. Don't worry about the lack of Foyle and Sam, the next few chapters will be full of the two key protagonists of the series as their tales are weaved in my alternate vision. I know it was Brookie who Sam saw first in Bleak Midwinter, I just switched it to suit the story.

Chapter 2: May 1945/ December 1942: Cry Havoc and Let Loose the Dogs of War

Andrew grinned at the sight of Sam looking at him in disbelief before she reached out with a much stronger grip than he remembered and pulled him inside before she shut the door. Pulling him into the living room after Andrew had dropped his kit bag she was very quick to admonish him as Sam hissed, her dark eyes glaring into his own.

'Andrew Charles Foyle, have you got any bloody idea how worried your father and I have been? 2 years with not a dicky bird.'

Despite the anger in Sam's eyes, Andrew couldn't help but joke.

'Wow, the full name treatment! I don't think I've had that out of dad since I was out of short trousers.'

A stinging slap to his face brought him back to the reality however as Sam continued her tirade.

'You think this is funny Andrew?'

Andrew grimaced and began, 'no, look Sam, I know I was stupid but that letter just came out of nowhere and he expected me to just suddenly accept the fact that he was marrying a woman half his age without so much as a by your leave? I tried to write and apologise but one thing after another stopped me and before I knew it I got demobbed.'

Sam sighed, 'sorry Andrew, I shouldn't have hit you but….'

'No, it's alright Sam I deserved it. Here, I brought you flowers.'

Andrew passed over the bouquet and Sam's face turned up into a smile.

'Oh Andrew there lovely, where did you get them?'

'Oh the little place over on _Street, Mrs Roberts gave them to me. Apparently all the demobs have been clearing her out. '

Sam's face was curious, 'what were you doing there Andrew? Hardly the place I'd expect to see you go into.'

'Mum took me a few times when I had to help her carry shopping, Mrs Roberts has got a niece who was in the WAAF. An old friend of mine actually, and I ran into her on the way here. Took me for a cup of tea and insisted I tell her what was wrong.'

'Sounds like a nice girl, do sit down while I find something for these.'

As Sam walked over to the kitchen, Andrew sank gratefully into the familiar armchair where he remembered many fireside talks with his father. He gazed about the room which looked almost as if it hadn't changed beyond a few new framed photographs showing Sam and his father and the usual paraphernalia which tended to accumulate around houses with small children.

Sam came back and sat on the settee before she fixed him with a look of doubt as Andrew asked.

'Where's dad? I know he's got the day off on Saturday's and he usually does his fishing on a Sunday.'

Andrew saw the smile return to Sam's face, 'oh he's upstairs checking on the girls, he should be down in a minute.'

Sure enough, Andrew saw his father come down the stairs with a smile on his face which widened as he caught sight of his son.

'Andrew.'

Andrew smiled, 'hello dad.'

There was a pause as the two men surveyed each other before the elder remarked.

'wwarm welcome?'

Andrew saw his dad's eyes lingering on his reddened cheek and waved it off, 'it's alright dad, and I definitely deserved it. I know I was an absolute beast about you and Sam and in fact, once I thought about it I realized that the two of you make a good match.'

'Rrright, glad you think so, little late some might say.'

Sam added, 'might? Definitely would be the word I would choose Christopher.'

Andrew saw the teasing smile his father directed towards his wife as he said.

'Wwell, at least he's here and in one piece and we can be grateful for that. Caro and Rosie deserve to meet their brother, they'll be needing a good protector to beat off the boys when they're older. Doesn't mean he gets off Scott free however.'

Sam giggled and Andrew smiled at the byplay between the two, 'How did I miss this? In hindsight it's as clear as bloody crystal.'

Andrew spoke up, 'I owe you both an explanation and in fact I've been more or less ordered to give you one.'

'Wwwell, how about we have dinner and you can tell us everything, there's a lot I should probably tell you as well. Lucky I caught so many trout as between you and Sam I doubt our larder will withstand the siege for very long.'

'You know me darling, I need the energy to keep up with you and our girls,' was Sam's teasing response.'

An arched eyebrow was his only reaction and Andrew couldn't help but laugh as he said.

'I should have encouraged you two to go to Gretna Green years ago, this is just uncanny. Does god do a special side business of sending the perfect women to lonely police officers?'

'Tempting as that would have been Andrew, I'd have preferred not to have been attacked by my new in laws as soon as we returned. Iain would have probably strung me up when he found us.'

Sam giggled, 'he would never, he would at least have given you a head start.'

A few hours later the proud parents brought down two identical cherubs who looked a bit over a year old and put them into their highchairs for their dinner and Andrew goggled at the sight of the two treasures as they both instantly stole his heart. Both had Sam's curly blonde hair and freckles and his father's steely blue/grey eyes and apparently the curious personality of both parents as both twins immediately fixed their gazes on him, seemingly sizing him up.

'They're adorable dad, better get your gun polished and ready.' was Andrews praise as he grinned down at them both, watching as Sam fed them.

Dinner proceeded amiably and Andrew enjoyed the fresh trout that was served and while helping his dad clear up, the elder Foyle asked.

'This just a visit, or are you back for good?'

Andrew grinned, 'I'm not flying anymore, had a touch of sinusitis, well more than a touch. It was bloody painful, after I got out of hospital I was on desk duty for a while until they decided to send me home. But let's wait for Sam before we swap stories, I'd rather only tell mine one more time today.'

With the dishes dried and put away, Andrew followed his father into the living room where he noticed a bottle on the shelf.

'Full bottle of scotch, where on earth did you get that?'

'Well it's bourbon.'

'Aaah, Americans.'

With a carefully measured glass in his hand, Andrew relaxed as Sam came back down from settling the twins to sit beside his father, and soon Andrew began to tell the same story he'd told Anne earlier in the day. Andrew saw his father's impassive face during the telling and had no idea what he was thinking, Sam on the other hand was much easier to read. The compassion clear in her eyes as she surveyed her stepson.

When he'd finally finished his story Sam was the first to speak.

'I'm sorry Andrew, now I think about it we probably should have done more to help you understand. It all happened so quickly, I couldn't stand waiting any longer. It was a bit rotten of us to think you'd accept it without question.'

Andrew finally asked the question that had been on his lips for over two years, as he grinned at her 'so, how did you give my father the push out of the door Sam?'

Andrew saw the same look of twinkly eyed fondness that he'd seen directed at him many times as he'd been growing up as his father looked at his wife as he spoke.

'Wwell, I suspose it all began one morning when Sam tried to impress me with an interest in classics and her powers of observation.'

December 1942:

'You've found something, haven't you?' Sam asked cheerily as she kept her eyes on the road as they neared the destination of the munitions plant where the suspicious explosion had killed Grace Philips.

'Have I?'

'I can always tell, you have this look, a sort of "cry havoc and let loose the dogs of war."

After a few moments silence she continued, 'that's Julius Caesar.'

'Slip,' Foyle corrected fondly, 'its "let slip the dogs of war."'

A moment later the pair were interrupted by the hissing sound of steam billowing from the bonnet of the Wolseley.'

A prim curse of 'oh, hell,' was Sam's reaction when she realised what had happened to the car entrusted to her care once she'd stopped and gotten out to inspect the engine grill.

'Radiator?' was the only word her employer needed.

Sam nodded wanly, 'radiator.'

'Oh no, now look what I've done, and right on Christmas too. It'll be a miracle if I can get it fixed before New Year's.'

'Looks like I'm on foot from here.'

'I'm sorry sir.'

Foyle waved it off, 'can you make it as far as a garage?'

'I hope so,' was Sam's response as she gazed at the stricken car which was leaking more steam than a kettle.

Sam watched with a heavy heart and a fond smile as her employer smiled at her and walked away towards the factory.

'Could he have been any sweeter about this? That old dragon would have roasted me and had me for lunch if I'd split a radiator, even if it wasn't my fault.'

Settling back into the driver's seat, Sam restarted the engine and drove slowly, keeping a wary eye on her temperature gauge as she looked for a garage. A short while later she spotted one and so pulled the Wolseley to a halt outside the premises of an N&E Johnson from which she could hear the sounds of metal being beaten at a forge. Walking through the door she found a familiar looking young man hammering at a piece of metal whom she soon remembered.

'The funeral, he was the one who made that speech.'

'Hello,' she greeted, 'I'm sorry to bother you but it's my car.'

'I wondered if you could help, it seems I have a split radiator.'

'Sorry, I can't to nothing for you, it's a private garage and we're full,' was his dismissing response.'

Sam tried her next idea. 'Well if you could seal it even briefly, you see this is a police vehicle so it sort of takes priority.'

'You the police?' There was an edge in his voice now that made Sam a bit nervous.

'Yes,' was her answer, 'do I know you from somewhere?' She stepped forward, 'I do don't you, you were at the funeral, you're Grace Philip's friend.'

'What of it?'

'Well you seemed so obviously upset, you were going to be married?'

'Maybe.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Why was you there?'

'Well it is difficult to explain.'

'You was there, and now you're here. What's your game?'

Same felt more nervous as she saw him step closer brandishing a heavy piece of metal.

'Nothing, I told you my car's broken.'

'Nice and convenient.'

'I was near here and I saw your garage first and if you're too busy to mend it, I quite understand I'll just take it elsewhere.'

'You're not going anywhere.' He demanded

'Now wait a minute,' Sam pleaded.

Another young man entered and did his best to try and talk the first one down.

Sam's eyes widened in terror as a fight soon began as the first man tried to attack her before the second shoved her aside and urged her to get out. Adrenalin surged through her and forgetting the car she ran, terror giving her wings until she found herself running through the door of the police station.

Foyle had just dismissed the traitorous PC Perkins and had bade Sergeant Brooke to put him in a cell when he saw his normally vivacious and neatly turned out driver run right into the station as if she was being pursued by the very Devil himself.

'Oh my god! Who or what did this to her? Oh my dearest Sam, I'm so sorry.'

'Sir, he's mad, he's quite mad!'

Her eyes caught his and she ran right into him and began to cry unrestrainedly into his shoulder.

Foyle gently wrapped his arms around the slender young woman crying into his shoulder and whispered soothingly.

'Sssh, it's alright Sam, it's over, and you're safe now. I'm here and you're going to be fine.'

Brooke had clearly come back from putting Peters in a cell as he called out urgently.

'Sir, is Miss Stewart alright?'

Foyle looked over her shoulder and said, 'nnno, I'm not sure what's happened here but what's clear is that she's had a nasty shock. Get one of the constables to make some tea, use my sugar if you need to and bring it to my office and then you'd better get onto Hugh. If we've got a dangerous criminal we might need to get permission to use firearms once we find out who did this. I'll take care of Sam, it's my fault she's in this state.'

Brooke sped off to carry out his orders, but took one look at the sight of his boss whispering soothing words into Miss Stewart's ear.

'Cor blimey! What ever 'appened must've been bad to do this to 'er. I just hope the boss doesn't let morality get in the way, she need's 'im bad. Them two should just tell each other they're mad about each other and 'ave done wiv it.'

Passing a couple of constables on the way to the super's office he hissed to Harrison.

'Biggles, get some tea made, quick like and get it to the boss's office. You know how Miss Stewart takes 'ers, give 'er the boss's sugar ration cause I know she's run out and he said to. Oh and knock before you take it in there.'

Harrison nodded and sped off towards the station kitchen as Brook continued towards the super's office.

Meanwhile Foyle gently led Sam inside his office and shut the door as the flow of her tears began to lessen before he drew a chair and gently guided it beneath her and urged.

'Here Samantha, sit down now, thaat's it my dear.'

While her breath was still coming in hiccupping gasps, she looked to be slowly settling down but it was a while before Foyle was able to draw away long enough to get his desk chair and place it besides Sam's before he gently lifted her chin so that she was looking into his eyes and began with a heavy heart.

'I'm sorry Sam, this is my fault, but if you feel up to it can you tell me what happened?'

Some measure of her strength had returned as she fixed him with a steely glare and said, 'no Christopher, this was not your fault and don't you dare say otherwise.'

Momentarily taken aback by her brazen use of his Christian name he was caught off guard as she took a deep shuddering breath and continued.

'I found a garage, not far from the munitions plant and I found Grace Philip's young man. As soon as I mentioned the fact I worked for the police he went totally off his rocker and he tried to kill me. The only reason he didn't was because another man came in and shoved me aside.'

Sam's eyes widened and a fresh wave of tears emerged, 'Oh no Christopher, he's probably dead, he died because of me!'

She broke down again and Foyle gathered her into his arms and rubbed her back.

'No Sam, he died because this man killed him, not you. You were just unlucky to be in the right place at the wrong time.'

Despite her shock, Sam gave him a watery smile, 'don't you mean the wrong place sir?'

'No Sam,' said Foyle fondly, 'thanks to you I'm pretty sure who killed Grace, and Jane Milner and we have a location we can search to find out for what his plans might be and what his name is. If we're very lucky we might even find him and arrest him when we get there.'

Sam took a deep breath, a nervous look on her face as she looked at her boss.

'I can't stand this any longer, I have to tell him. I came so close to death today, to die without at least telling him how I feel would have been…'

'Christopher, there's something I need to tell you….'

Foyle perked up and looked deeply into her eyes which had always shown affection, mischief, happiness and so many sunny emotions that he'd long associated with her now bore a new look, one that he hadn't seen directed at him since his beloved Rosalind had passed away.'

'Is she about to…? Surely not, she's had to beat the young men off with a stick since she's been stationed here. Half the uniforms in the station are probably in love with her, she wouldn't want to waste herself on someone like me.'

A knock came at the door and Sam sighed as Mr Foyle bade the visitor to enter revealing the moustachioed form of Constable Harrison bearing a rattling tea tray from which he drew two cups and placed them on the desk close to the two occupants in the room.

Sam gratefully drank hers, feeling quite flattered when she realised that her dear Christopher had indeed given up his sugar ration for her and she felt in somewhat better spirits when Brookie came in a few minutes later and said.

'Sir, the supers been on the blower to the brass, you have got permission to use firearms if necessary.'

Sam saw Christopher nod grimly to Brookie and order in his usual calm tones.

'Get a squad ready, we'll head to the garage as soon as Sam's feeling up to directing us to it.'

Brookie hurried off and Sam turned back to Christopher, 'just give me a few minutes to fix my hair sir. We can't let that murderer get away with this.'

Foyle laid a hand on her shoulder and said, 'take as long as you need Sam, don't you worry, he will face justice, I promise.'