A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, the feedback if much appreciated. Thanks also to LauraRaposa for editing this chapter. I hope you all enjoy it and please let me know what you think

Chapter 7

The desk sergeant shook his head at the RAF Commander's inquiry, "I'm sorry, sir, but Detective Chief Superintendent Foyle isn't in yet today and he wasn't in yesterday neither."

Wing Commander Turner's face tightened, "I see."

"Can I take a message, sir? I'm sure Mr. Foyle will be sorry to have missed you."

The Commander shook his head. "I'm afraid the nature of the message is such that I wish to deliver it in person if possible."

Sergeant Rivers felt his heart sink slightly. It was common knowledge around the station that the boss' only son was a fighter pilot and that many squadrons had suffered heavy losses. Rivers hoped that the Wing Commander hadn't come to deliver bad news. He had watched the DCS age overnight when he lost his wife and shuddered to think what the loss of his only son would do to the quiet man they all respected. "I understand, sir. Could you leave a number where Mr. Foyle can reach you?"

Commander Turner hesitated. I've broken protocol by just being here. It looks like Flight Lieutenant Foyle will have to face the consequences of his actions. He sighed and said, "No, thank you, Sergeant. I will be on my way."

Turner made for the door only to be stopped by the sergeant's urgent voice. "Just a minute, sir, here's the man who would know best. Superintendent Reid, Sir, this is Wing Commander Turner of the RAF. He's looking for Detective Chief Superintendent Foyle, Sir."

The Commander turned to see a tall man in a police uniform striding toward him, hand outstretched. "Wing Commander, I'm Superintendent Hugh Reid, please come this way," he said as he directed the military man into his office. "We can speak in here."

Reid closed the door behind them, rounded the desk and sat down, gesturing for Turner to do the same. "What can I do for you, Wing Commander? I understand that you are looking for DCS Foyle?"

"Yes, I had hoped to speak with him about something rather urgent but I understand that he is not in today."

Reid nodded. "No, he hasn't come in yet today. Might I be of service to you?"

Turner shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Superintendent. It is a rather sensitive matter. If Mr. Foyle is unavailable then I'm afraid I will take my leave."

He moved to stand but Reid put up a hand to stop him. "Forgive the intrusion, sir, but does this in anyway relate to Mr. Foyle's son, Flight Lieutenant Andrew Foyle?"

Turner nodded. "It does, indeed, Superintendent, but I am not at liberty to tell you more than that."

Reid nodded. "I understand sir, but I also know that Mr. Foyle will be anxious to speak with you about anything regarding his son. If you can spare a moment, I will ring him at home. If he is unable to come in, perhaps it could be discussed over the phone?"

Turner hesitated then nodded. Reid rang the familiar number and said a silent prayer that Christopher would pick up the phone.

It rang twice before Christopher's crisp voice answered, "Foyle here."

Reid breathed a sigh of relief. "Christopher, it's Hugh."

Foyle glanced at his watch and instantly felt guilty for not ringing him earlier to say he had no intention of working today. "Hugh, awfully sorry. I was going to ring…"

Reid cut him off. "Christopher, Wing Commander Turner is in my office. He hopes to meet with you about something rather urgent."

Foyle felt his heart rate suddenly increase. Andrew's CO? It must be about Andrew being AWOL, but why would he come to see me? Aloud he said, "Um, can he wait? If you send a driver I could be there within 15 minutes."

"Hold on, I'll inquire." Reid looked up at Turner and asked, "Are you able to wait Commander? DCS Foyle is eager to meet with you and can be here within the quarter hour."

Again Turner hesitated. He was fully aware of how his superiors would react if they found out about his visit but at the same time he did not to lose a good young pilot when it felt avoidable.

He nodded, and watched the Superintendent's shoulders relax as he spoke into the black Bakelite receiver. "He said he will wait, Christopher, yes. I'll send a car around at once."

Reid rang off and smiled at Turner. "DCS Foyle asked me to pass on his thanks. He will be here directly." He stood. "Now, if you'll excuse me, sir, I need to dispatch a car to fetch him. May I bring you a cup of tea? You are welcome to wait here or in Mr. Foyle's office."

Turner stood as well. "A cup of tea would be much appreciated. Thank you, Superintendent. And if you will show me where DCS Foyle's office is located, I will wait there so you can have your own back."

"It's no trouble, sir, but if that's what you'd prefer, his office is just along that hallway, his name is on the door. Milk and sugar in your tea?"

Turner nodded. "Yes, thank you, Superintendent, if you're have some sugar to spare, that is."

Reid smiled. "I'm sure the lads left a teaspoon or two in the bowl this morning. No trouble at all, Commander, I just have to speak to the desk sergeant first."

Back at Steep Lane, Foyle had hurried upstairs to fix his tie, grab his jacket and check on Andrew. The first two tasks were soon completed and he found himself hesitating in the doorway of his son's bedroom. Andrew was still fast asleep despite it being almost noon.

The younger Foyle had slept better last night, with only one nightmare. As in the previous night, he had settled quickly with his father's touch and soft words. Foyle didn't want to wake him, but he didn't like the idea of Andrew waking up to an empty house.

He crossed to the bed and carefully sat by Andrew's hip, running a hand through his dark hair. "Andrew?" He spoke softly as he didn't want to wake his son fully, but just enough so that he could explain his departure. "Andrew?"

"Mmhhm?"

"That's it, son. Wake up a bit for me." He kept his voice low and was rewarded when Andrew opened his eyes, still heavy with sleep.

"Dad?"

"Yes, I'm here. Listen, Hugh called and I need to go into work for a bit. I'm not sure how long I'll be but my business there shouldn't take too long."

"Is everything alright?" Andrew's voice was thick with sleep but there was an edge of concern.

"Yes, everything's fine, I just didn't want you to wake up to an empty house. Now go back to sleep, that's my boy." He continued to stroke Andrew's hair as he spoke and was relieved to see his son's eyes slide closed and his breathing even out. He waited several more minutes until he was sure Andrew had returned to the Land of Nod then slipped quietly from the room and downstairs to wait for the station car.

In 10 minutes, with Constable Thompson at the wheel, Foyle was delivered to the front door of the Hastings Constabulary. Thankfully, Foyle's curious and chatty personal driver, Samantha Stewart, was on a call down at the docks with his sergeant, Paul Milner.

As he pushed through the door into the lobby, he found Hugh Reid pacing like an expectant father by the front desk. "You certainly made good time, Christopher."

"Yes, well, Thompson's driving helped with that. Where is the Wing Commander?"

"He's in your office, said he'd rather wait there," said Reid. "I got him some tea."

They had turned down the hall toward Foyle's office as they spoke and were now just outside the door. The DCS put his hand on the doorknob but paused as Reid placed a hand on his shoulder and lowered his voice. "I'll be in my office, if I can help in anyway…"

Foyle nodded, "Thank you, Hugh." He then took a deep breath and pushed open his door.

Turner had heard the muffled conversation outside and stood as the door opened to reveal DCS Foyle.

"Mr. Foyle, forgive my impertinence but the Superintendent assured me that it was alright to wait for you here."

Foyle waved off the apology as he quickly took off his hat and coat. "He was absolutely right, Commander. I appreciate that you were willing to wait. I hope I have not detained you too long from you duties."

"Not at all, sir."

They sat for a minute in awkward silence before Foyle spoke. "I understand that your visit has something to do with Andrew?"

Turner nodded. "Yes, I regret to inform you that your son has been absent without leave for the past day and a half."

Foyle worked hard to keep his expression neutral as he felt Turner studying him careful.

"According to regulations," Turner continued, "I shouldn't be here, and I most certainly should have reported him to the RAF police."

"So am I correct in assuming that you have not reported him then, Commander?"

Turner nodded again. "Yes, you are correct, Mr. Foyle."

"And why is that?"

Turner sighed and looked down at his cup for a minute before meeting Foyle's gaze. "I am sure you are aware that over the last few weeks the number of RAF and Luftwaffe engagements over the channel has increased almost exponentially." Foyle nodded. "And you probably also know that our current success in repelling the German offensive has come at high cost. Much too high a cost."

Foyle nodded again, the list of RAF dead in yesterday's paper had been one of the longest he had seen, and even without that, the look in his son's eyes over the past two days had told him everything he needed to know.

"During this time your son has proved himself to be a good pilot and an even better leader and he has saved the lives of his squadron mates many times." Turner paused, picking his words carefully. "But given the lack of experienced pilots and the losses that our squadron has suffered it has also meant that Andrew has flown more ops in a short space of time then I believe he should have been required to."

"Well, I can honestly say I would be happiest if he never flew again, but how exactly does this relate to Andrew being AWOL?" Foyle knew, of course, how much this had contributed to his son's desertion but he wanted to know what conclusions Turner had drawn.

Turner sighed. "I think it has everything to do with it, Mr. Foyle. There is a limit to how much we can ask of these young men, and I believe Andrew has reached it."

Foyle nodded, choosing his words with care. "I would be inclined to agree with you, Wing Commander. He certainly wasn't himself when he was home on his most recent pass. But, forgive me for being blunt, what exactly do you intend to do about it?" I'll be damned if I'm going to turn over my own son to be court martialed. But Turner does seem like a reasonable man.

"Well, I've already told you what the regulations would demand I do," Turner said with a rye smile. "But if I can speak with Andrew, and if, in my opinion, he is suffering from flying stress or combat fatigue, I might be able to get him transferred from ops or at the very least a few weeks leave."

"What would he be doing if he wasn't flying ops," Foyle asked.

"I would recommend him for a training post," the Wing Commander replied. "He has done a stellar job with the younger lads in our squadron, really taken them under his wing, if you'll excuse the pun. I think he could excel as a training instructor and, most importantly, it would take him out of the line for a bit."

Foyle studied Turner carefully for a minute before he spoke. "If I were able to arrange for you to meet Andrew, would he still be charged with desertion?"

"Not by me," said the RAF commander, shaking his head. "Although I would have to meet with him this afternoon. Any longer and the other lads in the squadron will start asking questions and I'll have no choice but to report him."

Foyle nodded. "I see." He chewed on his lip as he studied Turner, pleased to note that the man met his gaze squarely.

He certainly seems to be a good man but do I dare trust him with Andrew? I've trusted him with my son for the past few weeks and Andrew was returned to me a broken man. But then again what choice do I have?

Foyle cleared his throat. "You make a convincing case, Commander, and I appreciate your concern for Andrew." He paused as he tried to decide how much he should say to his son's commanding officer since he didn't want to embarrass Andrew but he wanted to make sure Turner understood his son's fragile state of mind.

"Andrew came home two nights ago more upset then I have seen him since his mother died," he said finally, his voice harsher than he had intended. Turner flinched.

"You must hate me," said the officer, his voice tinged with guilt.

He really does care.

"No, Commander, I hate the war," said Foyle. "I hated being part of the last one and hate what this one has done to my son. I do not know if it is 'combat fatigue' as you call it, but I can say that I do not think he is ready to fly any more ops at present. If, for no other reason, than the fact that he is exhausted."

"Lack of sleep is one of the most serious concerns," Turner nodded. "Too many pilots only get four or five hours a sleep a day between ops and briefings. And Andrew often spends the time he should sleep in conversations with the younger men, especially if there has been a bad op. He has taken his role as squadron leader very seriously, Mr. Foyle, and he is damn good one, but it has come at a cost."

Foyle couldn't agree more, despite the pride he felt at the Commander's honest praise of Andrew. Foyle had seen what his actions had cost his son. The guilt that weighed so heavily on the squadron leader's heart mixed with the sorrow in his eyes, spoke of a man who had taken on heavy burdens that were not his to carry.

"Andrew was still asleep when I left the house, but if you were to come by in an hour or two he might be ready to meet with you," said Foyle. "Would that be acceptable?"

Turner nodded. "Yes, Mr. Foyle. I am sorry to have to insist upon seeing him today when he clearly needs his rest, but I truly cannot put it off any longer."

"I understand, Commander, and I truly appreciate your understanding. I know that it is not just Andrew's career at risk here."

The Commander shook his head. "They are all so young, Mr. Foyle, these brave young men that I ask so much. I would take their place if I could. But the very least I can do is look out for them on the ground." Turner stood. "I need to return to base but I will call by your house around 1400 hours?"

Foyle stood as well and walked with Turner to the front desk where he held out his hand. "Thank you again, Commander, I will see you later."

Turner nodded, put on his hat, and shook Foyle's hand. "Good day, sir."