A/N: Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews for the first chapter! Really made my day! Thanks also to LauraRaposa for editing this chapter for me.

As always I own nothing but my own imagination and I look forward to hearing what you think :)

Chapter 2

After about 10 minutes, Milner opened his eyes and was surprised to find DCS Foyle sitting quietly in a chair in front of his desk.

"Sir?" asked Milner.

"Any better, Paul?" asked Foyle with worry in his voice. Milner ducked his head slightly, touched by the older man's concern.

"Yes, Sir." He felt Foyle's steady gaze and looked up and forced a smile. "Really, Sir, it's just…" Whatever assurance Milner had been about to make was cut off by a throb of pain that stole his breath.

"Shall I call a doctor?"

Milner shook his head, jaw clenched tightly against the pain. "No, Sir. This does happen from time to time. They warned me it would. Nothing for the doctor to do." The reply was choppy, interrupted by Milner's ragged breathing. Foyle's frown deepened.

"So what do we do then?" He hated to see the younger man in this much pain but also he had no idea what he could do to help.

"Just wait, it will pass it always does. You don't have to stay, Sir. I'll be alright."

Foyle frowned as he tried to work out if Milner meant he would like to be alone or if he believed Foyle would want to leave and was giving him a polite excuse to do so. He watched the younger man shift in his chair to find a more comfortable position. Then frowned as a thought occurred to him. Surely he would be more comfortable with his prosthetic off. Is that why he wants me to leave?

Foyle cleared his throat to ask: "Wouldn't it be best if you, err, removed your prosthetic? I can leave if you prefer and I'll make sure you aren't disturbed but if it will help …" He trailed off, unsure if he had overstepped his bounds as a flush crept up Milner's neck.

The silence stretched and Foyle fidgeted slightly with his collar. "I'm sorry, Milner, I…."

"No, no, Sir, you are quite right. It's just…" Milner paused and looked down at his lap before he mumbled, "It's, um, rather hard to take off by myself when it's like this." He spoke very quickly, and by the time he had finished he was red-faced and avoiding his boss' gaze.

Foyle chewed his lip for a minute as he tried to work out how best to respond. "Right, well, why don't I go and see how Reid's getting along with the tea, and then we can go from there?"

Foyle sensed that Milner needed a minute alone to consider his boss' help with such a private act. Moreover, it would make the prosthetic removal more awkward if Hugh were to walk in with tea in the middle of it.

Milner just nodded, eyes down, still embarrassed by his confession. Foyle must have noticed because he paused at the door and said quietly, "You were quite right to tell me, Paul. We'll sort this out after a cup of tea, alright?"

There was no pity in Foyle's voice just his customary compassion and honesty, and Milner felt his shoulders relax slightly in relief. "Yes, thank you, Sir."

Foyle nodded once and then stepped out into the hall and closed the door quietly behind him. He ran a hand over his face, suddenly relieved that his driver, Samantha Stewart, was back home in Lyminster this week to attend a friend's wedding. As well intentioned, brave and practical as she always was, Sam's energy could exhaust those around her. Besides, Milner would have been more embarrassed if Sam saw him falter in the hallway.

The absence of a driver over the past few days forced he and Milner to hoof it through the streets of Hastings. And while the exercise hadn't bothered Foyle, he suspected the situation might be the cause of Milner's discomfort.

Foyle cursed himself for his lack of consideration towards his sergeant. Granted, he did most of the legwork, so to speak, but Milner had been out and about more than usual this week.

I must figure out how I can limit Paul's physical exertion without making him feel his role was being diminished because of his injury.

He ran a hand through his hair, and then headed off towards the station's little kitchen to see about that tea.

"How is he, Christopher?" Reid asked as he poured water from the kettle into the teapot. Hugh kept his voice low and the concern was evident.

Foyle ran a hand across his forehead. "Much the same. You've put sugar in his tea?"

Reid nodded. "Yes, two spoonfuls in his. We'll go spare. Have you sent for a doctor?"

Foyle shook his head. "No, apparently it wouldn't help. He says this happens from time to time. Nothing to do but wait."

"Christ," hissed Reid. Foyle wasn't the only one who was sickened by how much Milner's war injury plagued the poor man.

"Agreed," whispered Foyle. "Would you kindly bring the tea along to the office? I need to grab a bowl of warm water and a towel."

Reid nodded and quickly gathered the mugs while Foyle began to fill an enamel bowl with water and seek out a clean towel in the drawers. Thus laden, the two men headed back toward Milner's office.

Foyle's knock was answered by a somewhat strained "Yes." But when he opened the door, the DCS was pleased to see that Milner looked a bit more composed.

Reid walked straight over to the desk and set down two cups of tea. He placed the sweetened one closest to Milner with a simple, "There you are."

Milner reached for the cup and took a sip of the strong, sweet brew. "Thank you, Sir," he said to the Super with a weak smile.

Reid smiled back. "Not at all, Sergeant, now I'd best get back to work. The Assistant Commissioner is breathing down my neck for the monthly report and not all of my sergeants are as diligent about turning in legible reports as you are." Reid shook his head in mock despair - that got another small smile out of Milner - before he turned toward the door with a nod to Foyle.

Foyle nodded back. "Please tell the desk sergeant we aren't to be disturbed, won't you?"

Reid nodded and quietly let himself out of the room.

Foyle placed the bowl of water on the corner of the desk before he sat down and reached for his mug of tea. He studied Milner surreptitiously over the edge of his mug and was pleased to see that some of the pain lines appeared to have weakened.