The rest of the day passed quietly with Andrew clinging stubbornly to his father, something Foyle was happy to oblige. Once Andrew had learned to walk he started to run within a week and the amount of time he got to spend with his son in his arms had decreased sharply.

Whenever Andrew was ill though he wanted to be held so Foyle spent the day reading storybooks and pacing up and down when Andrew's ear was too sore for him to settle. Rosalind, at Foyle's insistence, spent the day resting, even managing to take a nap on the settee when Andrew fell asleep in his father's arms.

By nightfall Foyle was more tired than he felt he should after a day off, but he reasoned that it was probably a combination of the end-of-case let down and taking care of Andrew and Rose all day.

Andrew was still fairly miserable but after catching up on the rest she had missed Rosalind seemed almost back to normal, which Foyle was very glad of. He had to go into work tomorrow and he hated the idea of leaving Rose to take care of Andrew when she was ill too.

When he woke early the next morning, once again stretched out on the settee with Andrew snuffling into his shoulder, Foyle's throat felt a bit sore but he put it down to the chill in the room and quietly got up to take care of Andrew and start breakfast.

By the time he left for the station, it had occurred to Foyle more than once that he might have caught whatever Rosalind and Andrew had. But even if he had there was a mountain of paperwork waiting on his desk that he need to see to before the weekend so he ignored the tickle at the back of his throat, kissed Andrew and Rose and went to work.

By noon his throat felt raw and the occasional coughing fits only made it worse and he didn't think the paperwork he had been slogging through all morning was entirely to blame for the way his head was pounding. Foyle sighed and got to his feet. 'Probably just tired and hungry; lunch should help.'

He was almost out of the station when he ran into Inspector Bradshaw who frowned at him, "Foyle, are you all right?"

"Yes Sir."

Bradshaw looked him up and down and shook his head; "I wasn't born yesterday Foyle, you look like hell. You've finished most of the paperwork for the case?"

Foyle nodded, "Yes Sir, just a few things I was going to see to after lunch."

"Right, bring it to my office before you leave and then go home."

Foyle opened his mouth to protest but Bradshaw held up a hand. "You did a good job on the last case Foyle but I can see that it cost you, can't have you infecting the rest of the station. It's Friday anyway, get on home and let your wife take care of you. I don't want to see you till Monday morning."

Foyle hesitated for a moment and then nodded, "If you're sure Sir?" The inspector nodded, "Thank you Sir, I'll fetch that paperwork now."

When he came through the front door, the first thing he heard was Andrew crying and the throbbing in his head increased sharply. "Christopher?" Rosalind called from upstairs and Foyle hung his hat and coat before going up.

Rosalind was standing in the doorway of their room, Andrew on her hip, when he reached the landing and immediately frowned at the sight of him. "Christopher, are you all right?"

Foyle nodded, forcing a weak smile as he crossed to her and held out his arms to take Andrew, "I'm fine Rose, just tired."

"Dada!" Andrew cried and Foyle couldn't help wincing at the volume as he pressed a kiss to the top of Andrew's head. "Hello Andrew"

Rosalind's frown deepened, "You've got a headache don't you?"

There was no point denying it, not when she knew him so well. "Yes a bit of one, but I'll be fine Rose."

Rosalind still looked concern as she moved to kiss his cheek, "Are you just home for lunch?"

"Err no, Bradshaw gave me the rest of the day off, said he didn't want me infecting the rest of the station if I were ill, which I'm not."

"Well in that case we'd better take good care of Daddy so he's feeling better by Monday hadn't we Andrew?" Rosalind murmured as she kissed Foyle again and then the top of Andrew's head.

"Dada ow?" Andrew asked, looking between his parents, his little brow furrowing in concern.

His parents smiled reassuringly at him, "That's right Andrew, but don't worry we'll take good care of Daddy, just like he took care of us."

"Tiss?" Andrew asked, "Tiss Dada owie?"

Rosalind smiled and leaned up to press a kiss to Foyle's temple, "Good idea Andrew, I think a cup of tea, some lunch and maybe some aspirin will help too." Andrew nodded, and pressed a rather wet kiss to his father's cheekbone, "Tiss Dada!"

Foyle smiled and kissed Andrew and then Rosalind, "Thank you both, I feel better already."

Rosalind smiled and headed downstairs while Andrew snuggled closer, resting his head on Foyle's shoulder, one hand creeping up to play with his collar. "Twains?"

"How about we have lunch first?" Foyle suggested, "then we can read all about trains." Andrew nodded against his shoulder and Foyle couldn't help pressing another kiss to the top of his head as he carried his son back downstairs.

An hour later Rosalind emerged from tidying the kitchen to find both of her boys fast asleep in Christopher's armchair. She smiled fondly and quietly crossed to remove the book from Christopher's lax hand and spread a blanket over them both.

Christopher stirred, adjusting his grip on Andrew as the little boy pressed his sore ear more firmly into his father's chest before settling again. Rosalind watched them for few more minutes and then crept from the room, leaving them to the sleep they clearly both needed.

That night found them all in master bedroom as Rosalind had insisted that Christopher needed to sleep in a proper bed and Andrew refused to settle unless he was in his father's arms. So Foyle fell asleep with his son on his chest and his wife curled into his side and a smile on his lips.

Coming home to an ill wife and son hadn't been the ideal end to a long week, but Foyle knew as long as he had them both to come home too, there was nothing they couldn't weather together.

The End