A/N: Well this is it! Thanks for all the reviews and to LauraRaposa for editing for me.

Chapter 5

Milner woke with a start and looked around to get his bearings. He was in a chair, the coat that had been tucked around his shoulders had slid down when he sat up but he recognized it as his own. The next thing he saw was his prosthetic lying beside his chair and then it all came back – the incident in the hallway, the pain and his unlikely Florence Nightingale, Mr. Foyle.

Milner frowned, ran a hand over his face and then glanced down at his stump to look at his boss' impressive first aid job. He felt a surge of embarrassment that his superior had been the one to look after him.

I offered him a way out, but Mr. Foyle insisted he stay and take care of my leg. He had hardly blinked when he saw the prosthetic or what was left of my leg. Maybe Jane's reaction to the injury was abnormal. Mr. Foyle has never minded, not when I was in hospital, not when I was on crutches, not the few times I've stumbled on calls only to feel Foyle's strong hands on my arm to steady me or help me up. And certainly not today when Mr. Foyle saw my battle scars from Trondheim.

Before he had time to consider this further, the man in question stuck his head around the door. "Ah, Milner. Glad to see you're awake."

"Yes. Hello, Sir."

"How are you feeling?" Foyle studied him carefully and was pleased to see that most of the pain lines seemed to have eased from Milner's face.

"Much, much better, Sir," Milner paused for a minute. He wanted to thank the older man but he really didn't know how to explain how much his actions had meant. "And thank you for, well, you know, all that."

"Ready to head home then," asked Foyle with what Sam called his upside-down smile.

Milner glanced at his watch and was surprised to see that it was nearly 5 p.m.

"Yes, Sir. Sorry I didn't realize it was so late. I didn't mean to fall asleep, especially not with everything that we needed to get done. I can certainly make up the time tomorrow."

Foyle held up a hand to stop Milner's self-recrimination. "Not to worry, Milner, nothing came up that can't be handled tomorrow. Now, why don't you gather your things while I grab my hat and coat? Superintendent Reid has offered to run us both home in his car."

"Very kind of him, Sir. I'll be ready to go in a few minutes."

Foyle nodded. "Good. I'll be back shortly." He pivoted, left the room and headed for Reid's office.

Foyle knocked and waited for Reid to call out, "Yes," before he pushed the door open.

"Had enough of those stray dogs yet?"

Reid looked up with a sigh. "Hours ago. You ready to go then?"

"Yes, Milner's up, and I just need to get my things."

"Excellent! Give me a minute to put away all this nonsense and I'll meet you at his office."

Five minutes later DCS Foyle and Superintendent Reid were assisting Detective Sergeant Milner out to the car.

Milner had tried to protest at first but he had been forced to concede that even with his cane, he wasn't going to be able to make it to the car unless he put on his prosthetic. He loathed the thought of that for although the pain had decreased he knew it would flare up again the moment the buckles were in place.

He instead chose to hop along propped up between Foyle and Reid as a flush burned at his neck. He waited for the stares and looks of pity, but it appeared that he had done his colleagues a disservice to think that they would respond in such a way.

Being that it was a little after 5 p.m. most of the day coppers had gone home but those that they passed and those working the night shift barely blinked as they said good evening to the three men.

Milner had never felt more grateful to be a policeman here in Hastings than he did in that moment when he realized that they honestly didn't care about his leg. They didn't define him by his injury but rather by his ability and his character. Milner felt a swell of gratitude toward everyone at the station, especially to the man currently supporting his right side. He was fully aware that without Foyle's insistence and support he might still be lying around in hospital weaving raffia baskets.

They were only a few minutes from the station when Foyle spoke up. "Hugh, could we possibly stop at the chippy on the way? I don't really feel like cooking this evening. It would only take a moment." He twisted in his seat to look back at his sergeant. "Would that be alright with you, Milner?"

Milner nodded. "Of course, Sir. I can't say I feel much like cooking this evening myself."

There was a slight pause at this open admission of his wife's absence and then Reid spoke up. "Alright, I'll stop but I expect a packet of chips for my trouble." Both his tone and his eyes teased, and Milner smiled, intrigued by this different side of his superiors.

Foyle sighed. "You always were a scrounger, Hugh." With a smile on his lips, Foyle glanced back at Milner. "I don't think one lift is suitable payment for a whole packet of chips, but if you agree to pick Milner and myself up tomorrow morning then you have a deal."

Reid laughed but agreed. "You drive a hard bargain, Christopher, but you're on. Now, off you go and make it snappy."

Foyle smiled again and climbed out of the car. Milner had been so absorbed in banter between the two men that he had completely missed the conspiratorial glance that had passed between them.

Milner was confused when a short while later, Foyle climbed back into car with three packages instead of the expected two and very surprised when he leaned around and handed one to him. "I got you a bit of cod. I hope that's alright."

Milner blinked at him for a few seconds. "That was very kind of you, Sir. But you didn't have to get me anything. How much to I owe you?"

He had already reached for his wallet but Foyle shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Milner. You can buy the first round the next time we go down to the pub, alright?"

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

Foyle just smiled, turned back to the front and began to make weekend fishing plans with Superintendent Reid.

Five minutes later when they reached Milner's house both men climbed out to help him inside and get him situated in the sitting room with his crutches. Foyle reminded his sergeant to be ready to be off at 8:15 the next morning. Of course, that assumed the Super was on time. Reid had objected to Foyle's implication, and the two men had left the house bickering back and forth like schoolboys.

Once they were gone, Milner leaned back in his chair and chuckled at the image of two of the most senior men at the station behaving like adolescents.

Before he dug into his fish 'n' chips, Milner closed his eyes to think over the events of the day. He knew he ought to feel humiliated by what had occurred but instead he felt oddly relieved. Today, his 'weakness' had been laid bare before one of the men he respected most as well as half the station. And instead of pity he had gotten support and kindness in return.

I'm not embarrassed about today. In fact, I'm rather grateful for it.

His stomach rumbled and he reached for his crutches to head to the kitchen.

Yes, I'm thankful for today…and some fish 'n' chips.

THE END