Everything was a wreck and the sound of steam escaping from the hood of the Wolseley went unnoticed for almost a minute. Foyle was shaken, and it appeared Sam had momentarily lost consciousness, her head pressed against the wheel, hands still frozen at 10-and-2.

He adjusted his hat, taking quick inventory of his faculties and ensuring he wasn't injured before swiftly turning to Sam. He saw her face was bloodied from the impact, and his heart seemed to stop for a split second. She couldn't have died from an accident like this… could she? No, surely that wasn't possible. Still, for a moment he didn't know what to think.

Then her shoulders moved. As she regained consciousness, he realized he hadn't breathed for several seconds. The relief was palpable.

She looked bewildered as she lifted her head and surveyed the situation. Her head felt as though it were split in two, and as she touched her forehead she was frightened to find blood streaked across her leather glove. Still, that didn't matter now, what mattered was that her boss hadn't been injured. She couldn't forgive herself for endangering them both. She could only hope she wouldn't be fired for this.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, noting the cut along her brow. His heart still pounded in his chest as he tried to regain control of his nerves.

"Yes, sir."

She certainly didn't look fine. The fear had not left her eyes and her change in posture suggested a stiffened and sore back.

"I'm sorry, sir, I don't know what happened," she said quickly, her eyes almost pleading. He hoped she didn't anticipate punishment for this – he wasn't a tyrant, he couldn't scold her for what had happened.

"We should get out. Can you manage?" he asked, motioning to help her out.

"Mhm" she murmured, making her way through the passenger door after him. He paused before supporting her arm with his and closing the door behind her.

"We'll walk back to the vicarage," he said, decidedly. "Then we can send a mechanic to see to the car."
She nodded glumly, and Foyle realized what he had intended to sound reassuring had only made her feel worse.

"I'm so sorry, sir," she said again, this time so quietly he almost missed it.

"It's alright, Sam. Clearly wasn't your fault - something went awry. No need to beat yourself up over it." He almost added, 'I think the wheel did that well enough for you,' but decided against it. She was feeling fragile enough as it was.

They walked quietly for a ways until they finally caught sight of the vicarage roof.

"Nearly there," he said softly.
Sam slowly began to remove her gloves, rubbing her neck as they walked.

"I just can't imagine what could have happened," she muttered, not paying attention.

"What were you saying about the wheel?" he asked.

"I couldn't get the wheels to turn," she said. "It was as if they were stuck, and then I turned the wheel so hard it snapped them back out and I couldn't stop them."

He stopped in his tracks for a moment, remembering something he'd just been told by one of the instructors at Hill House. So, this hadn't been an accident, then.

"Just remembering something," he said, touching her arm briefly and giving her a sympathetic smile. She was quiet all the way to the house.

She never talks when you want her to, he thought somberly.

When they'd returned to the house, Foyle told Aubrey what had happened and requested some dressings for Sam's forehead.
"Of course, right away," said the vicar, in a tizzy, before vanishing down the hall and into the kitchen.

Foyle steered Sam into the parlor and motioned to the seat by the window.
"Thank you, sir" she said, slowly lowering herself into the chair and taking her first deep breath since the accident. Aubrey returned with a clean hand towel, a bowl of soapy water and a bandage, before disappearing again to fetch a fresh decanter of wine.

Foyle quietly pulled an ottoman before Sam's chair and seated himself with the bowl and towel. Then he took a moment to examine the wound. It didn't seem too deep, thank God, but it certainly needed cleaning.
"Alcohol might be more affective, but-" he said quietly as he dipped the towel in the bowl. As he held Sam's cheek in his hand he forgot what he'd intended to say, and trailed off. He didn't want to hurt her and touched the cut as gently as possible.

He tried not to look into her eyes, which followed his with a mixture of interest and a remnants of anxiety. His gentle movements and the quiet of the room – broken only by the sound of his cleansing the towel and shifting in his seat - was helping to ease her nerves.

When he was almost done, Foyle stopped a moment to look over the rest of her face. This seemed to be the extent of her injuries, but for some reason he couldn't look away. Her wide eyes finally drew him in and held his breathless attention before she softly cleared her throat and spoke.

"I can... take it from here, sir," she said, not wanting to, but feeling she must. He nodded and wrung the cloth out one more time and handing it to her.

"'Course," he said, his eyes creasing a smile in her direction as he stood and reseated himself in another spot.

Sam chided herself for ruining the moment as she finished mopping up her brow. What had she done that for?
She set down the bowl and towel just as her uncle returned with a freshly filled decanter.

Once conversation had concluded and Sergeant Milner, Foyle, Sam and Aubrey had finished talking about the case, Sam drained the last of her wine and made to leave.
"Right, well, if we're going to dig up a grave we'd best do it now. Mind you, we'll have to use another car." Milner smiled and met Foyle's gaze. They silently agreed: she was a champion, willing to return to the road and continue working, even after what had happened.

Walking out before the others could join them, Foyle brought her aside to speak privately.
"S-Sam, are you sure you're alright to drive?" he asked as gently and unassumingly as possible. She blushed slightly and lowered her eyes for a moment before responding.

"Certainly, sir. I know, you must have lost every ounce of trust in me for what happened, but I promise you it won't happen again."
His brows creased as she said this.

"I don't… blame you for what happened. I told you, it wasn't your fault."

"…But, sir-"

"No buts. End of conversation. You're free of all charges."

She smiled.
"That's jolly decent of you, sir," she said, trying to remain professional and not dissolve into tears. Still, a small one escaped the corner of her eye before she could stop it, and he'd noticed.

He also heard the threat of more tears in her voice and felt sheepish as he struggled to find something to say.

"Nnot at all," he finished simply.

As they heard the approaching chatter of Milner and Aubrey, Foyle felt a quiver in his stomach. He was panicking, somehow, uncertain what to say, but knowing he wanted to say something more private, more meaningful before the others met them at the car.
He let his better judgment slip just for an instant, pulling her closer and brushing her cheek with his hand again. Then, gently, he planted a kiss on her brow, right beside the cut they'd just cleaned.

"I trust you, Sam," he said softly, and then released her, his eyes staying with her for a moment before Milner walked over to him.

"Shall we go?" Milner asked, and they continued talking as they took their seats in Milner's police car.

Walking to the drivers' seat, Sam felt her heart flutter, a sensation which only increased as she took her seat beside Foyle.
Don't make too much out of it, she thought. He was only being nice.

Still, he had shown her how much he cared, and that was something she'd been wanting for a long time.

Starting the car, she took a deep breath and cleared her head, trying not to allow for any distractions. She glanced back at Milner and Aubrey in the rear view mirror, and for a moment felt her consternation return. Foyle noticed, and quietly touched her hand where it rested on the shift. She bit her lip as she looked at it. She met his eyes again, and saw something unutterably kind in them. In that moment he was telling her everything would be fine - that they were safe, and that he trusted her.

Sam smiled and felt her fears vanish completely, and she started the motor and turned down the road toward the church.