There are several excellent stories here based off of Bad Blood. I'm not sure I'm adding anything with this but it wanted out of my brain. I do hope you enjoy it.

It had upset him to see the cut on her wrist as they climbed in the car to leave the farm. And it had angered him a little. How could she be so careless? Of course, he knew it was ridiculous to blame her for the injury. Sam was just being …well, Sam. And he really didn't want her to be anything else. But it had upset him more than he wanted to admit; it was his fault really. He didn't protect her and now she was hurt. He knew his thoughts were irrational but it was the way he felt. His chest ached upon seeing Sam hurt. He didn't want to think too hard on why that might be.

When she walked into the front hall at the station to meet her young man and looked so ill, it had distressed him. Sam wasn't the kind of person to be taken down by a mere illness. No, she was far too bright and buoyant for that. He did feel a twinge of guilt for the relief he felt when she said she was too ill to step out with her young man. At least he wouldn't be sitting at home on this night wondering … He'd known all along that some young man would come along and take her away from him. For awhile it seemed that Andrew might be the one and he'd been willing to settle for that. After all, as Andrew's wife, she would still be a part of his world. But his foolish son had thrown all of that away and so Christopher Foyle had slowly been coming to terms with the notion that one day Sam would leave him. It wasn't a happy thought but he knew he needed to learn to accept it. He refused to contemplate why the thought of her leaving disturbed him so much. Best not to wander down that path too far…

Then she was in hospital. That did not sit well with him at all, especially when he learned that a woman had died earlier with similar symptoms. It was hard to believe she could die, while she looked ill she didn't seem to be dying. But it left him with an uneasy feeling as he visited her. The smells and the sounds of the ward brought back memories of another time, another woman lying ill in hospital. He didn't want to think of his wife and of Sam in the same instance. Rosalind had died all too soon and it had devastated him. He didn't think he could survive losing another woman so dear to him. It hurt too much to contemplate. He pushed that line of thinking away however, as it might lead to forbidden thoughts. And then as tight as his chest felt, he'd attempted to tease her, telling her no more than a couple of days… as if she merely had a cold. He'd felt inadequate and his rigid control of his emotions being stretched. But he walked away determined. He would find the answer and he would find it in time.

The next time he saw her, it frightened him in a very visceral way. He could feel the world around him unraveling as he stood there watching her fight for every breath. He physically ached at the sight of it. Sam, his Sam…. No, it could not happen. He couldn't let it happen, not again. For a moment tears threatened. He felt so helpless after speaking with the doctor, so bloody helpless. Christopher Foyle walked away shaken, scared out of his wits, still unwilling to admit why her illness affected him so.

As he approached her hospital bed again, he hesitated. It was still frightening to see her so ill and he wasn't certain he could withstand the onslaught of emotions that were battering his heart at the moment. She appeared to be sleeping. Perhaps he could slip away unnoticed? But a miracle happened and her eyes opened. Relief swept through him in waves as he fought to contain his overwhelming emotions. She was alive and awake. No matter that her young man had been sitting watch and had just left, no matter that the chap had proposed and she would likely accept him, she was alive. And if she left him, he could live with it knowing that somewhere she was still alive and perhaps might think of him occasionally. He knew then that as long as she lived, he could too.

But then she said she wouldn't marry the boy. She seemed to be seeking reassurances from him that she mattered, that her work with him mattered. Oh the things he wanted to say…

But there were too many emotions and he was naturally reticent, so all that he managed to say was that he couldn't go anywhere without her. And he smiled with the truth of it. He was far too old for her and the fact that he was her boss only complicated matters more. But she was alive and this ordeal had cast light on the one truth that mattered to him in that moment. He loved her. He loved her with every fiber of his existence. His feelings for her were not that of a father figure or friend, or even what they should be as her boss; no, he loved her as a man loves a woman. He really could not go anywhere without her; he needed her at his side. He needed her. She had captured his heart and if she had left him he thought he might have died too. But he couldn't let her see that. No, he would sit here with her for awhile longer as her boss, no more of a friend. But she could not see how much he needed to come to terms with the knowledge that she truly would be alright. She could not be allowed to see how very much he needed her.

And once this bloody war was over, once he was no longer her boss, once they were both free to speak of it, he would tell her of his feelings. Until that day, he would watch over her and keep her safe. He would continue hold his breath when any young man buzzed around her and hope that just as she hadn't with the others, Sam wouldn't settle on him. And maybe, even though he deserved her less than the others, just maybe she might feel something for him? Could he keep going if she did leave on the arm of another? No, he really could not go anywhere without her and God help him, he would soon tell her. It couldn't be wrong to feel this way about her; not when for the first time in years, he felt so right. No, if another young man threatened to steal her away, he would tell her. But if not, he would hold his tongue, for now.

As he stepped out of the hospital and stood on the front steps, Christopher Foyle took a deep refreshing breath. Sam lived! The whole bloody world could go to hell as long as she lived. Allowing himself a smile, he began to make his way down the street, a lightness in his step he hadn't felt for years. He was entitled, he thought to himself; after all, he was a man in love. And one day soon she would know just how much.