Being the wife of an Assassin was actually more boring than I would have thought. Much of that was owed to Connor's constant absences. I equated it with having a husband who traveled for business. In truth, I suppose that was an accurate assessment. The only thing lacking was a steady paycheck and health benefits. Considering we never needed for anything, I guess those didn't really matter.

The worst part about Connor's 'job' was the inability to contact him if something happened while he was away. I was plagued by what ifs and hows when he wasn't home. Not so much for my sake, but for his. I knew Connor would blame himself ceaselessly if something happened and he wasn't here to prevent it. I didn't want him to have that sort of guilt. Nor did I really want to have to deal with all the trials of parenthood on my own. There were many times I wished he was home for certain events. None of them very serious, only situations I would have felt better with having moral support from my spouse during. There was always Achilles, but that just wasn't the same. I desired to have Connor around – and never more than the spring of '78.

It was less than a week until Abby's fourth birthday that I really loathed not being able to get in touch with Connor. He had left after Christmas with the intention of telling Washington everything. The old man had disagreed with this decision adamantly. I could hear the raised voices in front of the manor as they argued from my seat in the living room. Connor had always had a temper and was prone to displaying it when he felt inclined to do so. But I had never heard Achilles raise his voice before that day. The old man wasn't above arguing, but he did so in a firm tone. Or, he always had before. Yet his aged words carried more anger when stating Connor's foolishness then I had thought possible. I'm not sure what it was that my husband said to make Achilles so angry, but I knew it was harsh.

Achilles didn't say much to me for a few days after his fight with Connor. When he did speak to me, he asked if I thought what my husband was doing was the right course of action. Being unsure about all the details, I only told him that it was my obligation as Connor's wife to support his decisions – whether I agreed with them or not. I might have imagined it, but I thought I saw a bit of pride beneath the ire in the old man's expression when I answered so maturely. In any case, he let it go and things went back to normal between us.

Abby and I were deep in the middle of a tea party with Kara:ken when we got a visitor. I had made some cookies for the occasion, which she was devouring gladly. I didn't let Abby have sweets very much. She was rowdy enough with out the added sugar.

"Kara:ken likes the cookies, Ista," she said proudly.

"I think Abby does, too," I replied.

She smiled and took another treat from the center of the coffee table. I was about to tell her that was the last one she could have when I heard a knock on the door. Abby stood up, looking into the hallway.

"I'll get it!" she called.

Guessing it was only Achilles of Maria, I let Abby run to the door. I took my time getting up, as I heard her open the entry and greet whoever was on the other side. I was perplexed when the voice that answered was one couldn't place right away. It made me leery about who would be calling. I had the sensation that I knew that voice, that I had heard it before. I casually hoped my suspicions were wrong as I entered the hall. I froze in shock as I was met with the sight of the speaker. He was a man I recognized well. A man I had met once and hoped to never see again. A man who's picture hung in the basement of the manor next to the title of Grand Master.

"Haytham," I murmured in awe.

He looked at me, taking his eyes from the little girl who was holding the door open and staring up at the newcomer. A grin played at his lips as he noticed my stunned reaction to his presence.

"Hello, Faith."

I suddenly became aware that my daughter was standing not a foot from the Templar who was also her grandfather. I moved over quickly, taking her hand and pulling her beside me. Abby let out a startled yelp, not sure about the situation. She looked up at me with confusion, her dark eyes flicking between me and Haytham.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

Haytham looked thrown off by the question, as thought it was common practice for him to visit people he didn't really know. As though his visit would be accepted for no other reason than he was my husband's father.

"I came to see Abigail," he said. "Connor mentioned it was almost her birthday. I thought that a perfect opportunity to spend time with my granddaughter."

His statement gave me so many questions I didn't know which to ask first. As I tried to conjure a coherent thought, Abby looked up at me. Her expression became one of excitement at the subject of her birthday.

"He came for my party, Ista!"

I shook my head, not sure how to respond – unable to respond. I had never expected to see Haytham Kenway on my doorstep. It was an event I was unprepared for. One I had thought I would never have to face. Yet, here I was. Just me and Abby. Alone. Without Connor here to explain or offer support. I felt a deep anger at my husband for not being home right now. Had he been here, I had a strong desire to knock the hell out of him. I probably wouldn't have done it had I the opportunity, but I certainly wanted to at the moment.

Haytham knelt down, getting on Abby's level, and smiled at her. "That's right," he said.

His eyes looked her over, scanning her features for the familiar ones that betrayed her linage. I had always known Abby favored her father, but – until that moment – I hadn't realized how much Connor favored his father. Our daughter shared some of those same traits. It pained me to acknowledge the fact that she resembled Haytham.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look like your grandmother?" Haytham asked Abby.

Abby stared at him, not sure what to make of this information. She thought for a moment, then turned a critical gaze to Haytham. "Akshotha Kaniehti:io?" she asked.

Haytham gave her a frown, but nodded slowly. "Ziio. Yes."

"Rake:ni tells me that, too," Abby said.

I realized that Haytham's confusion about Abby's statements were because she was speaking some of her words in Kanien'keha. I was used to it. Everyone who knew her was used to the mixture of languages. But not Haytham. He had never learned to say anything in Mohawk. I found that disrespectful and narcissistic. His son being of another culture didn't matter one bit to him. It irked me that he called himself Connor's father when he knew nothing about him – didn't attempt to learn anything about him. He saw him as an Assassin and nothing more, only using their relation when it was convenient for him. I knew it would be the same with Abby. I knew this short meeting would likely be the only time she ever saw her grandfather. I was glad for that. But also angry. It was wrong to toy with people the way Haytham did, using feelings for personal means. I didn't want him hurting my daughter like that. I didn't want him around her at all. I wanted to tell him to leave. But I wanted to do it in a way that wouldn't upset Abby.

"It was nice to see you again, Haytham," I said, forcing the words to not sound strained. "But I'm sure you have better things to do-"

"Better?" he cut me off, rising to his feet. "What could I possibly have to do that would be better than spending time with my family?"

There was a long pause where I tried to think of another way to coax him into leaving. Haytham watched me, a goading grin on his face at my hesitance.

"We are having a tea party," Abby said in the quiet. "Ista made cookies."

Haytham smiled at her. "I'm sure they're delicious."

Abby grinned at him, nodding vigorously. In a quick motion, she took Haytham's hand, pulling him into the house. "Come on. I will let you have one."

"Wait," I called, making Abby freeze and look at me. The innocent expression on her face hurt me more than I was willing to show. She didn't understand what was going on. She didn't understand that Haytham wasn't a good person. She didn't understand that he was the enemy, that I didn't like him. She liked him, because he was nice to her. Because he had said her father's name and knew it was almost her birthday. To her, that made him a friend. I cursed silently, wishing life were as simple as she thought it to be.

"You go get Haytham a plate," I said softly. "I'll take his coat."

Abby nodded. She let go of Haytham's hand and ran into the living room. That left the two of us alone. I looked at the man I thought I would never see again, and he looked at me.

"Was it not you," he said quietly, as he removed his jacket and handed it to me, "who wanted me to take an interest in my son's life?"

"I wanted you to spare his life," I hissed, clutching the garment in tight fists. "Not take an interest in it."

Haytham opened his mouth to respond. Before he could speak, Abby called to him that his cookie was ready. Haytham gave me a small grin that irritated me.

"Excuse me," he said in an incredibly polite tone. "My granddaughter requires my attention."

I think he turned away before he noticed the sneer on my face. If he didn't, he chose to ignore it. He left the hallway, talking to Abby in a sweet tone that she replied to with excitement. I knew this was going to end badly. Knew it. But there was not much I could do. Haytham had made an impression on my daughter, one that any other parent might be glad for. But I wasn't glad. I was anxious. Afraid this was all some sort of plot the Templar had concocted for reasons unknown to me.

I took a moment to wonder exactly where my husband was when I needed him most while I hung Haytham's coat on the hook next to mine. Then I entered the living room and watching with a baffled countenance as Abby held a fantastic tea party with a man I had once entertain thoughts of killing. It was the most awkward afternoon of my life.