Eleanor's eyes began to burn from reading letter after letter. Her hand was cramping from signing authorizations, thank you notes, and releases. She leaned against the back of her chair and stretched her arms as far as they would go. She heard her back pop and made a groaning noise very similar to a grumpy bear. The curtains were closed tight to make sure she wasn't distracted by the open window. Fall was approaching and the leaves were changing. The days were cool and tempting for an adventure. But those days were gone, now. Eleanor had been by herself in the office for quite some time.

It was hard for her, at first. Almost every night she would walk down to Walter's memorial. Sometimes she fell asleep only to be woken by her nightmares. Other times she just sat there until someone from the castle ushered her back to her room. No matter what the case, she always ended up back in her study… with more paperwork. The only person she really saw any more was Page. And that wasn't because she wanted to. Page was still leading the Resistance. She was constantly pushing for the voice of the people. But Eleanor had heard enough. Rebuilding Albion wasn't going to happen overnight. It was the number one priority for the time being. But Page needed favors, needed rights, everything for the people. That woman had zero patience.

There was a knock at the door. Eleanor didn't bother to answer. Anyone that knew her well enough understood that she was a busy person. She didn't have much time for pleasantries. If it was important enough, they would walk in after not hearing an answer from the other side of the door. Whoever it was, they must have decided their issue was urgent enough as she heard the door open.

"I do believe it's time for break," they said.

Eleanor finally decided to greet her guest. "Hello, Ben," she grinned, still not looking up from her quill and parchment.

"Royalty treating you well?"

"Actually, it's pretty similar to swinging a sword at balverines," she glanced up for a moment. "The only difference is tea time at noon."

Ben looked at the clock behind him. "What a shame I missed it."

Her grin blossomed into a smile. She stopped her busy work for a moment to give him her attention. He hadn't changed much the last month. He wasn't wearing a uniform. But she was sure his boots were military issue. Judging by the heaviness in his eyes and the lack of color on his skin, she knew he wasn't at his best. Wherever he was, he was certainly handling things better than she was.

"You honestly don't think I have time for tea anymore do you?"

"It's good to see you still have a sense of humor."

"I try," she shrugged.

Ben shifted where he stood. She could tell he was uneasy. He wasn't making eye contact and he wasn't sitting down. She put down her pen and folded her hands neatly over her desk. There was an irritating feeling that began to creep upon her. Out of all the people, she had expected Ben to visit from time to time. But he never did. She had been through so much with him. When he turned down the position as Major, it had come as quite a shock. Now that he was in her office, whatever he had to say must have been utterly crucial.

"Was there something you needed?"

Ben crossed his arms, suddenly aware of his fidgeting. He tried to swallow the fear that was billowing up inside him. And even though he kept his hands from wringing each other, he began to sway back and forth.

"I know you're busy, Elle. I just wanted you to hear it from me instead of someone else."

"Hear what?" she squinted at him.

He looked toward the window. Seeing it was closed, he looked to the floor. Finally, with a sigh, his eyes landed on her face. Not quite her eyes, but it was a start.

"I'm leaving for a while."

Eleanor slowly sat up in her seat, tilting her neck to the side.

"Where?" she said calmly.

"I don't know, yet."

"You just plan to leave on a whim? What's going on?"

"I just… I need to get away. Nothing feels right around here anymore. Half of Bowerstone is in ruins. And with Walter-"

"Don't," she snapped, her voice rising.

"Elle, don't be like this."

"You can't use him as an excuse. That just isn't fair."

"Come with me, then," he said, approaching her desk.

"I can't. You know I can't."

"Elle," he said, sitting down in a chair across from her. "You need to get away, too. This isn't you. I can't sit here and watch you waste away."

"Then maybe it is better for the both of us if you go."

The tears were starting to form in her eyes. But she wouldn't allow herself to cry. Not after everything she had already been through. It really wasn't entirely Ben's fault. And she couldn't bear the thought knowing how guilty he felt for making her this way. Everyone was leaving her. There was nothing she could do about it except watch as Ben rose from his chair and began to walk away.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be. Just be thankful you're lucky enough to walk away from this."

The next morning brought a warm sun in the sky dotted by a few light clouds. There was no sign of rain and the air was perfectly thin. Ben breathed it in heavily as he lay on his bunk, basking in the sun pouring through the window onto him. He scratched the top of his head, letting his arm fall backward where he rested his cheek on his arm. A list of things to remember went through his head. He repeated it until he felt awake enough to get out of bed. His bag was already packed and he was more than ready to go. There were just a few small things to take care of before he left.

First was a hot bath. He hadn't taken one in quite some time and he knew there wouldn't be another chance. The steam filled the room and he took advantage of every inch of silence. When he knew everything was as clean as it was going to get, he dried off and flung the towel over the back of his neck. The sink was cold against his waste but he had to lean in close to the mirror to examine the stubble forming on his chin. To shave or not shave? He thought for a moment and then decided he never liked shaving, anyway.

Second on his list was his uniform. It had been dangling in the wardrobe accompanied only by a few moths since he had rented the room at the tavern. After he left the castle yesterday afternoon, it was apparent he would not be returning. So the question was, who would take his uniform? He took it carefully off the hanger. It wasn't that he was worried he was going to tear it. It was the fact that he was folding away the pieces of clothing he had been wearing for over a year. When he had met Elle, it wasn't in that uniform. But it was the uniform he had worn when he battled with Crawler. He didn't have the courage to bring back. So he left it sitting on the bed as he walked out of the room.