A/N: As promised, a fast update! Don't forget to review!

Chapter Twenty-Two;

Grief

"Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak whispers the o-erfraught heart and bids it break."

William Shakespeare, Macbeth

The sun had just risen when Cora woke, evidently having fallen asleep before she could retreat back to her own room as she had been doing. Connor had slept peacefully for the first time in a while, troubled dreams sparing him. Unfortunately, Cora herself had no such luck. All night she had tossed and turned in a restless slumber, waking often from a dream, or because she was hot or heard something outside. Usually she was not so light of a sleeper, but it seemed anything had been able to disturb her. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes again, almost wishing to go back to sleep. When her mind proved too busy, she turned to face Connor, who was still asleep.

In her dreams, she had seen her family, or what was left of it, anyway. Her sisters had stood before her, bloodied and weeping, asking why she had not come for them. Cora had woken with panic in her heart, and it seemed the unsettled feeling had not yet left her. She had made her decision and was content with it, so why was she still so burdened by it? Perhaps if Riordan had never come, she would not have been so affected. After talking to him about what was waiting for her, she could not deny that part of her wanted to go even if she had already devoted herself to another task. Suddenly, it seemed as though her decision had gone like vapor into the air, leaving behind the work of another choice.

Leaning over, she kissed Connor's temple and then began to get out of bed. Just as her feet touched the floor, she felt his hand grasp her wrist. He let go when she turned back, and he sat up, looking at her intently. As Cora picked her shift off of the floor and pulled it over her head, she tried not to meet his eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"Of course," she said, making herself smile despite the strife settling into her heart. Connor furrowed his brows, obviously skeptical. "I am just going for a ride. It is a beautiful morning, and I have not taken Ealga for a while... I need to do some washing later, anyway, so if you have a few things you need cleaned, I might as well do it." Connor got out of bed as she rambled on, pulling his trousers over his nakedness before crossing the room to where she stood. As he approached, she busied herself gathering her clothes. Connor spied her petticoat before she did, swiping it off the floor just as she reached for it. When he handed it to her, he grabbed her hand, looking her in the eye.

"Are you sure?"

Cora pulled the petticoat away from him, folding it against her chest. "Yes." Connor raised an eyebrow in response, and she sighed, dropping it in the pile with her other things. "My dream has stuck with me," she admitted, moving the end of her braid between two fingers. "I just need to clear my head."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Resting a hand on her hip, she sighed. "Not really."

Connor nodded, kissing her on the cheek before leaving her to complete her task. As he picked up his own clothes off the floor, he watched her from the corner of his eye. Though he trusted her to admit when something was truly bothering her, he wondered if perhaps she was withholding her emotions to get back at him for his own lack in being very forthcoming.

As she threaded her fingers through her braid in order to re-plait it for the day, he decided to be upfront with her. "Are you upset with me?"

This time, her answer seemed more genuine. "Of course not!" Slightly stunned, she dropped her hands from her hair. "If I was, you would know," she laughed, trying to tease him. "Why?"

"I know I have not been very open since New York," he admitted, looking away as he spoke. "It has not been easy."

"I know," she said softly.

Connor sighed again, sitting on the bed. "I... I think I wanted to deny my emotions, even to myself. Perhaps I do not know what I feel at all."

"If I may," she said, sitting next to him and placing a gentle hand on his thigh. "I think you are grieving," she said simply. Connor nodded ever so slightly, not necessarily in active agreement with her words but rather in acknowledgment and acceptance of them. "And no matter the relationship you had with your father, no matter what he ever did, it is only natural that part of you mourns his loss."

Connor was silent for a few moments. Her words were true, but he still felt as though he had no right to be so affected. "For a long time, I had so many hopes for him, for us... I thought I could make him see the fault of his ways, that we would reconcile. But I ruined any hope of that. With my own hand, no less."

"Connor, please don't-"

"Blame myself? How can I not? It is one thing to know that I should not blame myself for my mother's death, but my father... Kanen'tó:kon... How can I reconcile with that?"

"Things are not always simple," she sighed, wishing she knew how to absolve him of his guilt and pain. "Be fair with yourself. You know as well as I that if there had been another way, you would have taken it."

Connor's eyes were fixed upon the floor, and his voice was thick with despair when he spoke. "I miss them all. My mother, Kanen'tó:kon... Even my father."

Taking his cheek in her palm, she tipped his face toward her. "You will always have me." Connor's eyes roamed over her face for a few moments before he gave a hint of a grateful smile. When they embraced, she closed her eyes tightly, unable to shake the feeling that she had just unintentionally lied.

The homestead was already bustling when she set out for the river, a basin full of clothes balanced on her hip. Cora hoped a walk would clear her mind and free her from how unsettled she was that she had felt so guilty after talking to Connor. It was not as if she lied to him, after all. She had every intention of being there for him, yet part of her felt torn, so intent on seeing her prior dreams through and seeing her family for herself. Where she had once been confident of her decision, she was now confused and unsure.

Norris smiled at her as he approached on the path, on his way to the mines. Cheerful as always, he yelled an energetic bonjour before waving as he passed. Lance was sawing a long plank of wood in half when he noticed her walking by, and Cora was held up for almost a quarter of an hour as he emphatically explained his newest idea. After that, she passed Prudence baking bread in her huge outside oven. The smell gave her waves of nostalgia, and she called good morning. Prudence had waved her over, greeting her with a hug before insisting that Cora take one of her freshly baked loaves. "It is sweet bread," she had said when Cora tried to decline. "I know that is your favorite, and Connor's too. You have both seen so much trouble lately, it is the least I can do."

As Cora continued on, she couldn't help but feel even more burdened. The people here had become a sort of extended family to her, and the thought of leaving after all they had given her was a hard one to bear.

Diana was taking clothes off the line, her little Rose on her hip, when Cora walked past, seeking out the part of the river where the current was not as strong. She dropped the shirt she was holding into the basket and made for Cora, shifting her daughter in her arms.

"Cora! It's been a while since I've gotten to see ya. How have ya been, lass?"

"Well," she said, being perhaps a bit too simple for Diana to believe her.

"I've heard your brother came," she said, dropping her voice. "Can't be easy."

Cora looked down, biting her lip. "No," she admitted.

"I'm sure things will be gettin' better with time," she said kindly. "How's Achilles?"

"Sleeping almost all the time." She smiled slightly despite the somber subject, thankful for the change of subject. "He seems to be a little better now. Sometimes he is able to get up and walk around, but his energy never lasts long and his cough persists."

Diana shook her head in astonishment. "I'd have sworn he wouldn't make it, so ill he was... It's a right wonder."

"Indeed," Cora said. Achilles' illness had been yet another thing that had plagued Connor. He often sat at his bedside, watching the old man's chest rising and falling as if the assurance of life was enough to bring him some comfort. Though Cora was saddened by Achilles' turn, she hoped most for Connor's sake that he would pull through.

After bidding her goodbye, she continued to the river, filling the basin with water and scrubbing the fabrics much harder than normal. When she was finished she headed back to the manor and began hanging the wet clothes on the line, trying to focus her mind on the menial task in hopes it would not wander to other more dangerous things. The day was turning out to be rather beautiful, and it served to improve her mood. The heat had broken about a week prior and cooler air had moved in, though it was not yet chilly enough for warmer clothes. It was that perfect medium, warm and sunny but with a breeze to cool one's neck. Her reverie did not last long however, as her brother approached with a determined look on his face. Rolling her eyes with a sigh, she hung up the last of her things, a large sheet which she used to form a barrier between them. Not getting the hint, he pushed it aside and earned a swat on his hand.

"Don't dirty up the clothes I've just cleaned," she scolded, settling the basin on her hip as she went to put it away. Riordan laughed as he followed, clucking his tongue.

"You sound just like mother," he said. "Aoife would be so pleased."

"I'm sure," Cora quipped dryly.

"I was wondering..."

"Here we go," she sighed, setting the basin on the porch and turning to face him, her hands on her hips.

"Please reconsider," he asked, obviously desperate enough to beg outright. "You don't have to give me an answer now, but please think about it."

"I have been thinking about it," she hissed. "Stop pushing me."

Trying to hide his elation, Riordan nodded, pressing his lips together. "Of course. I'm so sorry."

Cora rolled her eyes, walking past him as she made for the stables. "I'm sure." What she really needed now was to feel the wind in her hair, to get away from the people who pressed her to make a choice or somehow reminded her of it. The decision that had been behind her, but now seemed to be looming before her, an ominous cloud on the horizon.

"Where are you going?" Following her at the heels just as Fionn did, he jogged to catch up with her. "I thought we could play cards, or perhaps you could introduce me to the townsfolk."

"I'm going for a ride."

"That's fine, I can just saddle my-"

"Alone," she said, sighing when she realized her voice had been harsh. "Look... It is not that I don't want to be around you. I just need some time by myself to think." Riordan nodded, and Cora turned toward the stables, where Ealga was eagerly stomping around in her stall.

"I understand," he said, disappointed. "Perhaps tonight?"

"Maybe. Connor and I are supposed to discuss some things."

"Right," he said bitterly. "Of course Connor requires your attention over me."

"Riordan please. Stop acting like a jealous child." Riordan huffed, mumbling under his breath as he walked away. Cora knew she should follow him and prevent her words from festering into a bigger conflict, but she was too exhausted. It was not even noon, but between this and her earlier talk with Connor, she already felt emotionally drained.

The ride helped some but she still felt anxious, as if she was standing on a ledge having to decide which way to jump. When she came across a small spring-fed pond, she decided she desired nothing more than to feel the cool water against her skin. Perhaps that would finally clear her mind. When she was certain there was no one around, she slipped out of her clothes and ventured into the water. Despite the warmth of the day, the water was shockingly cold against her bare skin and she sucked in a breath as she waded deeper, forcing herself to go further and further until only her head was above the water. There was only one last step until she was fully submerged, until she could move on... Perhaps the last bit would be the most painful, the most shocking to her system, but it had to be done. The only thing to decide was which pool to choose.

Closing her eyes, she sank slowly into the water until she felt the cold fold over her scalp. Trembling, she released air from her lungs, trying to ease the discomfort she felt in her chest. Though she did not know why, she stayed there for a few moments, holding still until she could not bear it any longer. Gasping, she emerged from the water and ran her hands against her scalp, smoothing her hair back. To her disappointment, still she felt no clarity, and so she got out of the water, dressing quickly just in case someone were to come by. Thinking of her dreams, she wrung her hair out and worked it into a braid. There was no way she could go on without seeing her Aoife's face, without knowing what had come of her aunt and younger sister... If she attempted to go after Oliver, she knew her focus would be broken, clouded by unfulfillment as well as fear that Oliver would use them against her.

All the same, she could not imagine going to a place that Connor would not be beside her. Though presumably she could go for only a little while, there was no doubt the search for Nuala and Maebh would take weeks, if not months. There was no way she could ask him to come, either. Not when he was so determined to finish his work with the Assassins...

"Cora? My dear, is that you?" Jumping in surprise, she whirled around to see Catherine standing in the distance, her hand shading her eyes. As the woman approached, Cora took Ealga's reins and led her in the same direction. "What are you doing so far from home?"

"I could ask the same of you," she laughed. She had ridden for a while but had turned back and was well on her way back when she had stopped at the pond, but she still had not expected to come across anyone. Luckily the woman had happened upon her after her swim...

"Oh, there are the most beautiful flowers that bloom here this time of year," she gushed, opening her back to produce a white wild blossom, which she handed to Cora. Closing her eyes, she brought it to her nose and inhaled, but didn't smell anything except the slightest hint of some sweet fragrance. "Have you fallen into a lake, child?"

"I went for a swim," she said slowly, unsure if such an idea would be offensive to her. Instead she laughed, placing a hand on her hip.

"Aye, you certainly did." When Cora's smile faltered, Catherine showed obvious concern. "What is it?"

Cora was quiet, carefully pressing the soft petal of the flower between her fingers. "How do you make an impossible decision?" She asked finally, her eyes fixed on the grass.

"Oh, my dear..." Catherine took Cora's hand, patting it gently. "In my experience, many decisions are not as impossible as we make them seem. I can only assume you are deciding between staying here or going with your brother."

"How do you..."

"I like to think I am an intuitive woman," she smiled. "I think perhaps there is not such a binding decision to be made. It is not as if you will be saying goodbye forever if you decide to leave, and it will not be as though you will never see your family if you choose to stay."

"Perhaps, but..." Humming, she dropped her gaze, unable to think of the right words to explain what she felt.

Catherine smiled, rubbing her hand again. "Just think on it."

As they headed back to the homestead, Cora's heart was heavier than ever. All she had been doing was thinking, but still she felt no closer to finding the right path.

That night, Cora retired early. She was already asleep when Connor came to bed, the last in the house to go to bed as always. Though at first Cora had slept in her cot in the other room, the past few nights she had taken to going to Connor's room as soon as Riordan had gone to sleep. She hardly stirred as he slid next to her, kissing her cheek before settling with an arm around her.

When she woke up later he was gone, and Cora sat up, her mind fogged with confusion. Had she slept all day? Was it morning? Though the full moon lit the room, she realized it was still the dead of night, and running a hand across his side of the bed showed he had been gone for some time. Throwing the sheet back, she got out of bed and opened the door slowly, looking into the hall. "Connor?" she whispered. With no answer and no candlelight to give her a hint of where he had gone, she made her way out of the room to check and see if he was perhaps on the balcony. When she found it empty, and from her vantage point saw all the horses accounted for, she furrowed her brow, concern growing. Stepping as lightly as possible, she went downstairs, but every room was empty. It was only when she saw the softest hint of light at the bottom of the door to the basement that she relaxed.

Connor was standing at the table, still dressed in his nightclothes, some white beads in his hands. He did not turn when she came down the stairs, though she was certain he heard her approach. When she got closer, she could see that he was looking at the portrait of his father, which did not yet bear the red cross marks that the other dead Templars did. Sighing, she realized what must be troubling him and came up from behind, sliding her hands around his waist and dropping a gentle kiss upon his shoulder blade.

"Come back to bed," she whispered as one hand folded over hers, the other bracing against the table as his shoulders sagged.

"I will... In a little while." Not content with his answer, she held him tighter for a moment before releasing her grip and moving to his side, laying a hand on his shoulder. When he looked over at her, she could see his grief more plain than ever. "Do you know what he said to me? The last thing he said..." Cora said nothing, knowing he needed control of the conversation. "He said he was proud, that I had shown conviction, strength, and courage... And that he should have killed me long ago." Cora squeezed his shoulder as he paused, closing his eyes at the memory. "He told me he would not break down and wonder what might have been... But it is all that I can seem to do," he added, his voice strained.

"Though I interacted with him little, I knew Haytham Kenway as a proud man," she said softly, resting her cheek against his arm. "What few times I heard him speak, it was often of you. They would make endless plans to find you, but they always seemed to fall through the cracks at the last minute. Lee and the others would be so furious, but Haytham..." She smiled, though Connor did not see. "Haytham would always say, 'well now, he is resourceful, that I will give him.' 'There now, indeed he inherited his mother's wit.' I think... I think at heart, he loved you, even if he could never admit it to himself, nevermind to anyone else." Connor huffed at her words, his lips pressed into a thin line. "He died the way he lived, and he of all people would understand what happened, and not want you to despair so."

Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at her. Cora held her breath, hoping she had not said something that made him feel even worse, but exhaled when he took her hand tightly. When he glanced at the portrait again, Cora glanced at it as well. The resemblance was subtle, perhaps most strong in the line of the brow and the shape of the nose. No doubt he took more strongly after his mother, but there was no denying that he shared much with Haytham.

"Come back to bed," she repeated, her hand running softly along his back. After a few more moments, he nodded and blew out the candles, taking her hand when they headed up the stairs. Later, when they were laying in bed again and Cora was near sleep, his arm draped over her waist and their feet tangled together, she felt him crane his neck, as if checking to see if she was awake. Only half awake, she barely registered it, but she still felt his kiss upon her cheek and his voice in her ear as he whispered, "Thank you."

The next day, her brother pestered her to fulfill her promise to play cards. When she had finished preparing a noon meal and made sure Achilles got his share during his few waking hours, she happily obliged him, and so they sat together at the table to play.

As Cora dealt the cards, Riordan raised an eyebrow, commenting on her familiarity with the motion. "I do believe I am in over my head," he said dryly, tapping a finger against the table as he smiled wryly.

"Indeed you are, brother," she laughed as she set the remaining cards on the table in front of them.

"Mother would certainly not be pleased," he teased when they were near the end of the game. Though mention of her usually drew up sorrow, this time Cora only felt a sweet, keen remembrance.

"Says you, the one who father had to drag home from gambling every other night." As she played a clever card, Riordan groaned and Cora smiled, continuing with her teasing. "Who was it that you tried to cheat that one time? And father had to bargain with him in order for him to let it go? Didn't he give him a hen?"

Grumbling, Riordan slid his card across the table. "You will never let me live that down, will you?"

Cora shrugged, a wry smile on her lips. "It was my favorite hen."

Just then, he slammed a card on top of the deck, beaming triumphantly. When Cora saw that she had a winning card, she sighed, feigning defeat. "What a good play."

"Try not to be too hard on yourself," he said, stretching his arms out as if it had been a simple thing.

"You're right," she nodded, sliding the card from her hand and flipping it atop his. "I usually win much faster than this."

Riordan scowled, earning a shush from Achilles in the other room. He clapped a hand over his mouth as Cora tried to stifle her snickering, and soon they were both shaking with silent laughs. When they had regained composure, Riordan gathered the cards and began to shuffle them.

"Have you given any thought to what we discussed?"

Cora sighed, sitting back in her chair. Why did he always have to ruin a good time with his pressure and pleading? "I only just agreed to think on it yesterday," she reminded him.

"I know, but... I have been here for almost two weeks," he complained softly, still shuffling the deck. "I don't understand why that is not enough time."

"It is not an easy decision for me," she said, impatience showing in the tone of her voice. "You know that."

"I don't, actually," he said, putting the cards down. "Why would you not come with me? To find one sister, see another after six years, to meet your own nephew?" When Cora crossed her arms and looked away, Riordan scoffed, leaning across the table. "We are your family," he stressed.

Cora turned her head away, looking at him from the corner of her eye. It seemed no matter how many times she tried to explain things to him, he never understood.

"It isn't that simple anymore."

Displeased, Riordan spoke louder. "What is there to think about? You have no idea how painful it has been for us!"

Cora raised up from her seat, the chair's legs scraping loudly against the wooden floor. "I have no idea," Cora repeated back, uncrossing her arms and leaning over the table toward him. Having already recognized his error, Riordan raised a hand in surrender, but it was no use. "I have no idea? How dare you!"

"Radha, please, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just trying to say..." He trailed off, unsure how to formulate his words so that she would not misunderstand his intent. He had hoped she would relent and forgive him but instead she stood firm, refusing to avert her cold gaze. Frustration culminating, he let go of his restraint and stood as well, pushing his chair back. "You won't even consider leaving this man you hardly know to find your own sister! What do you think you're doing here, playing house? We are your family," he repeated again. Flinging a hand toward the stairs, his voice turned even more coarse. "He is no one!"

"Enough," she said harshly, her hand cutting through the air. "I love him, Riordan." Her brother's eyes widened as she furrowed her brows, her lip curling as anger pulsed through her. "He knows me far better than you. For as long as I have known him, he has tried to understand who I truly am, not form me into who he thinks I should be. He knows who I am, as do the people here. This is my home now! If I return with you, I will be going home to a house full of strangers!" Stung, Riordan's stance seemed to droop, but Cora did not let up. Stepping around the table toward him, she raised a finger to him and continued. "If you think for one moment that you can treat me this way..." Scoffing, she shook her head. "I will not allow anyone to use my emotions to manipulate me. Of course I want to see my family safe and alive, but I no longer have the luxury to let that be my only consideration. If I choose to return with you, it will not be because you have used the pain of lost time to convince me to do so."

"You are blowing this out of proportion."

"I am not the child I once was." Voice low and full of ire, she took yet another step forward so they they were mere inches apart. "I have survived things you could not imagine. I have seen death all around me, and have lived through cruelty that made me beg for such a mercy. I am not your child, I am not your baby sister-"

Riordan cut her off, unable to bear watching the argument escalate to a place from which there was no return. "Radha, please, you're misunderstanding-" Returning the gesture, she spoke over him, her voice loud enough for all of Davenport to hear.

"And that's another thing! Radha is gone. She was killed six years ago, squashed out like embers of a dying flame. If you cannot accept me as Cora, you can leave. I made it six years without you. I will not struggle if I must continue to do so."

Riordan opened his mouth to respond, but instead found himself stunned into silence by her words. When it became evident he would say nothing, Cora turned and left, nearly running into Connor as she turned the corner. He placed his hands on her arms to right her, but she tore away from his touch, ignoring him as he called her name. Connor watched as she slammed the front door behind her and Achilles' hunched form emerged from his room. When he looked into the kitchen, he saw Riordan's hands were clenched into fists by his side, his narrow eyes fixed on Connor. After a moment, the anger gave way to pain and he relaxed, groaning loudly in frustration as he dropped into the nearest chair, placing a hand on his temple.

"I suppose you heard everything, then." Riordan did not look at Connor as he spoke. Whether it was stubbornness or anger, he did not know, but despite their past arguments and Riordan's clear dislike of him, Connor knew it was no time to gloat.

"I am sure she does not really mean it," he consoled as he entered the room, sitting opposite the man. "She has a temper, says things in anger... Just give her time. She will come around."

Riordan sat back in the chair, looking Connor in the eye.

"You were right," he said solemnly. "You do know her far better than I do..." There was pain in his voice, and Connor felt pity for him. It could not be an easy thing to have to get to know someone with whom you once shared so much with. Connor said nothing, and Riordan pressed his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes briefly as if to reign in his emotion. "She really is a stranger to me... And I to her." Riordan sucked in a breath and turned his face away, clearing his throat as he tried to disguise wiping the wetness from his eyes.

Connor leaned on the table and spoke gently. "Give her time." Nodding, Riordan took a deep breath and got to his feet.

"I should write to my wife," he said, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but in the same room as Connor. "She will want to know what has happened." Riordan hardly even waited for Connor's response before he left the room, his heart tearing within his chest. Though he hated to admit it, he was often a proud man, and he had let his confidence get in the way of treating his sister how he should have. Additionally, admitting that Connor was right was more difficult than he would have liked. If he was honest, Riordan did not know why the man affected him so much. There was nothing wrong with him, nothing he had said or done, that gave him any real cause to distrust or dislike him. All the same, Riordan struggled to come to terms with his relationship with Radha... Cora, he corrected. Though harsh, her words were true. Riordan had been trying to fit who she was into the empty frame of who she had once been, and he should have realized that not only was it impossible, but it was also detrimental to their relationship. Not only was she no longer a girl, but she had lived through experiences and trials and joys that many never did. If he wanted to know her, he would have to respect all parts of who she was – her past, her desires, her friends... Her relationship with Connor. Riordan had nursed his suspicions throughout his stay in the manor house, but her confession of love still left him surprised.

Sighing, he dropped onto the cot he had been given, trying to steady his mind. If he was still struggling with having a simple conversation with his sister, how was he supposed to tell her of what really happened the day their father had been shot?

"I have not heard such an argument in this house for many months," Achilles commented after Riordan had disappeared up the stairs.

Connor winced, but smiled all the same at the old man's observation. "Was it really so bad between us?"

Achilles shrugged. "If you would call me having to break up a physical altercation bad."

Connor breathed a laugh, nodding. "I see."

Achilles waved his hand. "At least I can be glad you two are happy now." Connor raised an eyebrow, the old man's sentimentality something he was not used to.

"Can you?"

Achilles gave him a hard but amused look, then began to make his way back to his room. Pausing, he looked back and said, "Well I assume it isn't arguing that has kept me up at night." Connor reddened instantly, looking away awkwardly. Achilles laughed at his embarrassment. "I am old. I am not deaf. But lucky for you I have become a deep sleeper. I rest peacefully nowadays," he sighed as he lowered himself onto his bed. Connor stood there awkwardly, glancing toward the door. "What are you doing standing there," Achilles scolded, pointing his cane toward the door. Connor sprang into action, looking back as if to make some excuse. Instead, Achilles only waved his hand again. "Go on," he said, amused at how Connor's quick, timid movements reminded him of when the boy had first come. So much had changed, and Achilles hoped he had taught him enough, for he feared there was little time left.

Cora was leaning against the stable door when Connor found her. She was quiet, watching Ealga as she grazed a few meters away. When she heard his footsteps she turned, and once saw him coming she crossed her arms, anger already flooding back into her face. Connor said her name, but hardly even got a word in before she began her rant.

"He doesn't want me," she rasped, flinging a hand toward the manor. "He doesn't care about me. He wants his thirteen year old sister, wants me to act like the image he has built up inside of his head." Turning toward him, she flung a finger at her chest. "How can he not see that I'm not her?"

"I think he does see," Connor said gently, trying to reason with her but being careful not to invalidate her emotions. Still, she scowled at him, rolling her eyes as she turned back toward her mare.

"Why did you come if you're only going to chastise me," she asked, her voice low.

"I am only saying that I think he does understand now. Or at least, he is beginning to."

Despite his words, she did not soften. "I hope so, for his sake."

"Cora, you should not be so harsh with him. He is trying his best."

"You don't know what you're talking about," she muttered, narrowing her eyes.

"Perhaps not," he yielded. "But I do know that I care for you." At this, she turned slightly toward him, out of pure interest. "I do not want to see you in pain, and fighting with your brother will only make it worse."

"You are taking his side?"

"No, I-"

"You just said I shouldn't have argued with him! If he refuses to listen and refuses to get to know me, what else am I supposed to do?"

"Cora, please listen,"

"No," she said, pushing away from the wall. "I am done here. You do not get to tell me how to deal with my brother. You do not get to tell me I am wrong when I have been trying everything I know to make this work."

Connor rolled his eyes. She was being rash and she knew it, but he knew she would never admit it, at least not while the flame of her anger still burned so hot. "Fine," he said. "Come find me when you are done overreacting."

Scoffing, she turned away, lacking the energy to continue on with the conversation. When she realized he had left, she set off to bring Ealga back to the stables. The mare nudged her pockets, but Cora pushed her nose away, clucking her tongue. "Nothing for you tonight," she said softly, regretting how she had spoken to Connor. "I'll bring you a treat tomorrow." When she had replenished her water and food and mucked out the stall, she leaned against the stable wall, taking deep breaths. The last thing she needed was to make things worse with Connor when he had only just begun to open up to her about his father. Swallowing her pride, she started back toward the manor.

It was near nightfall and the house had begun to grow dark, but it may as well have been midnight as for the silence that lay over it. Sure enough, Connor was in his room. He stood from where he had been sitting when she opened the door, and didn't even give her a chance to shut it behind her before he spoke.

"I did not mean to make you feel like I am not on your side. I am sorry."

Despite the fact that she had intended to apologize and he had given in first anyway, her words remained sharp. "If this means you won't meddle anymore, I accept."

Connor sighed, resting a hand on his hip and motioning toward her. "Why are you acting like this?"

Running a hand over her face, Cora sat down, forcing herself not to be so touchy. "I don't know," she admitted, speaking more gently. "I'm sorry... I suppose it is hard to hear you say that he understands when I don't think he does. I guess I just did not want you to say it."

"I said it because I love you, and I do not want you to send your brother away and regret it for the rest of your life." At his words, Cora felt all else fade into the background. Her face flushed instantly, and she looked away, unsure whether or not to acknowledge what he had said.

"Look," Connor said, kneeling before her and resting a hand on her knee. "I want you to be happy. You wanted for so long to find your family, and though I know it must be hard after so much time has passed, I think you should give it a chance. You should be patient with him, as he should be more understanding and respectful of you." Nodding, she looked away, but edged her fingers toward his hand. At her touch, he folded her hand into his, letting his thumb stroke the soft skin below her knuckles.

Cora moved her other hand to cover his and turned back, looking him boldly in the eye. Despite the directness of her gaze, her voice was small when she spoke. "Do you mean it?"

"Your brother should realize-"

"Not that." Realization flooded into Connor's eyes when she cut him off, but he said nothing, wanting her to lead the conversation.

Cora swallowed, hoping his words had not been an absentminded fluke. "Do you love me?" Her voice was so quiet that it was almost a whisper, and she looked as though tears could gather in her eyes at any moment. Connor stood and pulled her up with him, dropping her hands so that he could hold her shoulders.

"Yes," he said softly, his lips turning up into a little smile as one hand moved to her neck, his fingertips sliding just into her hairline. She tipped her face up toward him, her dark eyes watching him intently. "I love you."

In one fluid motion, she pulled his face toward hers, but despite her hurried hands, her kiss was tender and sweet. When they pulled away she held his face between her hands, keeping him close.

"I love you," she said back to him. Smiling, he kissed her again, parting only when he felt the slightest wetness under his thumbs. Sure enough, tears had flowed across her cheeks, and he looked at her, bewildered.

"I'm sorry," she said, breathing a laugh of embarrassment as she wiped her cheeks. "I must seem like a fool," she laughed.

"Of course not," he said, drawing her hands away from her cheeks and replacing them with his own, wiping away the last of the lingering wetness. "What is it?"

"I am happy," she breathed, a smile spreading across her lips as she sniffled. "I never even dreamed I could have this."

Connor folded her into his arms, and they stood there quietly, no more words needed. He wanted to tell her that she had brought laughter from a place he had long buried it, that she had reminded him how to be carefree, how to live in the happiness of one moment even when all that surrounded them was suffering. But even though he could not form the words in his mouth, he could not help but believe that she knew. He had seen it in her eyes, felt it in her kiss. He had experienced it in her tender touch, in her patient urgings, her witty teasing – and he did not ever want to let go of that.

The next morning, Riordan had risen early and walked along the little bay, his mind swimming with his own decision. Earlier, Achilles had stumbled upon him in the kitchen, the old man leaning heavily on his cane. Though Riordan had acknowledged him with a nod of the head, he did nothing else, turning his attention back to the parcel he held in his hands.

"Some choices are not easily or quickly made, and one can not force another to hasten the process," Achilles had said, looking down at him. "Especially not Cora." At that, Riordan had sighed, tucking the sealed parchment into his jacket pocket. After a few moments, he nodded at the old man, who left the room. It was after that he had gone for a walk, thinking on his words. Deep down, he knew he was right. Expecting his sister to make such a decision in so short a time was not fair. Besides, it was not as though the decision meant they would never see each other again. Perhaps when things became calm again, she would be ready. Though it pained him to have to go home to Aoife and tell her Cora would not be coming, and though it was hard to think of searching for their aunt and sister by himself, if that was Cora's choice he should not make it any harder for her. Ultimately, all he had wanted was for her to be safe and happy, and although he had thought bringing her home would give her that, he had to come to terms with the fact that she had already found such things in his absence. Perhaps in his heart he had blamed her for their difficult reunion, but how could he truly hold her at fault just for having found happiness? It was not as if he himself had spent years in a state of depression, working only toward finding his lost family members. Part of him had moved forward, and it was no surprise that Cora had done the same. Perhaps it was truly time for him to leave, to return to his wife and son, to Aoife, as Cora made her decision. The outcome was never something he had anticipated, but he was learning to take things as they came. Finally reconciled to it, he set out to find her. Yet though she would no doubt be glad he had come to understand, he dreaded the pain she would feel at the other words he had to share with her.

Connor had spent much of the morning at Achilles' bedside. While still weak in body and unable to be out of bed for long periods of time, the old man's health had improved, which had improved the spirits of all on the homestead. Between dealing with the aftermath of New York and Riordan's arrival, Connor had found himself thinking little of Charles Lee, a fact Achilles had not hesitated to bring up. He was right, as he always almost was. Connor could not dwell any longer – he had to get back to working towards bringing him down.

When the door opened and he heard Riordan's eager voice call Cora's name, he excused himself and stepped into the hall. He and Riordan watched as Cora came down the stairs, stopping a few steps before the bottom with an apprehensive look on her face.

"Is this some sort of ambush?"

"No," Riordan said, resting his hand near hers on the banister. "I have to tell you something."

Sighing, Cora rested a hand on her hip. "If this is about last night..."

"I'm leaving," Riordan said. Cora protested, then gave Connor a look as if telling him to take action, but he stood back, not wanting to impose since he had a feeling he knew what Riordan was about to say. "You were right, Cora," he said, silencing her protests with the use of her name. "I was wrong to expect so much of you. It's alright that you haven't decided yet, but I need to get back to my family, to Aoife. They have been without me for a long while, and I am eager to return to my wife."

"Riordan, please," she said, grabbing the hand he had laid upon the stair.

"You are welcome to come when you are ready," he said, turning his hand under her palm. "Whenever that may be." At that, Cora nodded pensively. Connor could tell she did not want to farewell her brother, but was also glad that he had come to such a decision. Riordan beamed back at her, but his face soon darkened, and he took her hand between his.

"There is something else." The tone of his voice did not help ease Cora's nerves, and she searched his face, her eyes full of worry. Riordan sighed, as if unsure how to proceed.

His pause did not sit well with Cora, who urged him on. "What is it?"

"That day..." He swallowed, closing his eyes as if to regain his composure. When he opened them again, his voice was much steadier. "Father did not die," he said gently.

Cora pulled her hand back, taking a step backward and looking like she had been struck in the face. At this, Connor stood from where he had been leaning against the wall, his own concern building.

"I saw him die," she said, speaking through a clenched jaw. Already her cheeks were flushed, tears welling in her eyes.

"He lived several years after... But was never the same." A tear dropped onto her face and she looked away, covering her mouth as if to keep her emotions from spilling out of it. "He looked for you," he said, trying to console her.

"When?" She rasped finally.

"When what?"

Snapping at him, she turned her head back and said sharply, "When did he die?"

"He lived almost three years after."

Cora gave a low moan, covering her mouth with one hand as her shoulders sank. Connor took several steps forward, stopping at the foot of the stairs when she opened her eyes.

"Cora..." Riordan reached for her but she drew back. As she flew up the stairs, Connor felt knots in his stomach. Never had he seen her like this... She had always been reserved in her sadness or fear. Seeing her unraveling before him left him dazed. Riordan hung his head, but when Connor started after her he jumped up, staring at him wide eyed.

"Let me go," he said, his voice trembling. "Please. Let me go." Though Connor wanted nothing more than to go to her, to hold her and give what solace he could, he stepped back, nodding. Riordan bounded up the stairs, and he heard the door open and close. Anxious to be with her, he sat in the chair in the corner of Achilles' room and ran his hands over his face, slumping over and resting his elbows upon his knees.

Achilles sighed, and Connor looked up, searching the old man's face. "That boy does not know how to deliver difficult news, that is certain." Sighing, Connor sat back in the chair and closed his eyes, trying to still his heart as it beat wildly in his chest at the sound of Cora's sobs. After a few minutes he heard the door open again, quick feet descending the staircase, and he lept up, bounding into the hall. It was only Riordan, though, who himself looked as though he had been crying.

"She wants to be alone," he said, his voice thick with despair as he continued through the front door and out into the sunshine. Something told Connor that Riordan was the one who truly wished for solitude, and so he headed upstairs. He stood for a moment in front of the door, wincing as Cora made ragged noises behind it. When he knocked, she cried out, "Go away, Riordan," her voice battered. He could hear her lungs trembling as she tried to take a deep breath, and he opened the door. She turned when he stepped inside and shut it behind him, ready to confront the intruder, but she softened when she saw it was him and turned back, leaning with both hands on the table in the middle of the room as she tried to steady herself.

"Cora," he called softly, trying to respect any boundaries she desired even though all he wished to do was take her into his arms. Standing up straighter, she wiped her eyes but did not turn to look at him.

"I'm a mess," she whispered as he came closer. "I'm sorry you have to see this."

"Don't say that," he muttered, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. As soon as his fingers brushed her blouse, she turned, leaning into him as he cradled her head with one hand, the other running softly across her back. "I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair as she wound her arms around him, clutching his shirt. "I'm so sorry." There was little else he could think to say, though he knew any other words would be lost to her for now. Sometimes the only thing you could do was to lend an embrace and a loving word.

"I had made peace with it." Drawing back, she looked at him with bloodshot eyes and flushed cheeks, her lips trembling as she carefully formed her words. When she began again, her voice broke. "Yet now I feel as though I have lost him all over again."

Connor held her tightly as she tried to hold back her tears, but failing as a sob ripped through her chest. He had never seen her cry like this, and in fact could hardly recall a time when she had cried at all, so in his inexperience he hoped more than anything that he was making her feel at ease. "Come on," he said, leading her to his room. She already seemed so exhausted, and perhaps lying down would bring her more comfort. He drew the sheets back and she sat down, taking deep breaths as she wiped the tears from her face. In silence, Connor knelt before her, sliding her boots from her feet. When he was finished, she slid into the bed and he climbed next to her, folding his arms around her. Suddenly feeling a little lighter, she closed her eyes and buried her face into his shoulder, her breath shuddering as she continued in the journey of grief she thought she had long since completed.