Fall brought an uncommon amount of dreary, overcast days that did nothing to lighten the solemn moods that clung to the occupants of the Davenport homestead like a dark cloud. It seemed like everyone's temper was foul and precarious. The death of Kanen'to:kon was hard on all of us, but none more than Connor. Considering it was by my husband's hand that his best friend had died made me sympathetic to his long periods of quiet mourning, but Abby's constant questions about her grandfather had me wanting her father to do something other than vacate the room when she wondered why she couldn't see Haytham anymore. It was trying for me to attempt to explain the situation to her in a soothing and polite way. What I really wanted to do was to tell Abby that Haytham was a horrible man and he didn't care about her. But I couldn't bring myself to say something like that to my daughter. Even if it was true, I couldn't relate the harsh reality of how things were to an innocent child who didn't know what hate was. Someday – when she was old enough to understand – I would tell Abby the real reason her grandfather stopped visiting her. But now was not the time. Now, she needed a lie. She needed to hold on to the belief that people were good.

Though Connor was home much of the time, he was distant. He rarely took part in anything Abby and I did. He spent most of his days hunting, training, wandering in the woods. He would come home around dinner time, eat a little then go to his study. The nights he came to bed, he did so very late, after I was already asleep. But the majority of mornings I would get up and find him still sitting at his desk, focused on whatever he was doing and looking like a ragged shadow of the warrior he was.

Not having much success myself in coaxing Connor to do anything other than Assassin business, I decided to let Abby give it a shot. If I needed Connor for anything – no matter how silly or mundane – I would have our little girl go get him. It was my hope that the requests would mean more coming from her. It was the special bond between the two of them that I believed would bring Connor out of his depression. I relied on his love for her to help him see that he still had a life worth taking part in.

After a few weeks of little progress, I began to get impatient. And Abby began to decline to take part in my ploy. No matter how much I begged her to be persistent, Abby refused to do as I wanted. She had gotten used to the constant rejection and decided it was best to not even ask her father for anything. What angered me most about her opinion was the dejected expression that accompanied her negative response. That's what gave me the resolve to finally confront Connor.

Being fairly certain the overdue conversation with my husband would become an argument, I sent Abby to spend the night with Achilles. I thought it would be best if we had some privacy during our discussion. Also, if Connor chose to ignore me and leave, not having Abby here gave me the freedom to follow him. I realized it might be a little insensitive to force a confrontation, but I wasn't one to give up easily. I had it in my head that I was going to support Connor whether he wanted me to or not. He had done the same to me once. Turn about was fair play.

As per usual, Connor was holed up in his study until late that evening. He declined my invitation to supper, saying he wasn't hungry. Gaining such a response, I finished my chores, took Achilles some food – along with his overnight guest – and approached my husband. I didn't bother knocking or pausing at the doorway for permission to enter, I only went into the study and stood across the desk from Connor. I waited for a moment to see if he would acknowledge my presence before speaking. After getting only a quick glance up from the brown eyes that were so filled with distracted emotion, I crossed my arms and sighed loudly.

"It's not good for you to do this," I said.

Connor met my gaze, a soft frown of fake confusion on his features. His lips parted as though he aimed to contradict me on the point I had made, but no words were uttered. The only sound that escaped him was the faint exhale of a exasperated breath that let me know he was in no mood to talk.

But I was. I let him know I wouldn't be deterred so easily by leaning over the desk, resting my hands on top of the documents scattered before him. Connor's expression became stony at the interruption. I ignored the defiant look on his face.

"Stop shutting us out," I told him.

I deliberately used the plural pronoun to inform him that if wasn't just for myself that I was concerned for. I had our daughter's best interests in mind as well. I wanted him to understand that his actions were affecting her as much – perhaps more – than me.

"I am not shutting you out, Faith," Connor replied. There was a tinge of ire in his voice, one I had gotten used to hearing the last three months. One I was sick of hearing. "I am...working."

"Is that what you call it?" I asked sardonically.

His response to that was to huff irritably and nudge my hand off the papers he had been concentrating on. That simple action irked me so very much that I found it difficult to control the urge to lash out that had building inside me for the past few weeks. I gritted my teeth and stared at him as he avoided looking at me, choosing to concentrate instead on the words written upon the parchment.

"Why won't you talk to me?" I asked in frustration.

"About what?" Connor returned in the same tone. "There is nothing to talk about."

His choice to play ignorant about the events that had made him so morose angered me further. I knew he had spoken to Achilles about what had transpired. The old man had told me a little of what had happened in Valley Forge after I'd questioned him about the Assassin's downfall a few weeks ago. Achilles had been honest and forthright with me on the subject, regaling all he knew and his personal involvement in the actions that led to the dispersion of the Order. His honestly on everything had made me regret ever doubting him. I suppose it had been Haytham's intent to cause friction between us. I was only glad that it hadn't lasted long – glad that I could trust Achilles to tell me anything.

"I know what happened with Washington," I told my husband. I tried to keep my voice at a pleasant octave in an attempt to show him that I could be supportive and understanding. But the scowl on his face when I mentioned the Commander had my ire rising yet again. Yet, I tried to stay calm. "And I know it was Lee's deception that led to Kanen'to:kon's death..."

I paused as Connor shot me an intense glare. He hadn't commented on his friend since he'd given me the news about his demise. It was one of the many things he refused to talk about lately. One of the things that caused him to leave the room when the topic was mentioned. Connor was avoiding dealing with his grief. He was choosing to keep all his feelings inside, just like he'd been trained to do. But I didn't feel like that was fair to me. Or to Abby.

"I know it's not something you want to talk about," I said as sympathetically as I could. "But I do."

Connor let out a soft breath and stood up from his seat. I could tell by his rigid stance that he was mad. Not just irritated or frustrated, but really mad. That was a side of him I didn't see often. It was common for him to voice his ire in situations, but when he got really angry, he was quiet. I didn't like to see him like that.

Without saying anything, Connor moved to the door and began to leave the office. I knew it would be best to let him go, to give him time to cool off before I tried to talk to him again, but I had put this off for so long already. I was loath to wait any longer for resolution. I wanted my husband back. I wanted us to act like a family again. So, I followed him. I followed him to the hallway and up the stairs. I followed him into the bedroom and stood at the door as he began to gather his gear. I knew he was going to leave with the excuse of hunting. I also knew that was a lie. He just wanted to get away from me. He would wander the woods, only to return when all the lights in the house were out and he thought I was asleep.

"Don't do this," I said as he approached the door where I was standing with my arms crossed over my chest.

Connor said nothing, he only attempted to go around me. When I refused to give him space to get out of the room, he met my eyes. Inside his were a deep stony, pain that hurt me deeply.

"Move," he ordered.

I opened my mouth with the intention of telling him no. I knew if I declined, he would resort to exiting the house through the window. I knew Connor was going to leave one way or another. It would be futile to try to get him to stay, to try to force him to talk to me. Realizing that, I pressed my back against the frame and gave him the room he needed to leave. Connor stepped by me, not pausing long enough to speak. As he made his way deliberately to the stairs, I called out to him. It surprised me that he actually hesitated when I did so. Maybe it was because my voice almost broke when I said his name.

"You're not the only one who's hurting," I told him in a weak tone.

Connor glanced over his shoulder at me, meeting my eyes for just a second before I felt the sting of tears and looked away. A second later, I heard his footfalls as he descended the steps and the muffled sound of the door closing as he left. For a few moments, I considered going after him. That had been my plan when I began this endeavor. But my resolve had faded. I decided that I would suffer in silence, just like Connor did. It hurt that I couldn't have my husband – the man I had sworn to spend the rest of my life with – here when we needed each other. But that was how he wanted it.

As I lay in bed weeping late that night, I began to wonder if what I wanted even mattered to Connor. I honestly wasn't sure it did. Not right now.

That thought only made me cry harder.