It was Connor's wish that I not be a part of his efforts to bring down the Templar's remaining in the Colonies. Even with my training he felt I was not yet ready to face an adversary. I know his reluctance stemmed from concern for my safety. But I also knew that this was a fight I couldn't avoid. I was a part of it, whether my husband wanted me to be or not.

It wasn't only my dreams that gave me the desire to aid in the Assassin's quest, it was my sense of duty. Duty to my husband and to Achilles. As well as a duty to myself for whatever part my presence had played in the future's outcome. This was something I needed to do. It was something that could not be avoided. Connor would not have understood that. I didn't try to explain it to him.

Not long after Connor left on his beloved Aquila, I began to ready my things for my own journey. Last Christmas Connor had commissioned Ellen to make me clothing that resembled his own attire. Even though I didn't find the prospect of the Brotherhood's unique style appealing, his gesture had been sweet. I had put the outfit away with no interest in wearing it. Yet, it and my knife were the only things I packed as I prepared to leave.

I had already told Diana that I would be absent, and she had agreed to stay and care for Achilles until my return. To the old man, I had said nothing. But my silence didn't keep him from figuring out my intentions.

I was in the kitchen gathering a small ration of food to take with me when I heard the aged voice greet me from the doorway. I turned to see the old man leaning weakly against the frame. His complexion was lighter than it should be, and his breathing labored. It broke my heart to see him in such a condition. I knew that losing him was inevitable, but the idea still pained me greatly.

"You shouldn't be up," I told him. There was no authority in my voice. It sounded meek and frightened to my own ears. I knew Achilles picked up on my distress. It did nothing to help my case. A lecture from me now would be pointless. I knew that as well as he did.

Achilles waved a hand, dismissing my claim. His dark eyes regarded me with a fierce intellect that surprised me. Though his body was frail, his mind was as sharp as ever. "What are you doing, child?"

"I'm going to Boston to see about getting you some more medicine," I lied.

The fib was met with a disbelieving huff from Achilles. He moved toward the table. The few steps he managed before I got to him were wobbly and lacked any confidence. I put his arm over my shoulders and led him slowly to the bench. He let out a groan of exertion as he sat down, motioning for me to sit beside him. I did as he wanted.

"You know how foolish it is for you to face Haytham with such limited skills."

My eyes moved away from Achilles. I stared at the floor, shrugging innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Achilles shook his head. "You're no better at lying now than you were when first we met."

I got a strong urge to weep at how saddened his voice had become. In all the years I had known Achilles, he had rarely shown any form of emotion. It was uncharacteristic for him to do so now. The atypical behavior made me realize just how close to the end we were. Not only the old man's end, but mine as well. I knew deep down that I wouldn't be returning to the Homestead. I tried to deny such feelings. I played them off as a pessimistic outlook. In the back of my mind, I knew my time here was almost up.

I took Achilles' hand and began to rise. "You need to get back to bed, Pops."

His brow wrinkled at the use of the moniker. It had been some time since I had last called him that. Abby had taken up the mantle of referring to her adopted grandfather as such. Since she had begun talking, my use of the nickname had been for her sake. Achilles had not been called by that since Abby's death. The realization of that fact was painfully evident on his features.

I paused in standing as Achilles' hand gripped my own with a strength I had not been aware he still possessed. His gaze met mine. His eye pleaded silently. "Don't do this, Faith."

My mouth worked as I wondered how to respond. I wasn't sure he would understand my resolve if I explained to him my necessity to confront my husband's father. He – like Connor – did not see this as my fight. I wished for some profound reason to sway his opinion but was unable to provide any enlightenment for either of us.

"I have to," was all I said.

Disappointment accompanied by sorrow made Achilles look away from me. I hated that he couldn't look at me, but also felt relief that I no longer had to undergo the weight of his displeased stare. Achilles had never lost his ability to make me feel like a child in need of his approval. No matter how old I got, I would always crave his validation.

Without a word I helped him to his feet and led him across the hall. Assisting the old man into his bed reminded me of the first time I had been in this room. It had been the first thing I had seen when my eyes opened that day so long ago. The memory was a bittersweet one, bringing with it all the misfortune that had befallen me during my eighteenth-century life. Though I wished I had not experienced such sorrow, the joy combined with such recollections balanced the scale. If I had the chance, I would do everything all over again.

The sudden urge to commemorate my final goodbye to the old man who had shown me kindness and purpose prompted me to kiss his forehead softly. The heat of his skin was above normal but held a chill just the same. I didn't know what to say as I pulled the covers up to his chin. Achilles didn't look at me. His gaze remained fixed on the ceiling.

Using easy steps, I left the room, pausing in the doorway to glance back at the man I cared so much for. I wanted to speak words that expressed my gratitude and appreciation for all he had done. Nothing seemed right. I left without saying anything.