April 24, 2022

I took my time in the bath. I couldn't remember the last time I had relaxed in a tub and it wasn't as if I had to rush because other people needed in the room. There were two more bathrooms they could use.

The main reason I took my time was because I was avoiding Connor. There was a reason I had never mentioned any of my thoughts on politics to him before. Partly because they weren't valid in the 1700s as the government I was familiar with did not yet exist. And partly because I knew it would upset him. Connor had naive ideals when it came to how the country should function. Had I told him the future would be so far from what he wished, he would not have believed me. He would have thought he could change it. It wasn't worth arguing about.

Now, though, there was no way to keep him from knowing just how flawed the system was. I didn't want to be the one to explain it to him. And I had never intended to tell him that I thought he was wrong for thinking everyone should have the freedoms he dreamed of. Most people could not be trusted to navigate their own destiny. Too many immoral choices were made. Humanity needed to be governed. It was the only way to ensure peace. My views of what America really needed was less like a democracy and more akin to a dictatorship. I knew it would make Connor angry if I expressed that.

Connor was in the bedroom, seated on the bed when I entered. I tried not to let any of my aggravation show. Not only had the political conversation unnerved me, but Jack's story about my mother had left me confused. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to feel about someone who cared less about me than getting high.

"I'm sure there's still hot water left if you want to take a shower," I told my husband.

Connor nodded and stood up. "Maybe later. Right now, I think we should talk."

I groaned internally. That was exactly what I didn't want. I tried to play it off as no big deal. "About what?"

"You've changed, Faith."

Again, I felt reluctant to respond. I didn't want to have this conversation with him. I didn't want him to tell me how he disliked my opinionated way of speaking or the cavalier attitude I held toward the world in general. I had managed to hide it well when I was stuck in a time where women didn't have many rights. It also helped that he was gone so very much. Back in my own time, I had reverted to old habits. That was just the way of things.

"Things have changed," I told him. "I'm the same as I always was."

A frown shown on his features. "The woman I married would have never admitted she didn't support my cause."

"I never said I didn't support you," I responded. "And not agreeing with you isn't the same thing. I've always stood behind you."

"You humored me."

"No, I didn't."

"You did." I started to respond, but he didn't give me the chance. "Why else would you have kept from me how inconsequential my actions would be?"

"You wouldn't have believed me."

I could tell from his expression that he thought I was lying. I tried not to let it anger me. I knew he was upset. I wanted to be understanding, but this was a situation neither of us had ever considered before. At least when I was in the eighteenth century, I was somewhat familiar with how things worked. Connor had no idea what he was in for. This was strange and unfamiliar territory to him. I wanted to be supportive, to help him get through this with as little distress as possible. Just like he and Achilles had done for me.

"I honestly thought you might make a difference," I told him.

Connor glanced at me. He thought I was humoring him again. Maybe I was. I just didn't want to argue. "You are smarter than that."

"Things change, Connor. That's the only thing anyone can count on in life. And I'm not the only one who is different than they used to be."

"In what way am I different?" he ask.

I just shrugged with no intention of answering. I didn't know what to say anyhow. Connor was different. I just couldn't explain how. It was something in the way he thought and the way he spoke. I had hoped it was just our situation, but I knew better. He had been through something that had left a mark on his soul. I was too afraid to know what it was.

"If I ask you something, will you be honest with me?"

"I have always been honest with you, Faith."

I ignored the implication that I had not done the same and asked my question, knowing he wouldn't like it. "Have you moved on yet?"

He looked at me. He was quiet for a very long time. "I don't understand what you mean."

That was a lie. I called him out on it. "Yes, you do. We both know Desmond is your ancestor, not mine. I'm not stupid. I don't blame you for getting remarried. I want you to be happy." That hurt so bad to say, but I managed to keep the quiver from my voice as I spoke. "I'm not upset about it. I just want to know. Have you been with anyone else?"

A very long silence. Then Connor looked at me. I had my answer. He knew it.

"I think that's the problem," I told him.

"You left me." There was a vehemence in his voice I had rarely heard before. And never had that tone been directed at me. I said nothing, thinking that the best course. "I was well aware of your actions, Faith. I knew what you were planning, I only hoped I was wrong. When I returned home and found your wedding band on the nightstand, I could no longer pretend. My suspicions were confirmed. You chose to face my father knowing you didn't stand a chance against him."

I still remained silent. It was no surprise that Connor knew what I had been thinking when I faced Haytham. He knew me better than I knew myself. He always had. I didn't look at him as he came to stand in front of me.

"Why didn't you speak to me?"

"I couldn't." He made a noise of disbelief. One that irritated me. "I couldn't. You don't understand, Connor."

"What don't I understand, Faith?" His voice had risen. He was mad. "Losing Abby was hard on both of us. Why was your suffering so much different than mine?"

"It wasn't just about Abby, Connor!" I exclaimed. "It was about me! Those fucking dreams I was having were driving me crazy."

"I know."

"No, you don't know!"

"I saw how the nightmares affected you!"

"You saw what I let you see," I told him. "You have no idea what I was really going through. How confusing it was to feel like I was in one place and wake up with no idea what the hell was going on. Half the time I didn't even know what was real, which life was the dream and which wasn't. I didn't know how to cope with that. I thought I was losing my mind!"

I have no idea if he believed me or not. It was true, all of it. When I dreamed, I was back in my old life. And it felt real. The people, the places, the experiences. All of it was happening to me on a conscious level. Just as my life with Connor was. I pretended to be happy, but I was miserable. For two years I was confused and uncertain.

"I ask again, why did you not speak to me?"

I didn't answer a second time. It would have made no difference. It was an endless loop. There was no way I could make him understand. And I really didn't want to try right now.

I walked over to the bed, picked up my phone and one of the pillows. "I'm sleeping on the couch."

"Faith…"

"I just want to be alone," I spoke as I left the room.

I was relieved no one was in the common room when I went downstairs. The sofa was little more than thin cushions on a metal frame. Not comfortable at all. But I didn't care. It beat having to explain the inexplicable to Connor all night. Nothing I said would have changed anything. That's why I had never tried to talk to him before. It was something that was literally impossible for anyone to relate to unless they experienced it for themselves.

I wasn't even close to falling asleep when Jack came out of the office sometime later. He walked over and stood behind where I was laying. A sigh escaped him as he leaned down, resting his arms on the back of the couch. I tried to think of a nice way to tell him to leave me alone. I did not want to explain my marital problems with my father.

Luckily, Jack didn't ask me about why I was in the living room not the bedroom. His question was far from what I thought it would be.

"Would you like a blanket?"

I shook my head without thinking. After doing so, I became aware of the chill in the room. Knowing Jack was still standing behind me I gave him a soft affirmative. He was only gone for a moment. When he came back to the living area, he covered me with a thin quilt as if I was a child. Jack started to say something to me, but his phone beeped. He cursed quietly as he looked at it.

"Something wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing you need to be concerned with," he answered. I wasn't sure if he was being condescending or honest. "Good night, Faith."

"Night," I mumbled.

I thought Jack would go upstairs after that. Instead, he went back into the office. He spent a lot of time in there. I wondered what he did. I know he spoke to other Assassins regularly, but had no idea of the reason. I also knew Desmond acted as if he was a person of authority. I wondered if he was a mentor, like Achilles had been. He didn't seem the type.

I pondered the differences between the man I thought of as a father and my actual father until I felt myself drift off. I was entering a deep doze when I felt a light touch on my forehead. I didn't open my eyes. I knew it was Jack. I knew he had brushed some hair away from my face.

I actually didn't mind that he did.