Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMC98G9614HMCQXY92A74P

Rory pushed open the heavy oak door of The Raven's Nest, the familiar scent of aged wood and whiskey greeting her as she stepped into the dimly lit bar. Her eyes scanned the room, seeking a familiar face among the scattering of patrons. Then, across the room, she spotted him - Silas, his auburn hair now streaked with grey, seated at the far end of the bar, nursing a tumbler of amber liquid. A surge of emotions rose within her as she wove between the tables, her footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. It had been years, nearly a decade, since she had last seen Silas, her old handler and mentor from her brief stint with MI6. Back then, she had been a different person - headstrong, reckless, driven by a need to prove herself. But the woman who now approached Silas was worlds apart from that young operative. As she drew near, Silas looked up, his hazel eyes widening with recognition. "Rory?" he said, his deep voice laced with surprise. "Is that you?" Rory offered him a small, almost sheepish smile. "Hello, Silas. It's been a while." She gestured to the empty stool beside him. "Do you mind if I...?" "Not at all," Silas replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he gestured for her to take a seat. "Please, make yourself comfortable." Rory settled onto the stool, her fingers tracing the worn leather as she studied the man before her. Time had weathered Silas' features, etching lines around his eyes and mouth, but the underlying strength and calm authority she remembered were still there. "I... I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again," she admitted softly, her bright blue eyes searching his face. Silas nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "Likewise," he murmured. "It's been a long time, Rory." His gaze drifted to the scar on her wrist, a silent acknowledgment of the distance that had grown between them. "Too long," Rory agreed, her fingers self-consciously covering the faint crescent-shaped mark. "I, uh, I'm glad to see you, Silas. Truly." She paused, her brow furrowing slightly. "How have you been? I mean, I heard you left MI6, but..." She trailed off, unsure of how to broach the topic. Silas let out a soft chuckle, the sound tinged with a hint of wistfulness. "Retired, more or less," he replied, glancing down at the silver signet ring adorning his right hand. "After Prague, I... well, let's just say the field work became a bit too much for these old bones." He tapped his left leg, the slight limp in his gait more pronounced as he did so. Rory winced sympathetically. "I'm sorry to hear that," she murmured, recalling the details of the botched operation that had left Silas with a permanent injury. "I can't imagine how difficult that must have been." "It was," Silas admitted, his gaze drifting to the amber liquid swirling in his glass. "But I suppose it was also a... a wakeup call, in a way." He met Rory's gaze, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes. "Too many missed opportunities, too many chances not taken. I needed a change." Rory's heart clenched at the weight of his words, the unspoken regret that hung between them. She knew all too well the cost of missed chances, the heavy burden of unfulfilled dreams. "I understand," she said softly, her fingers tightening around the edge of the bar. Silas studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "And what about you, Rory?" he asked, his voice low. "What have you been up to all these years?" Rory exhaled slowly, her gaze drifting to the amber liquid in her own glass. "A lot, if I'm being honest," she murmured. "After I left MI6, I..." She paused, her lips twisting into a wry smile. "Well, let's just say I took the scenic route to get where I am now." Silas arched a brow, his expression curious. "And where is that, exactly?" he prompted gently. Rory's smile faded, a shadow passing over her features. "Nowhere, really," she admitted, her voice tinged with a hint of self-deprecation. "I... I tried going back to school, pursuing that Pre-Law degree I'd always dreamed of. But..." She shook her head, her fingers tightening around her glass. "It just wasn't me, you know? I was drowning, suffocating under the weight of other people's expectations." Silas nodded slowly, his gaze never wavering from her face. "So what did you do?" Rory's lips quirked in a rueful smile. "I ran," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I ran from everything - the degree, the ex, the life I thought I was supposed to have. I ran until I ended up here, working a dead-end job and living in a flat above a bar." She let out a soft, mirthless laugh. "Not exactly the grand plan I had in mind, but..." She shrugged, her eyes meeting Silas' with a hint of vulnerability. "It's better than the alternative, I suppose." Silas was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached out and placed his hand over Rory's, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry, Rory," he murmured, his voice thick with empathy. "I had no idea." Rory blinked back the sudden sting of tears, her throat tightening with emotion. "It's not your fault, Silas," she said, offering him a watery smile. "I... I made my choices, for better or worse." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "But you're right, I've... I've missed a lot of opportunities. Chances I'll never get back." Silas nodded, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand in a gentle, comforting gesture. "That may be true," he said softly, "but that doesn't mean you can't still create new ones." His eyes held hers, a spark of determination flickering within their hazel depths. "You're a strong, capable woman, Rory. I've always known that." Rory felt a lump form in her throat, emotion welling up within her. "I don't know if I'm that person anymore," she whispered, her gaze dropping to their hands. "Then perhaps it's time to find out," Silas murmured, giving her hand another gentle squeeze. "The world is full of possibilities, Rory. All you have to do is reach out and take them." Rory lifted her gaze, her bright blue eyes meeting Silas' with a newfound sense of determination. "Then... then I suppose it's time I start," she said, her voice steadier than it had been in years. Silas smiled, the warmth in his expression a silent reassurance. "I'll be here, Rory," he said, "whenever you're ready." And in that moment, Rory knew that no matter how much time had passed, Silas would always be the steadfast anchor she needed to weather the storms ahead.