Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMG0XKY52SRAWYGM0W7Y2G

The Raven's Nest was cloaked in its usual veil of smoky intimacy, the dim lighting and muted chatter creating an air of secrecy that had long ago become Silas Blackwood's refuge. As he wiped down the bar, the familiar motions of his hands belying the slow ache in his knee, he let his gaze drift to the entrance — an old habit, honed by years in the intelligence field, of monitoring who came and went. The bell above the door chimed, and Silas looked up, mildly curious. His eyebrows rose as a tall, slender figure stepped inside, the neon-green glow of the sign outside casting sharp angles across an all-too-familiar face. "Aurora Carter," he murmured, the name rolling off his tongue with a hint of surprise. It had been years since he'd last seen her, the once vibrant young woman who had lived above his bar, her laughter and quick wit a welcome distraction from the shadows that so often clung to him. Rory's gaze swept the room, and for a moment, Silas saw a glimmer of the girl he remembered — the one who had sought refuge here, her bright blue eyes alight with a quiet strength that belied her youth. But then the moment passed, and Silas watched as her features settled into a carefully neutral expression, the lines of her face more pronounced, her movements more guarded. "Silas," she acknowledged, inclining her head as she approached the bar. "It's been a while." "That it has," Silas replied, reaching for a glass and pouring a generous measure of Scotch. He slid it across the bartop, his eyes searching hers. "I have to say, I'm a bit surprised to see you back in London. Last I heard, you were—" "Avoiding it, I know," Rory interjected, her tone wry as she accepted the glass, her long fingers curling around the crystal. "Circumstances have changed." She took a sip, the amber liquid swirling as she tilted the glass, her gaze distant. Silas waited, letting the silence stretch between them. He had learned long ago that the best way to draw Rory out was to simply give her space, to let her find the words in her own time. And sure enough, after a beat, she continued. "I'm...I'm sorry, Silas. For disappearing like that. It wasn't fair to you, or to anyone else." She shook her head, a rueful smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I suppose I was running, in the end. Running from myself, from the life I thought I wanted." Silas nodded slowly, his expression understanding. "You always did have a talent for that," he said, his voice low. "Leaving when things got...difficult." Rory flinched, and Silas saw the flash of hurt in her eyes, quickly masked. "I know," she murmured, taking another sip of her drink. "I've regretted it more times than I can count." Silas watched her, the weight of years passing between them as he considered his next words. "So what brought you back?" he asked finally, his gaze searching her face. "Last I heard, you were working in Dublin, making a name for yourself." Rory's lips quirked in a rueful smile. "Dublin," she echoed, a hint of bitterness in her tone. "Yes, that...that didn't quite work out as planned." She paused, her fingers tightening around the glass. "I suppose you could say I'm looking for a new start. A chance to...to right some old wrongs." Silas arched a brow, but before he could respond, the bell above the door chimed again, and a group of patrons spilled in, their laughter and chatter cutting through the hush that had settled between them. Rory glanced over her shoulder, her posture stiffening slightly, and Silas saw the flicker of unease in her eyes. "Come on," he said quietly, gesturing towards the back of the bar. "Let's talk somewhere more private." Rory hesitated for only a moment before nodding, following him through the crowd and into the dimly lit back room, the door clicking shut behind them, muffling the noise from the main bar. Silas moved to the corner, retrieving a bottle of aged whiskey and pouring two generous measures, handing one to Rory. "So," he said, settling into one of the worn armchairs, "what happened in Dublin?" Rory sank into the chair across from him, cradling the glass in her hands. For a long moment, she was silent, her gaze fixed on the amber liquid. Then, with a soft sigh, she began to speak. "After I left London, I...I thought I had it all figured out, you know?" She shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "The perfect job, the perfect life. I was going to make a difference, to prove that I could be more than just the scared little girl who ran away." She paused, taking a sip of her drink. "But it didn't take long for the cracks to start showing." Silas listened, his expression grim, as Rory recounted the long hours, the endless bureaucracy, the growing sense of disillusionment that had slowly crept in. "I thought I was making a difference," she murmured, her voice tinged with bitterness. "But in the end, I was just another cog in the machine, and the work felt...hollow." She fell silent, her gaze dropping to her hands, and Silas could see the weight of her words in the slump of her shoulders, the tension in her frame. After a moment, he leaned forward, his voice low and steady. "So what changed? What brought you back?" Rory's eyes met his, and Silas was struck by the raw vulnerability he saw there, a stark contrast to the guarded, composed woman he had first encountered. "I...I realized that I had been running for so long, running from my past, from myself, that I'd forgotten who I was." She paused, taking a steadying breath. "And then I got a call from Eva. She...she needed help, Silas. And I couldn't just sit back and do nothing, not this time." Silas nodded, understanding dawning in his gaze. "So you came back to London. To help your friend." "Yes," Rory whispered, her fingers tightening around the glass. "And to...to try and make amends. For all the ways I've failed, both here and in Dublin." She met his gaze, her eyes brimming with a quiet resolve. "I'm done running, Silas. It's time I faced my demons, once and for all." Silas held her gaze, the unspoken weight of years passing between them. Then, slowly, he raised his glass, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Welcome back, Rory."