Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPCBW0MH8Y0803Y6NTM5VV

The green neon sign above the entrance of The Raven's Nest cast a gaudy glow on the damp pavement of Soho's fog-shrouded streets. Rory pushed open the door, the bell above it letting out a tired jingle as she slipped into the dimly lit bar. Silas, behind the counter, raised an eyebrow in her direction, his hazel eyes flicking from her to the menu in his hand before settling back on her. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the silence between them a palpable thing. It had been years since they'd last spoken, years since Rory had fled London for Cardiff. She'd left behind a life she couldn't face, a past that still lingered like a shadow in the back of her mind. And now, here she was, standing in Silas' bar, her eyes locked on the man who'd been her closest friend, her confidant, her guide in the darkest of times. The years had not been kind to Silas. His grey-streaked auburn hair was longer, his beard neatly trimmed, and his eyes, once bright with a spark of mischief, now seemed to hold a world of weariness. A slight limp in his left leg gave him a slightly off-kilter gait as he made his way around the counter, his silver signet ring glinting in the bar's muted light. "Rory," he said, his voice low and gravelly, as he opened his arms in a warm, if cautious, welcome. Rory hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, into the circle of his arms. The air was thick with unspoken questions, with the weight of time and the quiet regret that seemed to hang between them like a challenge. They stood there for a long moment, holding each other, the bar's patrons blurred into the background as they reconnected, the familiarity of his arms, the scent of his skin, a balm to the soul. Rory felt a lump form in her throat as she pulled back, her eyes scanning the bar, her gaze settling on the old maps and black-and-white photographs that adorned the walls. "God, it's been ages," she said, trying to keep her voice light, but her eyes betraying the depth of her emotions. "Ages," Silas echoed, his face softening into a warm, gentle smile. "I'd almost forgotten what you looked like." Rory laughed, feeling a little shy, a little self-conscious under his gaze. "I'm sure I've changed a bit since Cardiff." "You look different," Silas said, his eyes running over her, taking in the straight shoulder-length black hair, the bright blue eyes that sparkled with a hint of mischief. "But you still have that same spark, that same quick wit. It's like no time has passed at all." Rory felt a pang of uncertainty at his words. Had she really changed that little? Or was it just that Silas didn't know her the way he used to? The way she used to be? The way she'd hoped to be, but circumstances had taken from her. They sat down at the bar, the stool creaking beneath Rory as she perched on it. Silas slid a glass of red wine in front of her, his eyes never leaving hers. "I have to ask," he said, his voice low and serious, "what happened? What drove you back to London?" Rory felt a familiar surge of defensiveness at his question, but it was tempered by the warmth in his eyes, the genuine concern that seemed to emanate from him. She took a sip of the wine, feeling it burn down her throat as she began to tell him the story, the one she'd kept hidden for so long. "The law didn't work out," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I tried to make a life for myself in Cardiff, but it was just a shell of what I wanted. I felt stuck, trapped. And then there was Evan." Silas' eyes darkened at the mention of the name, his face twisting into a scowl. "I'm so sorry, Rory," he said, his voice filled with regret. "I had no idea. You never said a word." Rory shrugged, feeling a little defensive. "I didn't want to burden you with my problems. Besides, you had your own demons to deal with." Silas nodded, his eyes dropping to the floor as he reached for his glass. For a moment, they sat in silence, the only sound the murmur of the bar's patrons, the clinking of glasses, and the soft hum of the neon sign outside. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Rory," Silas said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry I didn't see the signs." Rory's eyes pricked with tears as she reached out, her hand closing over his, the warmth of his skin a comfort. "You didn't know, Si," she said, her voice shaking. "You couldn't have known. I was so good at hiding it." Silas squeezed her hand, his eyes locked on hers. "I should have seen it," he said, his voice a little stronger now. "I should have been there for you. You were my friend, Rory. My sister. I should have seen it." Rory felt a lump form in her throat as she leaned forward, her forehead pressing against Silas', the tears she'd been holding back finally spilling down her cheeks. They sat there for a long moment, the bar's patrons blurring into the background as they held each other, the weight of time and unspoken regret finally given voice. As the night wore on, the bar's music grew louder, the crowd thicker, but Silas and Rory sat, lost in their own world, the past and present colliding in a messy, beautiful dance. And in that moment, as they held each other, as they spoke of the past and the present, Rory felt a weight lift off her shoulders, a weight she'd carried for so long. She felt seen, she felt heard, she felt understood. And in the quiet, dark recesses of her heart, she felt a spark of hope, a spark that she'd thought had long since been extinguished. As the night drew to a close, as the music died down and the patrons began to filter out, Silas leaned back, his eyes scanning the bar as he searched for his staff. Rory stood, her hand brushing against his as she pulled back. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for listening, for understanding. It's been a long time coming." Silas smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're welcome, Rory," he said, his voice low and rough. "You're always welcome here. In my bar, in my life. You're family." Rory felt a lump form in her throat as she nodded, a smile spreading across her face. She leaned forward, her lips brushing against his cheek in a soft, gentle kiss. "I'll see you soon," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Silas nodded, his eyes locked on hers. "I'll be here," he said, his voice low and steady. "I'll be here, waiting for you." As Rory slipped out into the cool night air, the fog swirling around her like a shroud, she felt a sense of peace settle over her, a sense of belonging she'd thought she'd lost forever. And as she walked away from The Raven's Nest, the neon sign's glow fading into the distance, she knew that she'd found her way back, that she'd found her place in the world.