AI The Raven's Nest was quiet for a Thursday evening. A few regulars hunched over their drinks at the bar, the soft clink of glassware punctuating the low hum of conversation. Aurora Carter traced the crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist absently as she polished pint glasses behind the counter. The green neon sign outside cast an eerie glow through the front windows, bathing the room in flickering light that played across the old maps and photographs lining the walls.
She glanced up when the door swung open, letting in a gust of chilly London air. The man who stepped inside paused just over the threshold, his gaze sweeping the room with practiced ease . His dark hair was longer than she remembered, streaked with silver at the temples, and faint lines etched his face where there had only been youthful charm before. But those hazel eyes were unmistakable.
"Silas," she said, setting down the glass she'd been polishing. Her voice sounded strange to her own ears.
Silas Blackwood's eyes narrowed, then widened in recognition. A slow smile spread across his face, though it didn't quite reach his eyes . "Rory Carter," he said, his voice warm but tinged with something she couldn't quite place . "As I live and breathe."
He moved toward the bar with that familiar slight limp, his silver signet ring catching the light as he rested his hand on the polished wood. Up close, she could see the years etched more clearly in his face, the shadows beneath his eyes hinting at sleepless nights. He smelled faintly of whiskey and cigars, the scent mingling with something metallic that made her nose itch.
"Thought I'd find you here," he said, sliding onto a stool. His gaze flicked to the scar on her wrist, then back up to meet her eyes. "You've changed."
Her laugh was short and brittle, but nervous. "You're one to talk." She reached for a bottle of his favorite Scotch without thinking, pouring him a generous measure. "What brings you back to London?"
Silas lifted the glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light. "Business," he said simply, before taking a sip. His eyes never left hers over the rim of the glass. "And what about you? Last I heard, you were in Cardiff, studying law."
She shook her head, turning away to rearrange bottles on the back shelf that didn't need rearranging. "That was a lifetime ago," she said, keeping her voice light. "I'm just a delivery girl these days."
"Just a delivery girl," he repeated, his tone skeptical . He set the glass down with a soft thud. "You were never 'just' anything, Rory."
The words hung between them, weighted with unspoken meaning. Aurora felt the familiar pull of their shared history, the magnetic force that had always drawn them together even when they'd been forced apart. She busied herself with wiping down the already spotless counter, anything to avoid meeting his gaze.
"So," she said after a moment , "how's the Spymaster business?"
Silas chuckled, a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "Retirement doesn't suit me," he admitted. "I've been keeping busy."
"I bet." She finally looked up, noting the new lines around his eyes, the way his shoulders seemed to carry an invisible weight . "You look... tired."
"Direct as ever," he said, his smile turning wry . "You haven't lost that, at least."
They fell into an uneasy silence , the years stretching between them like a chasm. Aurora reached for a glass to polish, needing something to do with her hands. Silas watched her with that same unreadable expression, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass.
"Do you ever think about Prague?" he asked suddenly, his voice low .
Her hand stilled on the glass. The memory came unbidden–the cold night, the sound of gunfire, the way Silas had pushed her out of harm's way, taking the bullet meant for her. She'd never forgiven herself for leaving him behind, for following orders instead of staying to make sure he'd be okay.
"Every day," she admitted softly , setting the glass down with trembling hands.
Silas nodded, his expression grim. "Me too."
Another silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words and regrets. Aurora busied herself with wiping down the bar, her movements almost frantic. Silas watched her with that same intense gaze, his fingers tapping restlessly against the polished wood.
"Rory," he said finally, his voice firm . When she didn't look up, he reached across the bar to gently grasp her wrist. "Look at me."
She froze, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet his, and the intensity in his gaze made her heart skip a beat.
"Why did you leave?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper .
Her throat tightened, and she shook her head, unable to find the words. How could she explain the fear that had gripped her, the guilt that had driven her away? How could she tell him that she'd spent every day since wishing she'd had the courage to stay?
Silas released her wrist, leaning back in his seat with a heavy sigh. "You hurt me, Rory," he admitted, his voice rough with emotion . "More than that bullet ever did."
Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. "I know," she whispered, her voice breaking . "I'm so sorry, Si."
He nodded slowly , his expression softening. "I forgave you a long time ago," he said simply. "Even if I didn't understand."
The words were like a balm to her wounded soul, and she felt some of the tension seep from her shoulders. "I never stopped thinking about you," she admitted, her voice barely audible .
Silas smiled then, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. "Good," he said, his tone lightening . "Because I'm not going anywhere this time."
Aurora laughed softly , the sound tinged with relief. "Promise?"
He reached across the bar again, this time to gently squeeze her hand. "Promise," he said firmly . "Besides, someone has to keep an eye on you."
Their laughter mingled, easing some of the tension that had hung heavy between them. Aurora poured herself a drink, her movements steadier now, and they clinked glasses in a silent toast to new beginnings.
As the evening wore on, they fell into an easy rhythm, trading stories and catching each other up on the years they'd missed. Silas told her about his travels, the adventures he'd had and the people he'd met along the way. Aurora shared tales of her life in London, the friends she'd made, and the challenges she'd faced.
There was still much left unsaid, wounds that would take time to heal. But for the first time in years, Aurora felt a sense of peace settle over her. Silas's presence was like a balm to her weary soul, his familiar warmth chasing away the shadows that had lingered for so long.
As the last patrons trickled out of the bar, Silas stood, stretching his long limbs with a groan. "Walk me home?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes holding a deeper meaning .
Aurora nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Lead the way."
They stepped out into the cool night air, the city lights casting a soft glow around them. Silas offered her his arm, and she took it without hesitation, the weight of his presence grounding her in a way nothing else ever could.
As they walked through the quiet streets, the years melted away, leaving only the bond that had always connected them. There would be time to unpack the past, to heal old wounds and forge new paths. But for now, in this moment, they were simply Rory and Si, two old friends finding their way back to each other in the dark.