Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTYNZJFFATJR9ERECKRYCCT

The green neon of The Raven's Nest sign cast an eerie glow over the wet pavement. Aurora Carter pulled her jacket tighter against the London drizzle, the delivery box balanced against her hip. Three years. Three years since she'd last stood on this street corner, three years since she'd fled Cardiff with nothing but a backpack and a broken heart. The heavy oak door of Silas' bar yielded to her push, releasing warmth and the low murmur of conversation into the cool evening air. The familiar scent of aged whiskey and polished wood wrapped around her like a forgotten blanket. The walls, adorned with their collection of old maps and black-and-white photographs, remained unchanged—frozen in time while she had been anything but. She scanned the room instinctively, her eyes landing behind the bar where a figure polished a glass with methodical precision. Grey-streaked auburn hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and the silver signet ring that had always caught the light just so. Silas Blackwood. Six years since their last conversation, though it felt like a lifetime had passed between them. He looked up, his hazel eyes meeting hers across the room. The glass stopped midway through its polishing rotation. Time seemed to hang suspended in the amber lighting of the bar. "Aurora?" The name—not Rory, not Carter, but Aurora—sent a jolt through her. It was the name he'd always used when they were alone, when the weight of the world pressed in on them both. "Silas." Her voice surprised her, steadier than she felt. He set the glass down with deliberate care, his movements betraying the slight limp in his left leg that age had only worsened. "I heard you were back in London." "Word travels fast in your circles." "Some circles never close completely." He gestured to the stool before him. "Drink?" Rory slid onto the leather seat, the delivery box resting at her feet. "Just a soda. I'm still working." Silas raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he poured the drink, ice clinking against glass. The silence between them stretched, filled with the ghosts of conversations past and the weight of all that remained unsaid. "You look different," he finally said, sliding the glass across the polished bar. "Older." "Isn't that the point of time passing?" She ran a hand through her straight black hair, a nervous habit she'd never outgrown. "You haven't changed much. Still running intelligence operations from behind a bar?" "The operations have changed. So has the intelligence." He leaned forward, elbows on the bar, the signet ring glinting. "Last time we spoke, you were determined to make your father proud. Pre-Law at Cardiff, with a promising future ahead." Rory's fingers found the small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist, tracing its outline unconsciously. "Plans change." "So I heard. Something about an abusive ex and a hasty departure." His tone was gentle but probing. "Eva reached out, didn't she?" "You know she did." Rory took a sip of her soda, the cold liquid doing little to quench the heat rising in her cheeks. "You always know everything." "Not everything." Silas turned away briefly to serve another customer, giving her a moment to breathe. When he returned, his expression had softened. "I worried about you, Aurora." "You didn't have to." "Didn't I?" He picked up a cloth, wiping at a spot on the bar that didn't exist. "After Prague, after everything... I thought you understood that people who matter are worth worrying about." The Prague operation. The one that had ended his career in MI6, that had left him with a permanent knee injury and a collection of scars that went far deeper than bone. The operation she had helped him plan, the one he had refused to let her join despite her insistence. "I understood plenty," she said, her voice dropping to match the lowered lights of the bar. "I understood that you make decisions for people without consulting them. That you think you know what's best." His fingers stilled on the bar cloth. "I was trying to protect you." "From what? Living my own life? Making my own mistakes?" She shook her head. "That's the problem with spies, Silas. You think you're saving the world one secret at a time, but really you're just manipulating people to fit your version of reality." The words hung between them, sharper than any knife. Silas straightened, the years of command evident in the set of his shoulders. "And what version of reality are you living in now, Aurora? Delivering food for a Chinese restaurant, living above a bar because it's convenient? Is this the life you imagined when we planned your future?" "At least it's my life. Not one you scripted for me." She stood abruptly, reaching for the delivery box at her feet. "I should go. My shift—" "Wait." His hand shot across the bar, not touching her but creating a barrier she couldn't ignore. "I'm sorry." "For what?" "For everything. For Prague. For pushing you away. For not being the friend you needed when Evan—" He stopped, the name hanging in the air between them. Rory's breath caught. "You knew about Evan?" "I know many things." Silas withdrew his hand, the silver signet ring catching the light as he did. "Including that the people who matter most rarely stay gone forever." She sank back onto the stool, the anger draining out of her as quickly as it had arrived. "Why didn't you say something?" "And what would I have said?" He shook his head. "You had already made your choice. You were leaving Cardiff, leaving him, leaving the life everyone expected of you. My interference wouldn't have helped." "Since when do you care about interference?" A small smile touched her lips, the first genuine one since entering the bar. Silas returned the smile, the lines around his eyes softening. "Since Prague. Since I realized that some things are more important than operations, than secrets, than carefully constructed plans." The weight of his words settled around them, heavier than the London rain outside. Rory looked at her hands, at the crescent scar that marked her past, at the delivery uniform that marked her present. "I missed you, you know," she said quietly. "Even when I was angry with you." "The feeling was mutual." Silas reached beneath the bar, pulling out a small envelope. "I kept this for you. Thought you might come back eventually." Rory took the envelope, recognizing her own handwriting on the front. The letter she had written to him before leaving Cardiff, the one she had never sent. The one that contained all her fears, her dreams, her regrets. "You never opened it." "Some things are meant to be read at the right time." He gestured to the envelope. "Now seems as good as any." With trembling fingers, Rory broke the seal, unfolding the paper that had yellowed slightly with age. Her eyes scanned the words she had written years ago, the words of a younger woman who still believed the world could be saved with the right plan, the right protection, the right person guiding her way. "You were right," she said, refolding the letter. "About everything." Silas reached across the bar, his fingers briefly brushing hers. "No, Aurora. I wasn't right. I was just afraid. And fear makes fools of us all." The sounds of the bar faded into the background as they sat there, two old friends who had lost their way and found each other again in the amber light of The Raven's Nest. The green neon sign continued to cast its glow over the London streets, a beacon for those who knew how to find their way home.