Run: 2026-05-27-01KSMEWGHE7J7QJ75D40F97C70

The Raven's Nest was quiet, the neon sign above flickering on and off in the evening gloom. Rory slipped in through the door, the bell jingling softly as she entered. A blast of warm air and the low murmur of conversation enveloped her, and her eyes quickly adjusted to the dim lighting, scanning the faces of the patrons. At the far end of the bar, a figure sat hunched over in a leather chair, half-hidden by the shadows. The auburn hair streaked with grey gave way to their identity, and her heart caught in her throat. It couldn't be. Could it? "Silas?" He stirred, turning his face, and her breath caught in her chest as the stark lines, the deep crevices on his once-handsome face, looked as though they could have been carved with a knife. "Rory?" His voice was hoarse, but recognizably Silas'. She took a seat across from him, marveling at the lack of recognition in his eyes. "God, it's me," she laughs, shaking her head slightly. "When did you get so old?" she grins, nudging him. "I could say the same for you, kid," Silas retorted. Time had carved out hollows beneath his cheekbones, and the chickenpox scar on his right forearm now stood out in sharp relief against the sunken flesh. "I never thought I'd see the day when Rory Carter came back to London." He smiled, but it was thin, and his eyes didn't quite crinkle at the corners the way they used to. "I've changed a bit, haven't I? Time is a cruel mistress." Rory looked away, her gaze landing on his hands, seeing the same silver signet ring he'd always worn. "You know," Silas said after a pause. "I never thought I'd miss the way things used to be. The open caseboard at the front desk, shaking our heads at the latest badaper, gohome by midnight, get 4 hours' sleep and be back by 6am ready to deliver." Rory laughed, but Silas didn't join in. "I think about it often, you know." Rory glanced up, surprised. "I thought you were content, running this bar, living this life." "I supposed I thought I was, for a while," Silas said. "But sometimes, at night, I sit in here, and I remember, and I feel like a chump." "You could always come back," Rory said. "You know that, don't you?" Silas' eyes metastasized into slits at that, and Rory saw there was no humor left there. "No." They sat in silence until Rory tilts her head, peering at the shadow he could never shed, lightly touching the rim of her glass. "You know, sometimes I think we shouldn't have run. Maybe if we hadn't-" "I know. I've thought about that a lot. Running. Leaving. All of it. Maybe we should have stayed, fought for our lives. But going your own way, making your own choices - that's the ultimate act of defiance." You came back. After all this time. "Yes, I did," Aurora admitted. "For all the reasons that I don't understand even now. And now," she said, quietly. "...what?" "I came back because, in the end, they were our people. They saved me. You saved me." Silas reached out, taking her hand, and curled his fingers around her own. "It wasn't easy, coming back here. I didn't want to lie to them-" "I know," Silas said. "I understand, Rory. I understand what it's like to have a past that you're trying to run from." He released her hand, leaning back in his chair. "Did you ever think you could come back and start over? Go back to the way things were?" Certainly for a month or two. "I did," Silas said. "When I first got out, I thought I could make a fresh start, pretend that none of it had ever happened. But..." He shrugged. "It never really goes away, does it? The things we've seen, the things we've done. They stay with us, no matter how much we try to run from them." Rory nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. "We're not the same people we were when we left, Silence." She said his name softly, intentionally, for the first time in years. "None of us are. But maybe that's okay. Maybe it's okay to have changed, to have grown, to have become something that you never expected." Silas smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners the way they used to. "Maybe you're right." They sat in comfortable silence for a while, lost in their own thoughts, until Rory finally spoke again. "I'm sorry, Silas. For everything. For running. For not being there when you needed me." Silas reached out, taking her hand again. "I'm sorry too, Rory. For everything. For not being the man I wanted to be. For not being the father I wanted to be." Silas' eyes glistened as they looked into each other's eyes, watching the reflected faces of the people they had once been shimmer and our morph away, leaving behind the faded echoes of their former selves. Rory squeezed his hand, holding on tight. "And now what?"