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Silco's breaths were quiet. The dark evening was oddly silent for Zaun’s standards, making the muffled sound of raindrops all that the man could hear.
Since the sudden shut down of Vander’s business, not a soul dared to venture on to the Last Drop. Especially during the late hours of the day, when even the most menacing big-shots of the lanes avoided uncrowded places, in order to prevent being found alone by some shimmer addict who had a vial too much.
Nevertheless, he was there. Not a single goon in sight.
He himself never thought he would have been walking somewhere that dangerous without his right-hand woman beside him. Not after the accident.
But after Vander’s demise he felt a shift in the air, and the newly found power as Eye of Zaun gave him confidence that no-one would have tried harming him without expecting very injurious consequences.
And that was a visit he had to do alone.
It didn’t take him long to reach his destination, a pale building which fiercely stood out amongst all the others. Not many people would have recognised it, without a crowd on the inside and without the glowy sign in sight.
All that the bar had meant had been wiped from existence along with its name.
We’ll have to fix that, he thought.
Stepping through the threshold the realisation hit him.
He hadn’t been there in some time. Actually, in quite a lot of time.
But still, close to nothing had changed.
“How long has it been?” he muttered to himself not expecting any answer. All the time flown without stepping inside the bar did not matter. All that he knew, was that the Last Drop, the now decaying structure, had been his hideout. And Vander’s too.
Vander.
Oh, Vander.
He silently sighed as he took in everything he could.
It really seemed like that place had been frozen in time.
The counter, as clean as always, under and behind which the former owner always used to stack glasses and bottles; the stools, on which he so often sat alongside Felicia, while waiting for Vander to pour something good in their glasses; even the record player, that foolish old object, hadn’t been moved an inch.
He felt a sharp pain in his chest, close to his heart. In a mere moment, every thought, every memory of that place and who he had shared it with reappeared in his mind.
Felicia. Vander.
He had lost both in the war, but he knew he wouldn’t have exchanged his vengeance for anything.
And yet, he stood there, wondering what could have been if that night nothing went wrong.
Just thinking about him stung .
He tentatively took some steps, still unsure if he really wanted to stay there and bear all that pain, until he finally reached the counter.
As he got closer and closer, he realised it wasn’t as clean as he had initially thought.
A thick layer of dust was covering it, and in a second all the weight of the last months shook him down. He fell on his stool like an autumnal leaf, violently forced to descend by the strong and cold wind that were his memories, not really caring about dirtying his perfectly tailored clothes.
He had so desperately wished to find comfort in that place, as he used to so many years ago. But that wasn’t possible.
Vander would have never let that place go. He was everywhere, all around him in that very moment. He could see him, sitting there beside him, a good glass of liquor in his hand as he went on about his day; on the other side of the bar, mixing spirits together to create a new drink just to get his attention; even on the floor, rolling and barking with laughter after closing time.
He had hoped to glance behind the counter and see him, ready to prepare Silco’s favourite while constantly shooting quick glances at him.
He had been fighting his feelings for far too long.
Silco had despised Vander’s choices, of course. How could he not, after what he had done to him in the Pilt?
But he reached the conclusion that he never hated him.
He was too well tangled in his soul.
Tears would have been streaming down his face, if only his left eye could still produce them.
Instead, a single one dropped on his right thigh.
He could not be seen like that. His facade could not bend before the public eye.
Vander was the only man who could destroy The Eye of Zaun, even in death.
Silco was not the same naive boy of so many years ago. And neither was The Hound, six feet under the ground. So why did it hurt so much? Not having his affection, his presence, his trust .
He had no idea what to do with his life. He was lost.
Hopeless. Helpless.
But yet, he realised he was not completely alone. Nor actually hopeless.
He did have something to hope for. And Janna knew, he did.
Jinx, the girl born in fire, was all he needed. Together, they could create the new nation from scratch.
But he couldn’t help letting his mind wander to how it could have been if Vander were still there to see it. To see him , as her father.
“I’m sorry.” he murmured under his breath, the first time in months he wasn’t telling a lie.
“I won’t fail you again.”
And with that last promise, both directed to the man and the woman who still haunted him, he left the building into the night.