A/N: Sorry about the long delay. I had one killer case of a writer's block, before typing this up rather quickly. I apologize as Silas seems rather OOC to me in this chapter. Personally I'm not very satisfied with it. Also, I desperately need a beta reader, if anyone is interested.

"Hey Silas." Evie said, as the familiar, darkly clothed figure appeared suddenly on the grass next to her. It was unnerving at first, for him to simply appear seemingly out of nowhere, but she had gotten used to it. She got a simple nod of the head in return. Evie rolled his eyes at him in return.

"You're so friendly." She said sarcastically. The albino mumbled something in what sounded like French under his breath.

Silas had formed an unlikely relationship with Evie, not quite a friendship, more of an understanding of each other. He had initially been loath to even talk to a woman, but she was…strange. She had not tried to seduce him, as he had been taught all women would, as they were daughters of the devil. She also had not shunned him because as so many of the Opus Dei sisters (the only decent women, he had been taught) seemed to due.

He had repeatedly ran into her at the park on several occasions, initially accidentally. Silas later found out that she went there every night. Eventually, he had found himself seeking Evie out in the park on purpose. He needed some human contact to keep himself sane- or as close to sane as he could be after what he had done.

He liked to sit and listen to her, but it was a new experience when she asked him questions. He was always used to being told things, listening to people or doing orders. He had never had a chance to express his opinions before. This sudden change had made him somewhat uncomfortable.

"The whole Central line is shut down, it'll be at least an hour before its opened back up. Apparently there was another bomb threat. What are you going to do?" She said giving him a questioning glance.

It took a few moments for what she was saying to register with Silas. He had told her some time before that he lived over in Acton, as it was the first area that came to mind. He certainly didn't want her to know that he was homeless.

"I could wait here or I take a cab."

"It's to hot to be out here that long. Besides, I need to get my groceries home anyway." Evie said as she gestured towards a small bag of goods. "How about you come over for a little while? Don't be stubborn."

Silas pondered her proposition in his mind. It would be nice to be indoors for once. "Okay"

"Good." Evie said, lighting a cigarette before grabbing a hold of her groceries. She eventually led Silas to a Victorian row house about 15 minutes from the park, and into an apartment.

"It's quite small, as you can see." To Evie, this was a bit of an understatement. Although it was a two bedroom flat, each room seemed to be only slightly larger than closet. She disappeared, and the albino sat down on a rather ugly old couch.

"My roommate probably won't be home till much later. She's out to dinner with someone." Evie called from the kitchenette, as she put the groceries in there respective cupboards.

Silas glanced around the tiny reception area. It contained only the couch he was sitting on, a TV, and a coffee table scattered with cigarette cartons and various magazines, all advising women about certain indecent things in such an explicit manner that the albino had to mentally scold himself. There were also several photographs of a delicate looking blonde with the name Gemma Ashford emblazoned upon them, along with what he presumed was her phone number, and various measurements

Evie strode in a few minutes later, uncermonisly dumping the large cardboard book down on top of the coffee table. She handed Silas a double shot glass, and started pouring herself some whiskey.

"Pick one you want." She said, before downing the drink. Silas discovered that Evie had brought in box with many different types of alcohol. It was not what he had expected when she said get a drink. A part from the sacramental wine, he hadn't had any alcohol. He selected a bottle at random with an odd logo resembling a bat called Bacardi 151.

He nearly spat out the alcohol when it hit his tongue, and reluctantly swallowed the vile concoction. Evie paid no mind, as she had turned the TV and was watching what appeared to be a soccer match. It had been the first time Silas had seen, let alone watched a television in at east fifteen years.

The night continued with the two watching TV, talking and in Evie's case, drinking. The alcohol had given the albino a strange, but not totally unenjoyable feeling. Silas had decided to try a different beverage, but had drunk nowhere as much as Evie who had managed to drink close to half the bottle of Jim Beam. She didn't seem drunk to Silas. He was used to the violent drunks in the many French towns he lived in, loud men that stuck of urine and vomit who passed out in gutters. She was maybe a little more talkative than usual, but she eventually fell asleep on the couch.

He decided to move her to her room. Silas decided that the room containing various half finished paintings and messy bed sheets was Evie's, instead of the one that was impeccable in pink. His choice was validated when he noticed a pack of half finished Lucky Strikes on the floor. He deposited her on the bed, and she mumbled something under her breath before turning over onto her side.

Silas stumbled back into the living room, the alcohol impairing his abilities to walk. He sat on the sofa for a few minutes, deciding what to do. Obviously, he couldn't just stay here, but he really didn't want to go back out into London. His thoughts were interrupted when a familiar name drew him back to reality.

"Robert Langdon." The name sent a shock through his body as he remembered the events that had conspired months ago. Sure enough, the news program showed footage of Langdon at a book signing. The reporter was doing a story on his return to London to promote his book, The Sacred Feminine, as the tour had been interrupted in April due to his well-publicized police chase.

Silas was overcome with disgust at the very mention of his name. He was nothing but a sacrilegious nuisance.

But you're not any better. He said to him self suddenly. Stealing, lying, drinking…the fallen monk abruptly smashed a nearby bottle of liquor. Murder. He had become an animal. The sudden urge for the discipline immediately overcame him.

That night, in an alcohol induced haze, Silas made a slew of promises to himself. He would get revenge on Langdon, for blatantly disrespecting the church and humiliating himself. He would also go against Aringarosa's wishes and reveal the identity of the teacher, and would punish him. Finally, he would make his triumphant return to Opus Dei.

The ghost was back again.