Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTRDACTJVRZV6R69TKNEHNQ

The rain tapped a restless, tinny rhythm on the roof of The Raven's Nest as Aurora wiped down tables during the Tuesday afternoon lull. Most of the regulars wouldn't arrive for another few hours, leaving the bar in a state of drowsy anticipation. Behind the counter, Silas polished glasses with meticulous care, his movements deliberate and unhurried despite his limp. Aurora paused to stretch her back. Four delivery runs for the Golden Empress had left her muscles aching. "Quiet today." Silas nodded without looking up. "Always is when it pours like this." The door swung open with a gust of damp air, bringing in a lone figure who hesitated at the threshold. Tall and broad-shouldered, the man shook raindrops from his expensive-looking overcoat. Aurora turned to offer a cursory welcome, then froze. The cloth slipped from her fingers. "Colin?" The man's head snapped up, and for a fleeting second, surprise flashed across his face before settling into something more composed. "Rory? Aurora Carter?" Aurora couldn't move. Colin Fletcher stood in the doorway of Silas' bar, five years older than when she'd last seen him. The gangly physics student with perpetually smudged glasses was gone. In his place stood someone Aurora hardly recognized – tailored suit under the expensive coat, hair styled with professional precision, no glasses at all. "Bloody hell," she finally managed. Silas looked between them, one eyebrow raised. He reached for his signet ring, turning it around his finger in that way he did when assessing potential trouble. Colin crossed the room with confident steps. "I never expected to find you here." His accent had changed – the Cardiff lilt softened into something more deliberately neutral. "I work here. Live upstairs, actually." "In Soho? Last I heard you were finishing law school." Aurora's fingers twitched toward the crescent scar on her wrist, a nervous habit she'd never quite broken. "Things change." Colin's eyes tracked the movement, recognition flickering across his features. "They certainly do." He glanced around the bar. "Mind if I sit?" Aurora nodded toward a booth in the corner, the farthest from the door. Silas caught her eye, a silent question in his gaze. She gave a slight shake of her head – no need for concern. Not yet, anyway. Colin settled into the booth, removing his coat to reveal a suit that Aurora suspected cost more than three months of her rent. She slid in across from him, acutely aware of her worn jeans and faded t-shirt. "What brings you to this part of London?" she asked, struggling to reconcile this polished stranger with the boy who'd once spent three days helping her build a fort in her parents' garden. "Business meeting nearby. Got canceled last minute." He studied her face. "You look good, Rory." "You look... different." A laugh escaped him, genuine enough to briefly reveal the Colin she remembered. "Is that your diplomatic way of saying I've sold out?" "Have you?" The bluntness of her question hung between them. Colin ordered a scotch when Silas approached, top shelf. Aurora asked for her usual beer. "I work for Halcyon Systems now," Colin said after Silas retreated. "Cyber security division." "The defense contractor? The one that makes—" "Surveillance systems, yes. Among other things." Aurora remembered late-night conversations in university halls, Colin's passionate declarations that he'd never work for "the military-industrial complex." How he'd wanted to develop renewable energy technology. "What happened to changing the world through sustainable technology?" Colin's fingers drummed against the polished wood. "Turns out changing the world requires capital, Rory. Halcyon pays exceptionally well." He paused as Silas delivered their drinks, waiting until they were alone again. "Not all of us had parents willing to bankroll our ideals." The unfairness of this stung. "My parents wanted me to be a barrister like Dad. I'm delivering Chinese food and tending bar." "By choice?" "Does it matter?" Colin took a sip of his scotch, his wedding ring catching the light. Another surprise. "I heard about Evan. After you left Cardiff." Aurora stiffened. "From who?" "Megan. We kept in touch." "Megan who swore she'd never speak to you again after what happened with Caitlin?" A muscle in Colin's jaw tightened. "People reconcile, Rory. Not everyone holds grudges like you do." "Is that what I'm doing? Holding a grudge?" Aurora leaned forward. "You slept with your best friend's girlfriend, then disappeared when the whole thing blew up. You didn't even come to David's funeral." Colin set his glass down carefully. "I wasn't welcome." "Because you were a coward." "Because I was twenty-two and made a mistake that cost me everything." His voice remained controlled, but Aurora saw the crack in his composure. "By the time I got the news about David's accident, the funeral had already happened." Aurora's beer tasted bitter. "You could have called. Any of us." "Would you have answered?" The question hung between them, uncomfortably accurate. She wouldn't have. Not then. The silence stretched. Outside, the rain intensified, hammering against the windows. "My wife's pregnant," Colin finally said. "A girl. Due in December." Aurora blinked at this unexpected offering. "Congratulations." "I've been thinking about the past a lot lately. About becoming a father." Colin swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "About what kind of example I want to set." "And what kind is that?" "The kind who owns his mistakes." He met her eyes directly. "I was wrong back then, Rory. About so many things. But losing your friendship was the worst consequence." Aurora studied him, this stranger wearing her old friend's face. The Colin she'd known couldn't afford bespoke suits or top-shelf scotch. That Colin had promised to use his brilliant mind to make the world better, not design surveillance systems for defense contractors. But that Colin had also been selfish, impulsive, desperate for validation. "What does your wife think about your work?" she asked. "Clara's a corporate attorney for Halcyon. It's how we met." "Of course she is." Colin's expression hardened. "That's unfair. You don't know her." "And you don't know me anymore." "Whose fault is that?" He leaned forward. "You disappeared, Rory. After what happened with Evan, you just vanished. I tried to find you." This caught her off guard. "You did?" "For months. Called your parents, who wouldn't tell me anything except that you were safe. Checked hospitals. Filed a missing persons report that went nowhere because you'd apparently contacted the police to say you were fine, just wanted privacy." Aurora remembered that call, made from a burner phone Eva had bought her. The police officer's skeptical expression when she'd explained she wasn't missing, just hiding. "I had my reasons." "I'm sure you did. But sitting across from you now, seeing what you've become—" "What I've become?" Aurora cut in sharply. "And what exactly is that, Colin?" "Someone hiding." His voice softened. "The Rory Carter I knew wanted to change the legal system from within. Fought for underdog causes. Wouldn't settle for just getting by." "The Colin Fletcher I knew wouldn't build technologies that spy on people." He absorbed this, nodded slowly. "We've both compromised, then." At the bar, Silas pretended not to watch them while methodically arranging bottles. His presence was reassuring – he'd intervene if needed. "Why are you really here, Colin?" "Honestly? Coincidence." He finished his scotch. "But seeing you... I've missed you, Rory. All our friends, really. The people who knew me before I became..." He gestured at himself. "A corporate sellout?" Aurora supplied, but there was less bite in her tone. "Something like that." Aurora's finger traced the condensation on her glass. "I miss them too, sometimes. Mostly I miss who I was then. Before Evan." "What did he do to you?" Colin asked quietly. She touched her wrist where the crescent scar curved like a smile. "Enough to make me run." Colin nodded, not pushing further. "We make choices to survive, don't we? Then wake up years later wondering how we became these people." The rain had slowed to a gentle patter. Colin checked his watch – platinum, probably – and sighed. "I should go. Clara will be waiting." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a business card, sliding it across the table. "My personal number's on the back. If you ever want to talk." Aurora took it, not committing to anything. "Does your wife know you're reaching out to old girlfriends?" "We were never—" "I know." Aurora's lips curved slightly. "Just checking what kind of man you've become." Colin stood, dropping more than enough cash on the table to cover both their drinks. "The kind still trying to figure it out, I suppose." As he shrugged on his expensive coat, Aurora saw glimpses of the boy she'd known – in the way he pushed his hair back, in his hesitation before leaving. "Colin," she called as he reached the door. "I'm glad you're going to be a father. You'll be good at it." He paused, hand on the door. "I hope so." Then he was gone, leaving Aurora with a business card, memories, and the uncomfortable weight of choices that had led them both to this moment – neither quite who they'd planned to be, carrying regrets like stones in their pockets.