Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTRM8FRWRZF0RM5XS7NNSRA

In the lurid green light cast by the neon sign, a woman with straight shoulder-length black hair and bright blue eyes tucked a strand behind her ear. She glanced at her reflection in the rain-streaked window of The Raven's Nest, the golden letters of the bar's name glowing faintly above her as she pulled open the heavy wooden door with 'Raven' painted in curling script. The warm interior of the bar enveloped Rory like a familiar embrace. She shook off the evening's chill that clung to her like a damp sweater and ran a hand over her wet head. The rainwater ran off her fingertips like errant emotions she'd spilled in a moment of weakness. Her eyes scanned the roomful of patrons nursing pints of amber ale and*>:: The warm interior of the bar enveloped Rory like a familiar embrace. She shook off the evening's chill that clung to her like a damp sweater and ran a hand over her wet head. The rainwater ran off her fingertips like errant emotions she'd spilled in a moment of weakness. Her eyes scanned the roomful of patrons nursing pints of amber ale and highballs condensing with tears of condensation, searching for an empty seat at the bar. The door opened behind her, sending a fresh gust of cold air swirling around her legs. Rory turned to see a man with hazel eyes and grey-streaked auburn hair step inside, brushing the rain from the shoulders of his black coat. He glanced at her with an apologetic smile and moved past, his left leg dragging slightly behind the right with each step. "Evening, Si," the woman said, giving the bartender a nod. "Cranberry and vodka, please." "Coming right up, Rory," the bartender replied, reaching for the vodka. "Bit of a night out there, innit?" "You're telling me," she said with a chuckle, watching the vodka flow into the glass like a crimson sunset staining the horizon. She fished a few bills from her wallet and handed them over as Si slid the finished drink toward her. "Cheers." Cradling the cool glass between her palms like a captured firefly, Rory turned and surveyed the room once more. That's when she saw him. The limp gave him away, even if he had changed physically over the years. His neatly trimmed beard matched his greying hair now, and though his eyes retained that sharp glint, they also bore the lines etched by time. Without the porthole of the internet, they might never have recognized one another. They hadn't seen each other in probably a decade. Yet, here he was nursing a whiskey on the rocks. She felt something stir in her, an amalgamation of memories rose up like an undead creature, clawing its way out of her subconscious. She painted a smile on her face and walked over. "Silas Blackwood," she said, accentuating the sharp syllables, which cut through the bar's ambient noise. He looked up, eyes widening as his gaze met hers. "Well, I'll be damned," he said, the corners of his mouth lifting to reveal teeth that seemed yellower than she remembered. "Aurora Carter." "In the flesh," said Aurora as she pulled out a chair and slid into it. She took a sip from her drink, the sweet cranberry tang weighted with the vodka's bite as it slid down her throat. "It's been a long time, Aurora," Silas said, holding up a hand to flag down the bartender. "Another whiskey and a cranberry-vodka for the lady." Rory raised an eyebrow. "Trying to get me drunk, Si?" "Wouldn't dream of it," he said, popping an ice cube into his mouth. It clinked against his teeth as he swirled it around, the sound bringing back memories of clandestine meetings in corners like the hidden room she knew lay behind the bookshelf, diners in countries she couldn't pronounce and stakeouts on cold London nights. "So, what brings you back here?" "Work," she said, tucking a lock of damp hair behind her ear. "You know how it goes." "Still hustling for MI6?" he asked, leaning back in his chair as the bartender deposited their drinks in front of them. "Not exactly," she said, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she raised the glass to her lips. "I'm freelance now." Silas arched a brow. "Got tired of playing by the rules, did you?" "Something like that," she said, taking another sip. The ice had begun to melt, diluting the vodka's bite. "What about you? Last I heard, you were running some underground network." "A man's gotta keep himself occupied," he said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "The Nest keeps me busy." "I'll bet," Rory said, glancing around the bar. "It's good to see you, Si." "You too, Aurora," he said, raising his glass to her in a toast. "To old friends." "Old friends," she echoed, clinking her glass against his. As they drank and reminisced, the years seemed to melt away like the ice cubes in their glasses, the harsh edges of time smoothed over by the warm glow of shared memories. But even as laughter and banter flowed between them, they both knew that some things could never be the same. The path they'd chosen had led them to where they now stood, and despite the warmth of rekindled camaraderie, the chill of unspoken regret still lingered in the air like the ghost of a forgotten dream. "Silas," Rory said, leaning forward, her bright blue eyes serious. "What happened in Prague all those years ago? That botched operation… it always bothered me that you took the fall for it. Why did you do it?" Silas took a sip from his drink before answering, savoring the burn of whiskey as it slid down his throat. "You were young and idealistic. I didn't want that incident to tarnish your career before it even started. So, I let them believe I was the one who fucked up." "And the injury?" she asked, glancing down at his leg. "A small price to pay," he said, shrugging. Regret flashed across her face. "I should have been there to back you up." He gave her a rueful smile. "It's in the past." Silas finished his drink and held up the empty glass, signaling the end of the conversation. "It was good seeing you, Rory. Don't be a stranger." With that, he stood, dropped a few bills on the table, and left without looking back, the limp more pronounced with each step. Rory watched him go before turning back to her drink, her thoughts a tumultuous blend of nostalgia and a bittersweet sense of finality as the door swung shut on this chapter of her past. As the last of the ice cubes disappeared in the ruby liquid, so too did the remaining fragments of that long-lost time dissolve into the ever-shifting tapestry of memories. As she finished her drink and stood to leave, Rory's eyes were drawn to the silver signet ring glinting on her right hand, a memento from Silas she'd carried since that Prague mission. She ran her thumb over the smooth surface, the metal cool against her skin. With a sigh, she dropped a few bills on the table and made her way out into the rain-slicked streets, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy on her heart. The green neon glow of The Raven's Nest faded behind her until it was nothing more than a faint echo, another memory to be tucked away in the recesses of her mind.