Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTY5VXDDEDDNYQQKK5BHBK1

The air in The Raven’s Nest hung thick with the scent of stale beer and hushed secrets. Rory wiped down the sticky surface of the bar, the rag cool against her skin. The usual Friday night crowd hadn't quite coalesced yet; only a few solitary figures nursed drinks in the dim light, shadows clinging to the booths. Silas was in the back, no doubt poring over whatever maps or cryptic documents occupied his peculiar retirement. A shaft of light from the street, filtering through the grimy window, caught a dust mote dancing in Rory's peripheral vision. She swatted at it instinctively, her wrist aching with a familiar phantom throb. The crescent scar, usually hidden by her sleeve, felt suddenly exposed. The bell above the door jingled, its cheerful tone jarring against the bar's hushed atmosphere. Rory glanced up, her practiced smile faltering. A woman stood silhouetted against the brighter London night, a gust of cool air trailing in behind her. Rory’s breath hitched. It couldn’t be. Not here, not now. The woman stepped further into the light, and Rory’s world narrowed to the familiar, yet utterly transformed, face. “Eva?” The name was a whisper, barely audible. Eva’s eyes, once the lively green of a summer meadow, now held a weariness that seemed to hollow them out. Her once vibrant auburn hair, a shade Rory distinctly remembered teasing her relentlessly about, was now a muted brown, pulled back in a severe knot at the nape of her neck. The spark that had once ignited Eva’s every expression sat dormant, replaced by a careful composure that felt brittle. Eva’s lips, a shade darker than Rory remembered, curved into a faint, almost apologetic smile. "Aurora. It is you." Her voice, once a lilting melody, had acquired a huskier, more measured cadence. Rory set down the rag, her hands suddenly clammy. "I… I didn't expect to see you. Not here." She gestured vaguely around the dimly lit establishment, her gaze flicking towards the hidden entrance to Silas's back room. "Small world," Eva murmured, her eyes sweeping over Rory’s uniform, the worn fabric of her jeans. A fleeting look, too quick to decipher, crossed her face. "You're still… delivering things?" The question, deceptively simple, felt laced with something Rory couldn’t quite name. Pity? Disappointment? She straightened, her own practiced composure asserting itself, a shield forged in the years since their last meeting. "Keeps me busy. Pays the rent." She paused, then added, a touch of defiance in her tone, "And allows me to, you know, *live*." Eva moved further into the bar, her heels clicking softly on the worn floorboards. She approached the bar, her posture impossibly straight, as if fighting an invisible weight. "I've been away. For a long time." "London wasn't big enough for you, then?" Rory’s quip landed with a flatness that surprised even her. It was the kind of barb Eva would have once tossed back with a laugh, but now, her expression remained unchanged. A polite, distant mask. "Something like that." Eva’s gaze drifted to the collection of antique maps adorning the wall, her fingers tracing the outline of a faded continent. "This place… it hasn't changed much, has it?" "Silas likes his routines," Rory said, leaning against the counter, waiting. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the real reason Eva had materialized in this improbable corner of her life. "And you?" Eva finally met Rory’s eyes, and in their depths, Rory saw a flicker of the old spark, quickly extinguished. "Are you happy, Rory?" The question hung in the air, heavy and unwelcome. Rory’s smile tightened. "Happy is a… complicated word, Eva. I’m here. I’m alive." She avoided the direct answer, the years of self-preservation kicking in. "What about you? You look… different." Eva’s hand went to her throat, a nervous gesture Rory remembered well. "Life has a way of… reshaping us, wouldn't you agree?" She finally settled on a stool, perching on the edge as if ready to flee. "I found myself needing a quiet place. Somewhere to… recalibrate." "Calibrate?" Rory echoed, the word sounding alien on Eva’s tongue. “You always were good with words. What precisely are you recalibrating *from*?” A faint tremor ran through Eva’s shoulders. "From all the noise, Rory. From making decisions that… echo." She looked down at her hands, smooth and unblemished, a stark contrast to Rory’s own calloused fingers. "You always had a knack for staying grounded. For seeing things clearly." Rory scoffed, a harsh sound. "I see things clearly enough. I see that you walked out of my life without a word, and now you reappear like a ghost in some dusty old pub. What cleared vision do you expect me to have here, Eva?" Eva flinched, a subtle tightening around her eyes. "It wasn’t that simple. You know it wasn't." "No," Rory conceded, her voice softening almost imperceptibly. "It never was. But you could have at least made a phone call." The words spilled out, raw and unbidden, a dam of unspoken grief finally cracking. “You were supposed to be my escape, remember? My confidante. My… everything.” Eva’s gaze dropped again, her fingers now interlacing tightly. "Evan… he made things difficult. For both of us." "Difficult?" Rory's laugh was sharp and brittle. "He was a monster, Eva. And you just… vanished." The crescent scar on her wrist pulsed as if it remembered the sting of the broken glass all too well. "I was left picking up the pieces, alone." "And look at you now," Eva said, her voice laced with an unfamiliar note of… admiration? "You survived. You built something for yourself." She gestured to the bar, to Rory’s worn uniform. "This is your life now." "This *is* my life," Rory corrected, her voice firm. "Not a placeholder until something better comes along.” She met Eva's gaze directly, her bright blue eyes holding steady. "I learned to stand on my own two feet when… when the people I thought would hold me up, let me fall." A long silence stretched between them, filled only by the distant rumble of traffic outside and the clinking of glasses from a nearby table. Eva finally looked away, her eyes scanning the details of the bar, avoiding Rory’s accusing stare. “I heard you were working for Silas.” “He pays well,” Rory stated. “And he doesn’t ask too many questions. Which is more than I can say for most people.” “He’s… a strange man,” Eva commented, her tone neutral. “Whispers follow him, even miles away from here.” Rory shrugged, picking up her rag again, though there was nothing left to clean. “He’s a good man. He gave me a chance when no one else would.” She looked at Eva, the ghost of their shared youth flickering between them like a dying ember. “You know, I used to think about you all the time. Wondered where you were. If you were okay.” Eva finally pushed herself up from the stool, her movements fluid but with a hint of underlying tension. “And now?” “Now,” Rory began, her voice steady, carrying the weight of years of forced resilience, “I’m just trying to make sense of the present.” She met Eva’s gaze, a silent battle of wills waged in the dim light of The Raven’s Nest. “It’s good to see you, Eva. Truly. But I think maybe… maybe some chapters are best left closed.” Eva’s lips curved into a sad, knowing smile. "Perhaps." She turned, her gaze lingering on the green neon sign outside, a beacon in the encroaching darkness. "Take care, Rory." And then she was gone, the bell above the door its only farewell. Rory stood at the bar, the rag clutched in her hand, the phantom ache in her wrist a dull reminder of a past she couldn’t outrun, and a future she was still very much building. The silence in the bar felt deeper now, heavier, punctuated only by the slow drip of a leaky faucet in the back.