Chapter Text
Winter settled in across the city much quicker than any of the previous years that Harrowhark Nonagesimus can remember. The first day of October also blindsided her, but that was the date displayed on her phone as her 6:00 AM alarm screamed at her to get out of bed.
Long before the sun was set to rise, Harrowhark slowly dragged an arm out of the safe and warm cocoon of her bedding to silence the alarm. With a groan and more effort than normal, she slowly lifted herself from her bed into a seated position and set her feet upon the ground. Pins and needles embedded themselves in the bottom of her feet. She slowly stretched each leg and rubbed her feet to get her blood flowing.
Her morning routine began as it always did with stretching and a mug full of hot black coffee. Her attention drifted to her windows. She noted the dark sky that was becoming increasingly harder to see through the thin blanket of snow that was slowly building up from the bottom of each of the windows. Her walk to work would be disastrous in this weather.
Shutting the apartment door behind her, Harrowhark put her keys in her coat pocket and began pulling on her gloves as she walked to the elevator. As a harbinger for the luck of the day ahead, she kept getting her fingers tangled up within the gloves, in the very same way that she spilled coffee on her pants right before leaving. Harrow muttered a curse to herself as she used her elbow to press the down button for the elevator; surely, this was a sign from God to simply stay home today.
She didn’t dare a glance at her watch. She was going to be late to work and she would just have to mitigate her anxiety about it on the walk there; there was simply nothing she could do about it now.
Much quicker than usual, the elevator arrived and the doors opened just as she finally fitted the gloves to her hands. If only she was capable of feeling joy today.
But it was when the doors to the elevator slid open that she realized the tone for her day was firmly cemented as particularly horrible.
Harrowhark Nonagesimus noted three observations instantly.
First, Harrow saw a cardboard box. The second thing she saw were the two hands holding the bottom corners of the box. A heavy stone settled in the pit of her stomach as she recognized those hands
Well… the third thing she saw—just as the elevator doors slid completely open to reveal the entirety of the person occupying the elevator—was absurdly bright red hair. The impossibility of events leading to this very moment made her want to turn around, walk back into her apartment, and forget this day ever happened at all. Miracle or curse, the inconvenience of both or either made the difference entirely semantic to Harrowhark.
“Harrow,” said the person who frequently haunted Harrow’s memory.
She could do nothing as she stared into familiar golden eyes. The past two decades of her life flashed before her: torment, grudges, hatred, grief, empathy, frustration, hunger, silence.
Harrowhark blinked and, sure enough, Gideon Nav was still standing before her, so not a creation from her brain at all.
The elevator doors began to slide shut. “Oh, uh,” mumbled Gideon as she took a step and put her back against one of the doors. The doors slid back open.
Harrowhark Nonagesimus was now late for work and being haunted by ghosts.
“What are you doing here?” As the words left Harrow’s mouth, she immediately regretted the sharpness of her tone. She sounded accusatory.
Gideon let out a singular laugh, hung her head down and shook it slowly. “I see not much has changed.”
But that wasn’t true at all, was it? Over the past eight years, so much had changed about Harrowhark and how she treated those around her, especially her friends and those she loved.
But that was the sad truth of it: the one thing that hadn’t changed in eight years was that Gideon Nav wasn’t her friend. At this point, they were nothing more than strangers, equally haunted by nearly eight years of silence.
But they had been something once. A precipice, a fall, and nothing but pain on the way down.
Ah, and there was the frustration rising again. Was she angry about the radio silence all these years?
To save her ego and prove how much had changed about Harrowhark, she quietly admitted, “I’m sorry, that tone was unfair to you.”
“What’s new? That sounded about as ‘Harrowhark Nonagesimus’ as possible.” Gideon let out a pronounced breath and met her eyes once more. “Get in the elevator so I don’t have to keep standing here.”
Harrow did as instructed, moving carefully around Gideon so as not to touch the box she was holding. From what she could see, the box was filled with mundane clutter. “You’re moving,” Harrowhark aptly observed, as perceptive as ever. Was she at a loss for words?
She could do this; she would be lying if she claimed not to have rehearsed a moment similar to this. If only it could have happened when she wasn’t already late for work.
“Yes, Captain Obvious,” Gideon said with a tone that sounded a bit more genuine and teasing than before. Only by a bit. A peace offering? She stepped out from the elevator. “And it seems like I’m on your floor. Neighbors all over again, just like when we were kids.”
The doors of the elevator began to slide shut.
Harrowhark knew she should explain her initial reaction. I’m running late; my morning has been rough; you shocked me; I never thought I’d see you again; I didn’t dare hope…
She looked down, took a breath, there was so much to apologize for. Instead, she looked back up to meet those enragingly golden eyes. “Nav,” she said softly.
Harrow watched as Gideon’s shoulders relaxed, demeanor instantly softened. “Nona?”
At the old nickname, her mouth moved faster than her brain, her response was automatic, muscle memory, “Griddle.”
Golden eyes widening, a spark of vulnerability held within her gaze. As the doors slid completely shut, Harrow saw a miniscule, lopsided smile grow on Gideon Nav’s face.
Exiting the lobby, Harrow took a sharp left turn to join the crowd of people also on their respective walks to work. She realized, as she got to work, she didn’t remember the walk. What she did remember, however, was wondering to herself if Gideon’s lips still feel the same.