X marks the spot

The Inside Man

He had put the coordinates in, then walked. He knew it was going to be a long one, but he did it anyway. He knew there were cameras, that people would be looking for him -

Nah, they'd have a lower team on that, there was a lot going on, he knew that; even with Ward, he was aware. Things were changing, and it seemed now, so was he and his relationships with those people. The only people who liked him for just being himself; who accepted him.

Well, not this part of him. But, he could understand that.

He knew they'd move on a deal with that bigger stuff. He was thankful, in a way for that, that they were moving on and not worrying about him. Meant he could do this easier, he didn't have to quite think of the cost; the pain and hurt.

He didn't have to think about the way he had turned his back on the only people who gave him a home.

He kept walking, feet not stopping once, his phone nearly flat, but he was still moving. He had checked the turns, even written them on his hand with a pen just in case.

Whoever that woman was, she knew how to find that guy...she could know more. That, and she helped get him out. She made sure he got out and that he was safe.

Seemed she was worth talking to at least; Aaron knew or thing or two at making allies. But he wasn't going to make the same mistake as last time, this time, he was going to know what this person wanted out of it.

New Orleans taught him that, that and a few - lot - of other things.

Next left, he remembered. Phone now completely gone, his only companion being his thoughts and whoever his ability conjured out to speak to him.

Turning that left corner, he found himself near a cemetery, not one he recognised. Part of him liked that though, that he didn't know this one, meant that if it went sideways, he wouldn't feel too bad about the headstones being ruined.

Dead was dead. But death was what brought him here. Death was what he had tried to be before. Whoever this woman was, she had a sense of humour. Ok, maybe he liked that.

Still, here he stood in the dead of night. It was quiet - not too quiet quiet, just quiet. A sense of trepidation came over him. Why, he did not know. She helped him out. She got him out and got him here.

He took one step in, and no one rose from their graves; another foot, same thing.

He let out a breath, continuing his walk in. He looked around at the area, no one in sight. The trepidation didn't leave, if anything it grew.

Still, he kept going; he could handle himself anyway.

He continued on the path, body alert and ready; hand near the pistol he was sure had nothing left in it. Still, they didn't have to know that.

Finally, he saw a figure, a woman standing near a grave. She wasn' weeping, she wasn't doing anything; just starting at whoever's grave that was.

No one else was around, and he had been sent the coordinates by a female, so...he assumed...

He went to stand next to her. Having to blink a few times before he could fully get a read on the name hammered into the grave stone, signifier to whose body laid beneath it.

SARAH LITCHFIELD it read. Aaron cocked his head to the side...that name, it rang a faint bell. He was sort of shocked to be honest, that he could even think about that name having some significance. He was sure, with the amount he drank, that most names would be gone from his brain. Yet here he was.