Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
.・゜-: ✧☾ ☽✧ :-゜・.
The barn was heavy with tension. Shadows from the early morning sun slanted through the weathered slats, casting thin beams of light that pierced the gloom. Outside, the wind whispered through the trees, adding to the unease that someone could be lurking, watching, or planning an attack.
Rick stood like a statue in the center of it all, issuing sharp commands to the rest of the group. He had ordered the perimeter secured, sending Daryl and Glenn to scout the surrounding woods while Sasha and Michonne took positions by the barn doors. Every corner was watched. No risks.
Aaron had yet to wake, slumped unconscious from Rick's fist. Someone had tied his wrists and ankles with rope stripped from the barn's loft. Even now, limp and unmoving, the man sparked unease in every person around him.
In his backpack, he only had a few things like some apple sauce, more photos, and a flare gun which only raised everyone's skepticism about the man. A flare gun which purpose could be to alert others but how many more?
Levi hadn't moved from Stella's side. Maggie had informed them that it wasn't contagious, not like it would've mattered. He held her sweaty palm in his hand as his thumb brushed over her skin, a silent reassuring that he was right there beside her even if she could feel it or not. He stared down at her, his eyes searching her limp body with the quiet desperation that he would find some signs of her getting better. But the girl wasn't moving. Barley even with every small breath that she took.
When Aaron finally stirred, he groaned from the force of the punch. "That's a hell of a right cross there, Rick," He muttered, his lips twitching into a brief smile.
"Sit him up," The Grimes man said, his voice firm and demanding. Maggie assisted the man up, bracing Aaron against a beam.
Levi shifted subtly, moving to sit in front of Stella, partially shielding her from Aaron's view. The movement was instinctual, protective. Strategic. If Aaron was a threat—which Levi believed he was—then the fewer weaknesses he saw, the better. Stella didn't need to be taken and used as someone's leverage.
Aaron looked around the barn, but his gaze landed squarely on Rick, who stood unmoving with eyes burning down at him. "You're being cautious," Aaron said, his voice still strained from the aftershock of the punch. "I completely understand."
"How many of your people are out there?" Rick asked and a moment passed without Aaron answering. The older man flipped out the orange gun from his holster. "You had a flare gun. You have it to signal people. How many of them are there?" He bit out.
Aaron exhaled through his nose. "Does it matter?"
"Yes," Rick said instantly.
"I mean of course it matters how many people are actually out there but does it matter how many people I tell you are out there? Because I'm pretty sure no matter what number I say... 8, 32, 444, zero... No matter what I say you're not going to trust me."
