Poker Face

Chapter 65 - P.O.W.

Aven was too hysterical to talk to and seemingly in too much pain to walk, so Daryl begrudgingly carried her outside. Her wrists were tied in front of her and she was laid across the backseat of a jeep. She kept crying until sharp pains were shooting through her head; she hit it hard and she'd just barely begun to regain her strength in the first place, still light-headed and uneasy on her feet from her initial injury. When she finally stopped crying, she was left moaning in pain, largely self-inflicted. It got even worse when the jeep was pulled off the road and the terrain became rough and bumpy. It was only a moment though before it stopped. She was pulled backwards out of the car and lowered to sit against a tree. She blinked rapidly, struggling to see straight and get her bearings.

"What did you do to her?" she heard a man asked angrily.

"I didn't do anything," Rick snapped. The Saviors would never talk to Negan like that, Aven thought. "They did. We found her like this."

"Hey," someone said, crouching in front of Aven and snapping in her face to her her attention. "Listen to me." Aven finally focused enough to make out Maggie. Still blinking hard, she feebly nodded to show she was paying attention. "You're gonna tell us everything we wanna know. You get one last chance. One. Got it?"

"Yes," Aven choked out, tears pouring down her face.

"How many men does Negan have left?"

"I- I- I don't know," she stuttered before again becoming incoherent in her sobs. She held the bleeding spot on her forehead where she'd hit it against the outpost floor and fell sideways in pain, unable to catch herself with her tied hands. Rick cursed under his breath and helped her sit up again. "Everything hurts," she whimpered, not dishonestly. Not only had she brought back and worsened her headache and dizziness, but her sharp stomach pains were still coming and going.

"We'll get you cleaned up and taken care of but if you don't cooperate, you die," Maggie asserted.

"Yes," Aven choked again. "I understand. Just please help me. Please don't make me go back there."

"Did he do this to you?"

"N-no, one of his men d-did," she lied. "Th-they don't trust me. When you attacked he blamed me and started hitting me and then threw me in that closet."

"Why not just kill you?"

"It's against the rules." Aven needed to convince them that she was important enough to keep alive but not so important that they had Negan almost literally by the balls. She couldn't out-muscle them and try to just run off, so she had to outsmart them and gain their trust. She knew Negan would come after her, and that's when she'd make her move.

Maggie tried to question Aven more in-depth but couldn't get her to calm down enough to be helpful. Really, Aven could have calmed down and talked rationally with them but chose not to; she was in an easy place to make them believe she was one of Negan's most unfortunate victims, but at the same time she really didn't want to badmouth him and make them think they were justified in their crusade on him.

After she finally stopped crying, Aven zoned out, staring off blankly through the trees. Maggie and a man Aven didn't recognize cleaned the cut on her head and taped a bandage over it before carefully cleaning her stitches to make sure they hadn't opened. They needed her alive and well to get the best leverage on Negan that they could. They sat around in the same spot in the woods for what felt to Aven like hours, Rick occasionally muttering to people over a radio. They had eyes on the outpost, watching for when Negan arrived, knowing he'd try to contact her on her walkie, which Daryl took from her. Aven was brought back into the moment when Negan's voice finally crackled over her radio.