The doors were closed on Alexandria when he returned, but he didn't terribly care. The gate was fairly easy to scale, and he slipped over the top and dropped into the street quietly. There were no alarms, no warnings, and the watch guard in the tower apparently saw nothing, as he said nothing to alert the rest of the town. If Daryl wasn't a friend, Alexandria would have been in trouble, because he could have broken in, killed people and escaped pretty quickly.

He needed to tell Rick about this before Alexandria got horribly wrecked.

He raced down the streets, pounding up the stairs of Aaron's abode. He nearly ran full force into the door, instead, slamming his fists on the frame. It was the kind of noise that could wake the dead, and he didn't care. He needed answers, and he couldn't bother to wait around until people woke up to ask questions. He could hear someone stumbling down the stairs, nearly falling, and after a second with the lock Aaron threw open the door.

He paused a second, staring. Daryl was soaking wet, dripping onto his porch, tired, and obviously livid. "Daryl?" It was all he could think to say, since it took him a second to even start forming questions in his head to ask. He didn't get a chance to ask any of them, as Daryl pushed his way inside, not caring that he was dripping wet mud in the foyer. He let Aaron close the door, which was the polite thing to do - and it blocked out the enraged howl as the storm began to pick up outside. But as soon as the latch clicked, Daryl turned on him, getting up in his face, the cork on his emotional bottle having finally popped itself.

"Why the fuck doesn't he live here?!" Daryl asked, loudly, face hot and wet and red. "Every time I bring it up he gets all skittish like a beat dog, 'n he won't tell me shit, but he ain't the kind t'start nothing. You said, you told me, you thought I could tell who was good people. You told me you thought I could tell. 'N I ain't fuckin' doubting that, but when I find this fucking kid out in the middle of fuckin' nowhere, 'n he's so scared of this place he stabs me 'cause he thinks I was sent to find him, I gotta ask - if you're so god damn good at knowin' who's good people, then what the fuck did you do t'him?"

Aaron was quiet for a long time. It didn't matter Daryl had him almost backed against the door, nose to nose, his pajamas soaked through the front from where Daryl had gotten close enough to literally touch him. He was still, and then he sighed. "Come, sit down." He gestured to the kitchen, and the wooden chairs at the bar. Daryl stepped back, letting Aaron move into the kitchen, and eventually, Daryl followed. He slumped into the chair, putting his arms on the bar. He could tell he was going to get something out of Aaron, even if it was very little. "Tea?" Aaron offered, holding up a mug he was using for himself. Daryl's halfhearted grunt and shake of the head no was enough of an answer.

Eventually, Aaron finished fixing himself tea, and sat down beside Daryl. It had been quiet the entire time, steeped in a pregnant silence, the only sounds the boiling of water and the steady drip of Daryl's boots onto the tile floor of the kitchen. "So." Aaron nodded, sipped his tea - from the face he made it was obviously too hot, and he was somewhere between pain from burning his tongue and vague distress that he couldn't use it to fill awkward silences for a while yet - and set it down. "You met Warren." He nodded again, pushing the handle of his cup around.

"Yeah." Daryl wanted to fill the silence, fill it with anything, just to keep Aaron talking. "What happened?" And he wasn't livid anymore, just curious and worried, and this seemed to put Aaron at a little more ease.

"He, uh, we found him not too long after we got the walls finished. He was alone, and scared, of course, but he knew how to farm and I knew that would be important later in the life of the community. Farming is a necessity for sustainable living. So I brought him back, and he went through the, uh, the videotaped interview, and well... that's when it went south." Aaron stared at his tea for a long moment, the steam rising slowly between his hands. "He, uh. You're supposed to tell Deanna everything, during those, and it was... It was a lot more unforgiving when we started it. Any secrets, any at all, you had to tell her. She'd ask about your past and make you recount it in full detail for the camera... now she's a little more lax with how it works. It's more of an interview and less of a... of a interrogation." Aaron shook his head and buried himself in his tea, like he was trying to drink to forget.

"So what, he got some secret? Everybody got secrets." Daryl grumbled. "Not worth being honest anymore, not when everyone's fightin' everyone else."

"There are some secrets that are... worse than others." Aaron eventually replied. "He, uh. He told the camera some things, and he tried to tell them in confidence, and Deanna even hid his tape, but the rest of the residents wanted to see it, especially after she hid it away. And when they did..." Aaron trailed off, shook his head, and stood up, heading to the sink.

"What?" Daryl was impatient, the answer was right there, on the tip of Aaron's tongue.

"It's not my place to tell you." Aaron busied himself washing his mug. "I, at least, wish to keep Warren's secret's confidential. If he wanted, he would tell you. But it's not my place to dredge up the past." Aaron paused, hands braced on the sink. "I've just... I want to forget it happened; I want to put the past in the past, because he's already gone, and there's nothing I can do about it." He shook his head again. "I'm sorry."

Daryl stood up, nearly knocking the chair over in his suddenness, but even the show of sudden strength didn't seem like it would budge Aaron. He was steadfast, and resolute, and he eyed Daryl with an inner, unbending strength. "I'm going back to bed. I suggest you do the same." Aaron nodded, and headed for the stairs, leaving Daryl to let himself out. He paused there, still dripping in the kitchen, before heading out the door.

It was still raining, but he didn't care. He meandered, less of a rush than the first time, the water soaking him through. He wasn't tired, and he wasn't going to sleep. It was hard, honestly. He'd been so close, but he couldn't fault Aaron. If it had to do with something Warren wanted secret, it was almost noble for Aaron to keep it so close. It was still frustrating as fuck, though. It was tantalizing, now, because he'd had a taste of it.

He pulled out a crumpled, almost empty pack of cigarettes, and struggled to keep them dry as he retreated onto the porch where they were staying. He sat down on the raining, lit the cigarette, and leaned on the column, thinking.

He had a lot to think about. Should he bother Warren again? Did Warren even want to see him? He wasn't sure, honestly. Every time he'd met Warren, he'd left with Warren upset or frightened. But they had played cards, and while Warren wasn't bad, it was obvious they weren't playing his game, and it said a lot that he was a good sport about it. But that wasn't enough for Daryl to really decide whether or not Warren enjoyed his company. And even if Warren did, even if Daryl did go back, would he want to explain? Would he ever tell Daryl what happened? And what would Daryl do if he didn't?

Daryl sighed out smoke, fishing out another pack of cigarettes, as he had finished the first. He remembered watching Warren tell stories. Watching the way his face lit up when he spoke about his family, the way his strong features seemed soft in the rain light. He remembered how happy Warren looked. And he thought, and he remembered Warren with the same look losing at cards. It wasn't even that he was winning, Daryl realized. It was that he enjoyed playing. And it was hard to believe Warren enjoyed playing a game he was bad at, so that left literally one option - he was happy to be playing a game with Daryl. It wasn't a certainty, but it wasn't wrong, either.

So Daryl had a choice - he could pull back and give Warren his space, understanding he may never see the kid again at that rate; or, he could push forward, harder, spend time with Warren and hope he could get something out of it. It was a risk - pushing too hard could mean losing Warren as a companion forever, and Daryl didn't want that. He didn't want to hedge his bets and play a safe hand, he decided - he wanted to double down.

~o~o~

Rick noticed him on the porch a few hours later. Daryl had smoked through both his almost empty pack and half the second one while he thought. It was almost daylight, the red sky just starting to lighten above the treeline.

"Didn't sleep?" Rick asked, perching on the railing next to Daryl. The rain had stopped, but Daryl's clothes were still soaked through. It was sort of obvious, honestly. Daryl didn't care, putting out his last cigarette on the railing. "How long have you been out here?"

"That kid that stabbed me lived here once." Daryl said, suddenly, and he didn't need to look to see Rick tense up. He was on guard, this mystery stabber now a turned away recruit a scary thought, as no one was more likely to try and take a place than someone turned away from it. "S'okay though. He don't seem like a threat." Daryl turned to face Rick, nodding. "He ain't gonna just up and take it."

"You know why he doesn't live here anymore?" Rick asked, softly, still wary. Daryl shrugged.

"Talked to Aaron for a bit, don't got too much to go with. I'm gonna go try 'n find out from the kid. Apparently somethin' went sour though I don't think it was the kid's fault." Daryl hopped off the railing, leaning on the column.

"Why?" Rick stood as well, easy stance mirroring Daryl's ease. "What are you trying to get out of this, Daryl? He's just a kid." And to this, Daryl shrugged. He honestly didn't know where his endgame was headed, and he honestly didn't want to think too hard on it. Right now, he had a goal, and that's all he needed. He was silent, and Rick seemed to understand. "But you trust him?"

"Yeah." Daryl nodded. "He ain't dangerous, and he didn't do nothing as far as I can tell. I wanna find out what happened, so I can bring him back here. He don't deserve to live out there alone, not when we're right here." Rick watched him, and nodded, and didn't ask. He didn't need to. He trusted Daryl, and somewhere in his head, he knew. He knew when he looked at Daryl that this wasn't just some random kid that Daryl just wanted to save. He knew there was something else there, and he knew better than to ask questions.

"Don't take too many risks." Rick replied, putting a hand on Daryl's shoulder tightly. Daryl quirked a smile, because of course he was going to take as many risks as possible, because it was worth it, and Rick knew this just as much as Daryl did. But he had to say it all the same. "And don't keep smoking those all at once. They'll kill you, y'know." Rick chuckled, and Daryl couldn't help but join him, putting the pack away in his pocket.

He could smoke later. Now, he needed a nap and dry clothes. He had risks to take.