"You can take a seat," the woman said, gesturing towards the big chair across from her. Rosie did so. "Do you mind if I record our chat, Rosie?"
"Why?" Rosie asked, eyeing the camera warily.
"We like to keep a record of these interviews, so we can look back on them. Do you mind?"
"I don't care," Rosie mumbled, shrugging a little in the big chair.
"Great," the woman said. "So, Rosie... what?"
"Huh?" Rosie asked, her eyebrows furrowing.
"Your full name," the woman elaborated. "Originally, I was under the impression that your last name was Dixon, but Daryl told me otherwise. I was hoping you'd be a bit more cooperative than he was, though. Are you willing to tell me your last name?"
"Um, not Dixon," Rosie said. She started picking at a loose string on the chair she was sitting in. "Rosie Banks," she said.
"What happened to your father, then? If it isn't too sore of a subject."
"He got eaten," Rosie said, seemingly emotionlessly.
"Were you on your own for awhile after that, or were you already with the group?"
"Was already with the group," Rosie answered.
"And when did you become close with Daryl?" the woman asked. Rosie just shrugged. "What's your relationship like with him?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?" the woman repeated. Rosie just shrugged. "Is he sort of like a father figure to you, do you think?" was the next question. Rosie just shrugged again, though. "Seeing as you don't have any parents with you, would you prefer to stay with your group or for me to find a different-"
"I wanna stay with them," Rosie said quickly, and began bouncing her leg up and down. "How much longer 'til I can go?" she asked.
"I just have a few more questions," the woman said. "How old are you?"
"Eleven, I think," Rosie replied.
"It must've been hard, losing your father at such a young age. I'm sorry. What about your mother?"
"Momma left when I was a baby."
"So you were never close with her?" the woman asked. Rosie shook her head. "What grade were you last in?"
"Am I gonna have to go to school?" Rosie asked, her face scrunching up to show her distaste.
The woman laughed a little. "It's not the same as how your old school used to be. It's in a garage, and the younger kids only go during the first half of the day. It's not that bad, I assure you. Now, what grade was it?"
"Fourth, but only for, like, two weeks," Rosie said. She chewed on the inside of her lip for a moment. "Am I done yet?"
"Sure."
"God fuckin' damnit," Negan muttered, dropping the video camera down on the table. He had taken it back from Alexandria after his first trip there, but he hadn't thought to look through and check if there was an interview with Rosie until now. Guilt was overwhelming him, which wasn't something he'd experienced since before the end of the world.
The cause of this guilt was a simple note, left on the floor of Rosie's cell. He hadn't found it before because it was shoved underneath the blanket that Rosie had been sleeping on. Laura had been the one to find it and give it to him, and Negan neglected reading it until after the attack on Alexandria, specifically for this reason: the overwhelming guilt.
On the notebook paper, scribbled out in purple crayon, was a letter from Rosie.
You asked about Daryl. He'd choose me over power. You didn't. Now I'm just scared. Sorry.
- Rosie
God, she was sorry? For what? He'd done so much wrong. He'd been awful. He should've been the one apologizing, but he knew it wouldn't matter. No one would forgive him. Not after what he had done. He could apologize a thousand times and it wouldn't be worth a thing.
Negan wanted to crumple that piece of notebook paper up and throw it in the fireplace, burning it away and hopeful out of his memory. But he didn't. He shoved it in a drawer and got up out of his seat, leaving the room. Gregory was there, and they were supposed to be having a meeting. He had things to do. More important things. Sure. More important. He put his persona back on and walked to the meeting room.
•
Sasha was dead and Negan wasn't. Michonne was hurt, Rosita was hurt, Sasha was dead, and Negan still had power. The attack on the Saviors that Alexandria was planning turned out to be a trap. The Scavengers turned on Alexandria and had secretly been working together with the Saviors. Negan was going to kill Carl until the Kingdom showed up and helped them. The Saviors didn't succeed in taking Alexandria and killing Rick, but they still got away with their lives. Ian wouldn't talk to Rosie anymore, and Rosie felt like shit. Like it was all her fault.
The Saviors didn't have complete power, but they were willing to fight for it. The battle at Alexandria was just the beginning of another war. And Negan- Negan, who used to be Coach Smith- was at the center of it.
Rick, Daryl, and Maggie were trying to figure out a way to get Negan to stop going after Rosie. They thought about trying to fake her death, like they did with Maggie. Say that she escaped from the Sanctuary and got bit; say they found her in the woods, dead. But that wouldn't work anymore because the Scavengers had seen Rosie with Rick and Michonne. They knew that she made the trip back home, and therefore, Negan knew she made the trip back home. And now Negan knew that all of the communities were working together, so there was nowhere for her to hide.
Because of this, Rosie wasn't allowed to be anywhere by herself anymore. Even if she wanted to just take a simple walk around Alexandria on her own, she wasn't allowed to. An adult had to be with her, because if she was on her own, it was just too easy for someone to take her. And, God, Rosie hated it. She felt useless and she felt weak.
Part of Rosie wished she would've just stayed in the cell. If she stayed- if she would've cooperated- maybe none of this would've happened. Maybe Negan would just leave Alexandria alone if she cooperated. Of course, that wasn't the case; Negan would be doing what he was doing whether or not he had Rosie. But Rosie thought that maybe she could talk to him, or convince him.
Rick didn't want convincing. He wanted Negan dead. And that's what he was planning. Negan's death. The communities were working together now. Alexandria, the Kingdom, and the Hilltop. They were all working together to end Negan and the Saviors. The Saviors and the workers- they all had a choice. But not Negan. Rick wasn't going to give Negan that choice.
Dwight was officially deemed trustworthy. Rosie couldn't believe that. Especially because Daryl was the one to make that decision. She didn't care what Daryl thought. Dwight hurt him and tortured him. It was bullshit, in Rosie's opinion. But everyone else was trusting Dwight, and she didn't have a say in it. He gave them a list of places for them to go through and clear out, and that list seemed to be trustworthy.
The only good thing that came out of all these new arrangements was that Rosie was allowed back in Alexandria; at home. But it didn't feel much like home with almost everyone being gone. Rosie had to stand off to the side, looking down at her shoes as Rick said goodbye to Judith, Michonne, and Carl. A kiss on the head for Judith, a kiss on the lips for Michonne, and a great big hug for Carl.
"Rosie," Rick said. Rosie begrudgingly looked up from her new, blue shoes. Rick knelt down in front of her to meet her eye level. "I know this is hard for you. I know. But I want you to know I'm proud of you and I appreciate you for doing this," he said, his eyebrows raised to convey the honesty of what he was saying. He did that a lot, Rosie had noticed.
"Proud a' me for sittin' at home while you all go risk your lives for somethin' that maybe I could've stopped if I just-"
"Stop. I'm proud of you for doing this even though it's difficult for you. I know how you feel about it, but you're doing what I need you to do, anyway. That's not easy, I know. So thank you," Rick said, putting his hand on her shoulder and squeezing. Rosie looked down again, but nodded. Rick stood back up and got in the car he was driving in. By Carl's side, Rosie watched the parade of cars drive away from Alexandria.
"I know you wanted to go with him," Carl said to Michonne once the cars were gone. Michonne didn't say anything, but Rosie knew that Carl was right. Rosita was having the same problem. They all wanted to help, but Rick wouldn't allow them to for various reasons. "I did, too," Carl said.
"Everything hurts," Michonne complained. She was supposed to be a sniper, hiding out in a tall building in Alexandria, when the Saviors attacked and the Scavengers turned on them. She had gotten into a pretty gnarly fight with one of the Scavengers and it left her in a pretty bad condition. "But I'll help you defend this place," Michonne said.
"Help me?" Carl asked, confused.
"Oh, yeah. This is your show," Michonne said, giving Carl a smile. He scoffed, looking away. Michonne bumped his shoulder. "Ok. You'll see," she said.
Rosie wasn't a hundred percent sure, but she thought that Michonne meant that the reason Rick was doing this all- the reason Rick had been doing everything from the start- was for Carl. First just Carl, then Carl and Judith. Rosie and Ian were definitely on his list of motivations, but Carl and Judith would come first, of course, because they were his babies. His kids. Rosie was never Daryl's baby, but she wouldn't say that she was ever David's baby, either. If she was anyone's baby, back when she was as small as Judith was back at the prison, she'd say that she was probably Fraser's baby. He was the one who took care of her, after all. David was a piece of shit, and even still, Rosie sometimes had to remind herself of that.
It was very simple for her back then- with David, that is. The only rule was don't piss Dad off. She could come and go as she pleased, because he didn't pay much attention to or care much about where she was, as long as she wasn't bothering him. Now, though, she had to worry about keeping herself safe, because now people cared about her. They didn't want to see her hurt or scared or sad, and that was a good thing. It was just harder for Rosie to do, because she just didn't have the same self-awareness that most other people had. When she was little, she made almost all of her decisions by asking herself the question Is Daddy going to get mad at me for this? But now the question she needed to ask herself was Am I going to be ok after this? It was a whole new playing field, and Rosie was still getting used to it.
Your job is keepin' yourself alive, is what Daryl would always say when Rosie asked if she could have a job so she could help. That was a hard job for someone who had been raised to put herself last. But she would do it. One thing that helped her was thinking about something Carl had once told her. Keeping yourself alive is keeping us alive, because it'd hurt to live without you. She felt the same way about several people. Daryl, Maggie, Carl, Rick, Judith, Ian- it'd hurt to live without them. Just like it hurt to live without Glenn, Abraham, Sasha, and everyone else who they'd lost.
But, then again, everything went back around to Negan. Even what Carl said- keeping yourself alive is keeping us alive, because it'd hurt to live without you- made Rosie think about Negan. Was that why he was so adamant about taking her? To keep her alive? Because it hurts to live without her? Rosie reminded herself to stop thinking about him, because the longer she was away from him, the more she forgot about how awful he was. She kept finding herself trying to come up with reasons. She told herself they were reasons as to why Negan was doing what he was doing, but they were really reasons to forgive him. No, Rosie would herself in her head, you can't forgive him. Not ever.
Michonne walked off, probably heading off to go talk to Rosita, who also had to stay back due to injuries. Rosie was about to follow, but then Carl stopped her. "Rosie," he said, making her stop in her tracks. She turned back to him, waiting for him to say more. "Can you keep a secret?"
This sparked Rosie's interest. Her eyebrows raised, and she nodded. "Yes. I can. I swear," she said, now desperate to know what this secret was. She barely ever got to know secrets. This was a little bit exciting.
"I'm going out to leave food for someone. You wanna come with?" Carl asked, raising his eyebrows, too.
"Yeah. I can come with," Rosie said, nodding adamantly. She didn't get to go out much anymore, and with Rick, Daryl, and Maggie all being gone, she had much more freedom than she usually did. And, for a bonus, going somewhere with Carl wasn't even against the rules, because she technically wasn't alone.
"Cool. You can help me back a bag with food and stuff," Carl said, smiling a little. He had a feeling that asking Rosie to help would lift her spirits. He understood how she hated not being able to help. He was the exact same way, especially when they first got to the prison. So, the two of them went to what used to be Olivia's house, but was now just the food pantry and the food pantry alone. "I was siphoning gas for my dad the other day, and someone was there asking for food. My dad showed up and scared them away before I could try and help them. He said he just hoped that the guy would survive. Hoping isn't enough. I think we can help people, because we're strong enough to. But my dad..." Carl paused and sighed as they walked. Rosie looked up at him, and he looked defeated or disappointed. "My dad doesn't want to risk it. That's why we can't tell him."
"Ok. I won't tell. I swear," Rosie promised just as they reached the food pantry. They went inside and Carl grabbed the orange backpack. They'd had that backpack since the prison. They'd lost almost everything, except for that bag. It was strange that it'd made it this far. "So, just food and water?"
"Yeah. I think canned stuff would be good," Carl said. They picked out a few cans and a bottle of water and packed them into the big, orange backpack. Then, the two of them went out and took one of the cars. Rosie wasn't so sure how much experience Carl had driving, but she went along with him, anyway.
They were driving together quietly for only a few minutes until Rosie decided to speak up. "Hey, Carl?" she said with a questioning tone to her voice.
"Yeah?" Carl responded, raising his eyebrows a little bit.
"Do you think..." Rosie trailed off, sighing. She wasn't sure if she was brave enough to ask this question, but she decided that she had to ask it, or else she just keep wondering. "Do you think Rick's gotta kill Negan?"
Upon hearing this question, Carl sighed. Rosie worried that she had annoyed him until she heard his answer. "No. I think killing isn't the only option. But my dad's gonna do what he thinks is best, and he wants to kill him," Carl explained.
Rosie stared out the window, feeling unsure of everything. "Oh," she murmured. That wasn't the answer she was expecting. She was expecting an answer that would reinforce her hatred for Negan. "So, you think we should forgive him?" she asked.
"Well, I don't know. He was a good person. You said so. Maybe he can go back to that," Carl said. Rosie felt so conflicted. It was all so confusing, and it was awful that she- an eleven-year-old kid- had to be worrying about these types of things. "What was he like? Before, I mean," Carl asked.
"He was... he was nice," Rosie mumbled, unsure of what to tell Carl. Thinking about who Coach Smith was sort of hurt her. On the inside, at least.
"How'd you meet him?" Carl asked, making the question more specific so maybe he'd get a more specific answer.
"Um..." Rosie began, sighing. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "He was my brother's gym teacher and my baseball coach. I started playin' baseball when I was four, I think. Dad... my- my old dad... he signed me up for it 'cause he wanted me and Fraser outta the house, and they also had a snack every day, so he didn't have to buy dinner. I ended up likin' it a lot, though. But the next year my daddy didn't wanna pay for it no more, and Fraser told Coach Smith. Coach Smith felt bad, 'cause I liked baseball and everythin', and I was pretty good at it, I think. So Coach Smith- or Negan, I guess- paid for it, so I could keep playin'. Then, after Fraser died, he was just there all the time. Always helped me when I needed help, 'cause he was- he really was good."
"He sounds like he was. I don't think we have to kill him. I don't know what my dad will do, but I'll try to talk to him about it. I don't know," Carl said. He pulled off to the side of the road as they approached a gas station. He shut the car off and the two of them got out, taking the orange backpack with them. There were lots of abandoned cars, and when Carl crouched down next to one of them, Rosie crouched down, too. He unzipped the backpack and pulled out a piece of paper and a marker, writing out I'M SORRY before setting the paper on the ground. Rosie pulled out the cans and water bottle from the backpack and set them on top of Carl's note.
"Now what?" Rosie asked, looking at Carl. He stood back up, so Rosie did, too.
"We just leave it. We'll come back soon to see if he took it," Carl said, slinging the backpack over his shoulder.
"Ok," Rosie said, following him back to the car. She was glad to help someone.