Daryl passed Judith over to Rosita and watched quietly as Rosie joined Rick and Michonne at the end of the sewer, where Carl was sitting. Rosie had been keeping it together. From Fraser's hoodie tearing, to Negan showing up, to the bombs, to this sewer, Rosie had stayed calm. She was bottling it all in. Carl would be the last thing she could take, and Daryl knew it.
Rosie pulled her backpack off of her shoulders, focusing more on taking out the letters Carl asked for than looking at Carl himself. When she finally did look up at him, her eyebrows furrowed. He was leaning against the wall, his skin was pale, his eyes were rimmed with red, and his body was coated with a layer of sweat. Rick was crouched down in front of him, and Rosie stood a few feet away with Michonne.
Slowly, Carl lifted the end of his shirt, revealing his abdomen. On the left side of his stomach, a white bandage was taped to his skin. He peeled back the bandage, revealing a nasty, bloody bite mark. Michonne shuttered and dropped to her knees next to Rick. Rosie didn't say or do anything, just staring at the bite mark until Carl covered it back up. After that, she just stared at the shirt covering the wound.
It took a second for Rosie to realize she had stopped breathing. She sucked in a deep, heavy breath, processing. Carl's eyes were red and droopy, like Fraser's had been when all the cops and medics were there. But Carl- Carl was still breathing. He was still alive, but he was dying, and Rosie couldn't do anything to stop it. Maybe Fraser had been dying for a few days, too, but Rosie couldn't see it. Maybe he had been falling ill, like Carl was. But when Fraser was dying, Rosie couldn't see it, because his skin wasn't pale and his eyes weren't rimmed with red and his body wasn't coated in a layer of sweat. Because Fraser was dying on the inside before he died on the outside, and Rosie couldn't see it. Rosie couldn't see that Fraser was dying, and she couldn't save him, and now Rosie could see that Carl was dying, and she still couldn't save him.
Her hand still held the stack of letters from beside Carl's bed. They were goodbye letters. They were goodbye letters because this was the last time Rosie was ever going to see Carl because he was going to be dead. Rosie let the letters drop to the floor. She turned to look at Siddiq, who was sitting on the ground by the opposite wall. Rosie knew when Carl got bit. She didn't recognize it then- that defeated look on his face when he stood back up, off of the ground. That defeated look was the look people had when they became someone who was dying. Jim had it. Bob had it. And now Carl had it.
Carl got bit, and Carl was dying because Siddiq wanted to honor his mom. Because he was stupid enough to believe that people were more than their brains, because he was stupid enough to believe that he was freeing walkers' souls, because he was stupid enough to go after a group of walkers rather than avoiding them. Carl was dying because of him.
"This is your fault," Rosie said to Siddiq, her voice all shaky. As soon as she let herself speak, the lump in her throat turned into tears. She made herself look angry, because being angry felt better than grieving. "You killed him."
"It's not his fault, Rosie," Carl's weak, tired voice spoke. Rosie didn't want to look at him. When she looked at him, she saw him dead, and then she saw Fraser dead, and then she wished it was her who was dead. "It just happened. I got bit," Carl said, at peace with it. It didn't matter if Carl was at peace with it, because Rosie wasn't, and she couldn't be.
"We killed those walkers because he wanted to honor his mom," Rosie said, gesturing to Siddiq with frustration. She didn't give Carl time to argue. "We coulda' left 'em, but he wanted to honor his mom, and you got bit. Now you're dyin' and it's his fault! He should be the one dyin'! It's his fault!" Rosie said, her voice getting louder and more full of emotion with every word she said.
"Rosie, it's ok. It's gotta be," Carl said, keeping his voice calm. Rosie didn't understand how he could be so calm. She didn't understand why Siddiq was there. Siddiq killed him and he still helped him. She couldn't understand. "You need to be quieter, or they're gonna find us," Carl reminded her.
"He killed you. He should be dead!" Rosie shouted, finally looking over at Carl again. Seeing him just struck another knife through her heart. Siddiq was the cause of this knife in her heart, so she reached for her own knife, on her belt. "Rick shouldn't've shot over his head! He sould've killed him!" Rosie said, pulling her knife out of its sheath. Siddiq had put a knife through her heart, and now she would put a knife through his.
"Daryl," Carl said in warning, his voice tense with worry, but still weak with his impending death.
However, Daryl had already seen the action coming, so he didn't waste any time in grabbing Rosie's wrist and prying the knife out of her hand. She tried grabbing it back, shouting in protest, but Daryl wouldn't let her get at it. "No! Let me go! Let me go! He killed him!" Rosie shouted, trying to pull away from Daryl despite how many times he told her to stop, stop it, Rose, stop.
Carl was dying, and watching Rosie's reaction only made him feel worse. Daryl could see it on Carl's face, on Rick's face, on Michonne's face, on Siddiq's face.
"Let me go! Please, please, let me go! He killed him!" Rosie practically screamed. She struggled against Daryl's grip on her wrist, trying desperately to get her knife back. "No! Let me kill him! No!" she screamed out. Daryl wrapped his arms around her torso and picked her up. She kicked and struggled, screaming "no!" over and over and over again. Daryl's hand pressed against her mouth to stop her screaming, but she didn't stop. She kept screaming into his hand.
Daryl carried her to a different part of the sewer, where it was just him and her with no one else. He set her down in front of him, holding onto her wrists firmly as she tried to get away from him. "Rose-" Daryl started.
"No!" she let out one last agonizing scream of heartbreak and anger.
"Rose, you have to stop screamin'. Please," Daryl said, moving his hands off of her wrists and up to her shoulders. As soon as he let her hands free, they went up to her hair, tugging on the roots as she squeezed her eyes shut tight. "Stop, stop, stop," Daryl murmured, trying not to get frustrated, sad, and angry himself. He pulled her hands away from her hair and held them down at her sides for a moment.
Rosie's chin dropped down to her chest, still squeezing her eyes shut. Luckily for Daryl and everyone else hiding in those sewers, she had stopped her screaming. She couldn't hide her sadness with anger anymore, because Daryl wouldn't let her. Seeing her like this- seeing her lose another big brother- struck a hole through Daryl's chest. But he couldn't even imagine what Rick must've been feeling. Just seeing Rosie cry like this tore apart Daryl's insides, but to look at her and know that she was dying? To know that this was his kid's last day on earth? Rick must've been crumbling on the inside.
"I don't- I don't know what to do," Rosie managed to say in between the sobs that tore through her body. Daryl didn't know what to tell her. There was nothing she could do. Carl was going to die, and there was nothing she could do. Rosie's arms wrapped around her abdomen, squeezing herself tight as some way of trying to comfort herself. She'd done the same thing when David had placed her outside of Fraser's bedroom, pleading for her to stay there. That time, she was left with no one but herself. This time, however, Daryl was there, and he saw this desperate attempt to comfort herself, just like he had seen it when they were in Fraser's bedroom back at her house.
Daryl pulled Rosie towards him, hugging and comforting her the way Rosie had been trying to hug and comfort herself. When Fraser died, she was all alone. But she didn't have to be alone anymore. So she cried and cried and cried until she was all empty and the black fabric that covered Daryl's shoulder was soaked with her tears.
Carl was always there. He was there before Rick was there. He was there at the Atlanta camp, when he wouldn't stop talking, and when Rosie punched him and made his nose bleed. He seemed much younger then, but it'd only been a few years. He'd matured a lot, and grown even more. Rosie never thought he wouldn't be there anymore. It just didn't seem possible. Rick wouldn't ever let that happen. But it happened. It happened and Carl was going to be gone.
"Daryl," Rosie said, her voice firm, but still sad. Daryl pulled away, still holding onto her arms. She took a shaky breath and tried to look strong. "I don't want Siddiq to stay. It's his fault. He can't stay," Rosie told Daryl.
For a second, Daryl was about to tell her that Siddiq was more than likely going to stay and that it wasn't his fault that Carl got bit. But, he thought better of it. If he told her that, Rosie would just want to argue more, and if she wanted to say goodbye to Carl, it was going to have to happen sooner rather than later. Now wasn't the time to make a decision about Siddiq. He'd just have to make sure her knife is out of her reach for now.
"We'll talk about that later, Rosie. You just gotta be with Carl, now," Daryl said, keeping his voice soft in hopes of keeping Rosie calm. When Rosie opened her mouth to argue, he gave her a look that he hoped would convey just how serious he was about being with Carl. They didn't know how long Carl would keep breathing. It was different for everyone. After taking a deep breath to try and calm herself down, Rosie nodded in understanding. "You gonna be calm?" Daryl asked. Again, Rosie nodded. After Daryl stood back up, the two of them walked back down to where Carl was. Daryl went to go talk to the others, who had been formulating a plan. After a moment, he told them all that he and the others were going to see if the Saviors were gone yet, to see if they could leave.
Rosie stood a few feet away from Carl, wringing her hands together in front of her and looking down at her shoes. "I'm real sorry for yellin'," Rosie mumbled out.
"It's ok, Rosie," Carl said, giving her a weak smile.
"I'm real sorry for hittin' you," Rosie admitted quietly.
"It's ok," Carl said, looking up at her with raised eyebrows.
Carl looked even more sick than he did before, and it hadn't even been that long. He couldn't really hold himself up, so he was laying on a cot- the cot they'd brought down here for Siddiq. Rosie chewed on her lip, silently reminding herself not to think about Siddiq. She thought she was all cried out, but her eyes started to burn again.
"I'm gonna miss you real bad," Rosie admitted. She sniffled and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of the shirt she'd been borrowing. "You're like my brother," she said, her own words making herself even sadder. Carl hadn't replaced Fraser- no one could do that- but he had definitely filled up an empty space in her heart.
"Leave her alone. She's just a kid," Carl spoke up. Rick's eyes widened as he stared at his son.
Negan just chuckled, standing back up. He looked at Carl and then back at Rosie. "Found yourself a new big brother, huh, Banks?" he asked, the words stinging like ketchup on a canker sore.
"Rosie," Carl said, making Rosie finally look up from her shoes and make eye contact with him. He still had a sad, weak smile on his face. It made Rosie's chest hurt. "You're my sister," Carl said, his voice firm and set, like he really meant it. And he was her brother. They got into fights together, they caused trouble together, they played games together. They'd done all the things that siblings do together. And they certainly loved, cared about, and stuck up for each other.
"Daryl," Carl's young voice said, lifting himself up onto the counter next to Daryl. "I think something's wrong with Rosie."
"It's like your ma said," Daryl grumbled, "she's jus' different." Carl scoffed and rolled his eyes before sliding off the counter. Daryl furrowed his eyebrows watching him start to walk away. "The hell's wrong?" he asked.
Carl turned back around quickly, giving Daryl a mean glare. "You all say that. And saying it doesn't help her at all, it only makes you feel better about it," Carl said before going back off into the corner he had sat next to Rosie in earlier.
"That means you have to look out for Judith for me. She's gonna need a big sister," Carl said. Rosie nodded, biting down on her tongue. She looked away again, her eyes squeezed shut. It was so hard to look him, knowing that this was the last time she'd see him, the last time she'd talk to him, and the last time he'd talk to her. "You can teach her to play rock, paper, scissors," Carl said with a weak chuckle, which turned into a cough. He was trying to lighten the mood, but it just hurt. Rosie didn't want to teach Judith rock, paper, scissors by herself. She wanted Carl to be there, too. She didn't want him to go.
Rosie was tucked into the corner, slowly taking sips of her Gatorade in order to preserve it, while Carl sat next to her, pouring cups of root beer into red solo cups he found. He was telling her about some crazy birthday party he went to where he got to mix a ton of different sodas together and drink it.
"It tasted so bad," Carl was saying, a small smile on his face as he thought of the memory. "I wish you would have been there."
I wish you would have been there. That was something Carl had been saying a lot lately, whenever he'd think of old stories about his old life to tell Rosie. She couldn't tell if he actually meant it, or if it was just another thing people said.
"I don't want you to..." Rosie's voice broke and she wiped her eyes again, taking a deep breath. She told Daryl she would be calm. She had to be calm. Carl didn't need to feel bad for her. He was dying. She needed to make him happy. "I love you, Carl," she admitted quietly, so that he would know, and not just think that it was true.
"I love you, too, Rosie," Carl said, his voice getting shaky now, too. He held his arm out to his side, opening himself up for a hug. Hesitantly and carefully, Rosie hugged him for one last time, making sure not to hurt him at all.
As soon as the door swung open, Carl pulled Rosie into a hug. Rosie felt like crying again, but she held it in, because she was tough. She had to show Negan that she was tough. She had to stop crying in front of him so he would stop caring. She had to show him that she hated him, and maybe then he'd understand. Maybe then he'd let her go. So she would be tough. She wouldn't cry.
"Are you ok?" Carl asked. Rosie looked up at him and nodded. She wasn't really ok. She didn't feel ok on the inside, at least. But physically, yes, she was ok. So, yes, she nodded. "You aren't- you're not hurt or anything?" Carl asked next. This time, she shook her head. Because, no, she wasn't hurt, physically. She hurt on the inside, but that didn't count, she thought.
"I'm gonna be ok," Carl said, letting Rosie go. She stood back up and wiped her eyes again. It didn't feel real, but it was. At least Carl would be ok. He wouldn't have to be scared anymore. And if there was an afterlife, which Rosie still wasn't sure about, Carl would get to be with his momma. He wouldn't be alone. He'd be at peace. But his name would be added to the list.
The others returned a moment later, and Michonne returned to Rick to relay the new plan. "The Saviors are gone. We can get everyone to Hilltop. We can get Carl there," she said.
"Carl? No," Rick murmured, his wet and red eyes wandering around aimlessly.
Michonne stared at him for a moment, and Rosie could practically see her heart breaking into a million little pieces. "Daryl can get one of the cars," Michonne said.
"Carl won't make-" Rick stopped, cutting himself off. He stroked Judith's hair and took a deep breath. "He can't leave here. I have to stay with him," he said.
"Rick."
"He can't. I have to stay."
"We'll both stay," Michonne told him, nodding her head.
Rick didn't seem to like the idea of Michonne staying. He broke eye contact and sighed, looking around at the sewer walls. Rosie didn't understand how he could be so calm. His voice was soft and he spoke clearly. She wished she could have that type of control over herself. "Will you..." Rick said to Michonne, "Will you take Judith? She needs to be there. If she-" and there it was. Rick's voice broke and his lip quivered. He looked away, his face scrunching up momentarily. Rosie rarely saw Rick like this. He was strong. But Carl was his baby.
"I'll take Judith," Rosie interjected. Michonne and Rick turned to her, examining the determined look on her face. She gave them a look that she hoped would say, I can do it. "Me and-" Rosie paused and looked around, making sure that Daryl was there. He was leaning against the wall behind her. "Me and Daryl. We can take her," Rosie said. Rick looked at Daryl, waiting for a nod a confirmation.
Daryl nodded. "We'll get her there. We'll keep her safe," he said.
"Let me say goodbye," Carl said quietly. Rosie turned back to him. His eyes were practically closed by now, but he opened them back up, just for Judith. Michonne carefully lifted him up into a sitting position, because he was having a hard time keeping himself upright on his own. Rick placed Judith on the ground and let her walk over to Carl, standing in front of him. Carl smiled at her for a moment. "You be good, ok? For Michonne. For Dad. You gotta honor him. Listen when he tells you stuff," Carl said.
Just listening to this was making Rosie feel worse and worse with every word. Judith didn't understand. She was so young, and she didn't understand that she would never see her big brother again after this. Rosie didn't understand either, when Fraser had come into her bedroom that night to say his goodbye. She didn't think it was goodbye forever. But it was.
"You don't have to always. Sometimes, kids gotta show their parents the way," Carl said. He picked his hat up off the ground- the hat that was Rick's before his, the hat that he'd been wearing since the farm- and held it in his lap. "This was Dad's before it was mine. Now it's yours. I don't know, just... just having it and.... It always kept Dad with me. It made me feel as strong as him. It helped me. Maybe it'll help you, too."
Carl looked at Judith and the sad expression on her face. She was too young. She was too young to lose this much. She was too young to have lost so much. She was just too young.
"Before Mom died... she told me that I was gonna beat this world. I didn't. But you will," Carl said, the words hitting each and every person in the room like a bag of bricks. Even Judith began to whimper, tucking her chin down against her chest. "I know you will," Carl said. Judith began to cry loudly, reaching out for her older brother. Rick picked her up and passed her over to Daryl, who held her close against his chest, rubbing her back to try and get her to stop her crying. Carl held out his hat to Rosie, and she took it. She wondered how long it would be until Judith was old enough to wear it and to know what it meant.
"These people. You saved 'em all," Daryl said, looking down at Carl with his eyebrows raised. Carl gave one more sad smile. "That's all you, man," Daryl assured him. With that, Daryl turned to Rosie, putting his hand on her back and lightly pushing her towards the exit.
Rosie looked back at Carl one last time. "Bye, Carl," she managed to squeak out, trying not to cry for fear of making Carl feel bad.
"Bye, Rosie," Carl said in return. Rosie slung her backpack over her shoulders and walked away with Daryl and Judith, out of the sewers, out of Alexandria, out of their home.