Rosie was on her way to check up on Daryl and Lydia, just to make sure he wasn't scaring her too bad, when she found Henry sitting outside and listening in on them. She furrowed her eyebrows, walking quickly over to him. "What the hell are you doin'?" she asked, clearly annoyed by the whole thing.
Henry stood up quickly. "Daryl was listening in on us. What makes this any different?" he asked, holding his hands out to his sides.
"It's completely different. Daryl was listenin' in on us 'cause he was tryin' to get answers on how to find Luke and Alden. You're listenin' in 'cause you're nosy as hell. What they're talkin' 'bout is none of your business," Rosie said, glaring at him with her arms crossed. Maybe she was being overly sensitive about this topic, but it wasn't her fault. She wouldn't want Henry listening in on her talking to Daryl about that, so what made it right for Henry to listen in on Lydia talking to Daryl about that? Nothing. It was just wrong.
"Her mom hurts her. That's messed up, and Daryl's just scaring her more. Why shouldn't I know?" Henry asked, scoffing.
"'Cause it's none a' your damn business! If she wanted you to know, she woulda' told ya herself," Rosie said, getting more and more irritated by the second. It was Lydia's business. It was her vulnerability, her fear, and her story. It wasn't Henry's. He shouldn't've known unless Lydia wanted him to know.
"You told Daryl," Henry argued, raising his eyebrows and gesturing wildly to the cellar, where Daryl and Lydia were talking that very second.
"You don't understand. I had to tell Daryl because he knows what to do and he can help her," Rosie reasoned, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. Why wouldn't Henry just listen? He knew Rosie had more of an idea of what it was like to be in Lydia's shoes than he did, so why wouldn't he just listen?
Henry scoffed, shaking his head. "What makes you think that?" he asked, sarcasm laced in his voice.
"He helped me, didn't he?" Rosie said, her eyes wide and her voice tense.
"As far as I've heard, Daryl didn't do anything until after his brother killed your dad," Henry said.
Where the fuck had he heard that? Rosie definitely didn't tell him. Maybe he'd eavesdropped on someone else talking about it. That would make sense, because apparently, he couldn't mind his own fucking business. Rosie could feel her face burning, and she really, really wanted to punch him. She held back, though, because that would only cause more trouble. "Shut up!" she shouted, instead of punching him. And just as she did, the doors to the cellar swung open, and out walked Daryl.
"The hell you yellin' for?" he asked, pausing his walking for just a moment. "Let's go," he said, nodding his head towards Barrington House.
Rosie sent Henry a glare before following Daryl. "He's bein' a dick," she muttered to Daryl.
"Hey, you could've just asked me to help, Daryl," Henry said, following after the two.
"Fuck off, Henry," Rosie said, tossing her head back in complaint.
"No. Hey! Daryl!" Henry shouted, running to catch up with him. Daryl ignored him and kept walking. "Where you going?!" Henry asked, clearly irritated.
Daryl finally stopped, sighing. He glanced at Rosie, then turned away, not wanting to keep eye contact with her as he spoke his next words. "Girl's too messed up. She's a waste a' time. She's Tara's problem," he said, continuing up the stairs.
Her eyes going wide, Rosie stared at Daryl, pausing at the bottom of the stairs. "What the hell are you talkin' about?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows. He was supposed to help Lydia. What had gone wrong? What suddenly made her a waste of time? What made her any different from Rosie herself? Rosie liked to think that if David were still alive, she would've come to her senses and realized that he was bad to her, and gotten away. But the truth was, she was pretty sure that if David were still around, she'd still be following him blindly, because that's how she was raised. If David ended up like Lydia's mom- wearing the dead's skin- then Rosie would be Lydia. She'd be in that cell and Daryl would be calling her a waste of time who was too messed up.
"What's gonna happen to her?" Henry asked, a worried expression on his face. Daryl didn't say anything. He stood still and silent, facing away from the two teens.
"Daryl," Rosie said, her tone tense. Still, he wouldn't say anything.
"Did someone used to beat you up, too?" Henry suddenly asked. Finally, Daryl turned to meet Henry's- and only Henry's- eyes. Rosie glared at him, but he wouldn't look at her, so she looked down at her shoes and counted the eyelets to keep her cool as Henry spoke. "Once, I heard my dad ask my mom why she kept her hair so short. She said when it was long, her first husband would grab it when she tried to get away. He would pull it and slam her against the wall. So, one day... she just cut it all off, so he couldn't. And I guess it took her this long to feel safe again," Henry explained. He really did like to eavesdrop, apparently. Henry walked up the stairs, but Rosie stayed looking at the ground, in the grass, because Henry's story wasn't making her feel any better. It was making her stomach hurt and it was making her angry. "Sometimes, you act like the type of guy who slams people against walls, but I don't think that's it," Henry said. Rosie wanted to hit him, because she knew that those words would sting so bad, but hitting him wouldn't make her any better than the type of guy who would slam people against walls.
Daryl turned to face Henry a little more. "You shouldn't listen to people talk," he muttered.
"Look, I know Lydia's people are bad, but that doesn't mean she's bad at all. I mean, look at Rosie," Henry said, gesturing back at the girl. Daryl didn't look at her. "Her dad was a piece of shit, and she's one of the most considerate people I've ever met... even if she pisses me off sometimes. And Lydia- she's just scared. You can show her there's nothing to be afraid of. You can do that. And only you," Henry said.
"Nah. Not just me," Daryl said. He turned and went inside, slamming the door shut behind him.
Rosie stared at the door for a moment. She thought about following him, but decided against it. Instead, she turned and decided she'd go to the stables and look at the horses. She didn't know what else to do. She definitely didn't want to go inside with Daryl, and she didn't want to stay with Henry, either, so that was it.
•
It was only half an hour later when Rosie heard a loud thump a little ways away from her. Who else was up this late, aside from the guards? It was strange, and Rosie worried that maybe it was a walker, so she followed the source of the sound. It came from near the trailers, so that was where she went. What she didn't expect to see was Henry sitting in the grass across from Lydia, while eating a worm.
"Henry. Henry, what the fuck are you doin'?!" Rosie whisper-shouted, making both of them jump. Their eyes widened at first, but went back to normal when they saw that it was Rosie and not someone else, like Daryl. "Daryl's gonna be so pissed," Rosie said, her hands going up to her hand to press on her temples.
"I'm just showing her around," Henry said, gesturing to Lydia as he stood up. Lydia stood, too.
"She's not s'posed to be outta the cell! And why are you eatin' worms?" Rosie asked, her eyes wide and her brows raised. This had to be the weirdest thing she'd ever seen Henry do. Why would he be eating a worm right now? There was plenty of other food laying around.
"Calm down! It's ok. I'm gonna bring her back to the cell in a little bit. Daryl won't even know," Henry said, shrugging his shoulders.
Rosie widened her eyes exaggeratedly. "Henry, this is a whole new level of stupid. It's stupid because Daryl's gonna find out somehow, because he always does. And it's stupid because," she turned to look at Lydia for a moment, "no offense, Lydia, but if she wanted to- and maybe she doesn't- but if she wanted to, she could probably kick your ass and escape right now."
"Rosie, she's been in that cell-"
"I know ya feel bad for her, and I do, too, but this is just dangerous," Rosie said, swinging her arms out to her sides.
"What about when Negan put you in a cell? Didn't you want to get out then?" Henry asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Who's Negan?" Lydia asked hesitantly.
"An asshole," Rosie answered before turning to Henry again. He was being stupid and impulsive, and if he wasn't careful, it was going to get him killed. Even though he was an annoying dick sometimes, Rosie didn't want him to die. "And, Henry, that was completely different. You don't know shit about me and Negan and why he was keepin' me there, so keep your mouth shut about it. Don't talk about shit you don't know. Don't talk about me and Daryl, and don't talk about David, and don't talk about Daryl's dad. 'Cause you don't know shit," she ranted.
"Keep your voice down. You're gonna get us caught," Henry hissed, a stern, serious look on his face that made Rosie want to punch him.
"Maybe you should get caught. You're-" A baby started to cry and Henry immediately shushed Rosie, so that they wouldn't get caught. And, despite her words, Rosie really didn't want them to get caught. If they got caught, then Rosie would be grouped in with Henry, and she'd get yelled at, too. And they'd also somehow frame it so that it seemed like it was Lydia's fault, even though it was just Henry being stupid. But just as everything went silent, aside from the baby's cries, Rosie began to hear Lydia whispering something to herself from beside her. She looked over at Lydia to see that her hands had gone to her ears, pressing hard against them, and she was crying. "Lydia? Lydia, are you ok?" Rosie asked. There was no real response, only she's a good person, she's a good person, she's a good person.
"What's wrong with her? Is she ok?" Henry asked, his eyebrows pinched together with concern.
Rosie recognized the way Lydia's breathing was fast, and the way her voice was wobbling, and the way her hands were shaking, and the way she couldn't hear anything but her own thoughts. "Lydia? We can- we can bring you back to the cell, if you want, and we can get you somethin' to eat or- or some water or somethin'," Rosie spoke quickly, hoping that it would catch the speed of Lydia's thoughts. Whenever Rosie was feeling that way, her head was always moving really fast, and when other people were matching that speed, she could listen to them better. "Or, if you want, we can get some, like, washcloths and clean you up a lil' bit. I lived out in the woods, too, and I, um, I know it gets uncomfortable when ya can't get clean for a little while. Its itchy and overwhelming and stuff," Rosie said, gradually slowing her voice back down. She wasn't sure if it was working. "Lydia? Can ya hear me?" Rosie asked, trying to meet Lydia's eyes.
After meeting Rosie's eyes, Lydia seemed to snap out of it. "Put me back in the cell," Lydia said, trying to catch her breath. Rosie nodded, her eyes wide.
"Ok. Ok," Henry said, nodding along with Rosie. He put his hand on Lydia's back and began to lead her back down to the cellar, and into the cell.
"Thanks, Rosie," Lydia said before she walked down the steps with Henry. Rosie nodded and stopped following, taking that as a sign that Lydia didn't want her there anymore.
Now all Rosie could do was go back to Barrington House. She hoped Daryl had already gone to bed, because she didn't really feel like arguing with him. What he said about Lydia- a waste of time who was too messed up- just made Rosie's face burn and her head feel like it was about to pop. It wasn't just because Rosie thought Lydia could be and was a good person; it was because Rosie could see parts of herself in Lydia. The fear, the confusion, the anger, and those times when her head moved too fast and she couldn't breathe. She didn't understand what made her any different from Lydia. Why would Daryl help her and not Lydia? Was it because of who she came from? Who her blood was? Daryl had no right to judge Lydia based off of who her blood was. His blood was Merle Dixon, who chose the wrong side almost his entire life.
The problem with not wanting to see Daryl was that she didn't know where she was supposed to sleep that night. If she didn't want to talk to Daryl, that meant that she would have to ask Tara on her own. Rosie hated asking people for things- except for Daryl. She could ask Daryl for things all the live-long day. And she liked Tara a lot; she just didn't want to ask for anything. But she supposed she had to get over that and just do it. So up the stairs she went.
When she got to the door that she was 99% sure belonged to Tara, she knocked. After a few moments, the door opened. And, thank God, it was Tara and not some random person Rosie didn't know. "Oh, hey, Rosie. You alright?" Tara asked, considering that it was very late and it was strange for Rosie to be knocking on her door at that hour.
"I'm good. Where am I s'posed to sleep?" Rosie asked, getting straight to the point. She hoped her phrasing didn't make it sound like she expected anything big. She just didn't know how to ask.
"You're not staying with Daryl?" Tara asked.
"I can. I just don't know where he is. I'm mad at him, and he feels guilty, so now he's doin' that thing where he avoids me and won't look at me," Rosie murmured, shoving her hands into her pockets. Daryl always seemed to do that when he felt guilty, and Rosie wasn't quite sure what to do about it. But she did think he should have felt guilty, so it wasn't like she could tell him he shouldn't. At the same time, though, watching him avoid looking at her kind of hurt.
"We have guest rooms open, if you want one of those," Tara said, smiling kindly at the girl. Tara was good like that.
"Yes, please," Rosie said, smiling back, even though she didn't really feel like smiling.
•
It was the next morning when Rosie finally found Daryl again. He was standing at the food table, stacking a meal into a tray. Hesitantly, Rosie went to stand next to him. She wanted him to bring it up, so she could tell him what she thought about it. "You eat somethin' yet?" he asked, instead.
"No. But I don't wanna talk about eatin' right now, I wanna talk about the bullshit you said last night. You said she was too messed up and was a waste of time. She's not a waste of time, she's a person, and I coulda been in the same place as her. I don't get why you-"
"Rosie."
"-are actin' like she's any different from me or anyone else. She's just a kid, and she's scared, and she's got some a' the same problems I do, and I think maybe we could help her. But you can't just send her back out there to be with her mom, and you can't kill her, and you can't just leave her in that cell forever, 'cause she didn't do nothin'. It was her people who did it, and you can't blame her for that. It's bullshit, and you know it. She's not a waste a' time."
"Rose."
"Also, it's really, really annoyin' when you do that thing where ya won't look at me or talk to me just 'cause ya feel guilty 'bout somethin'. You could just apologize and listen to me instead, and then neither of us would feel like shit, but now we both do, 'cause you-"
"Rosie."
"Quit interruptin' me," Rosie said, sending him a mean glare.
"I was gonna ask if ya wanna come with me. This food ain't for me, it's for her. You wanna come with me? Talk to her?" Daryl asked. Rosie furrowed her eyebrows with confusion. What made him change his mind overnight? Had he just thought about it more, and finally understood? Daryl saw her confusion, so he decided to explain himself. "I saw you with her last night. Saw you helpin' her. You're right. She's just a kid, and she's scared," Daryl said. The truth was, seeing Rosie helping Lydia through one of those episodes, as Daryl referred to them as, made him realize that Lydia was just a kid, just like Rosie was just a kid back at the Atlanta camp. He made a mistake by not helping Rosie back then, and he was about to make that mistake again by not helping Lydia. He knew that now.
"Really?" Rosie asked, her eyebrows raised.
Daryl nodded and hummed out a yes before putting his hand on Rosie's back and rubbing it up and down. "You did good, helpin' her," he said as they began walking.
"I was tryna' do what you and Maggie do," Rosie said, twisting her lips to the side. Daryl was glad to hear that the things he and Maggie did helped her enough for her to be able to help someone else with it. He hadn't come up with any of it. He just tried to copy what Maggie would do, and it worked for the most part. "You're not mad at us for lettin' Lydia out?" Rosie asked. She couldn't believe that part. If Daryl saw them, then why didn't he come bounding over to them and start yelling?
"It was stupid as hell, but it wasn't you who let her out. Henry did it. Didn't turn out bad, though. It coulda', and he needs to get that through his thick skull," Daryl ranted, obviously frustrated with how Henry had been acting as of lately. On the subject of teen boys he didn't like very much right now, he thought of Ian. "You talk to Ian yet?" he asked.
"Yeah. Everythin's fine. You don't gotta glare at him or anythin'," Rosie said jokingly. Daryl scoffed. "He said you glare at him like you wanna skin him alive. Said he's scared a' you, 'cause a' that," Rosie told him.
"Good," Daryl said, just as they reached the cellar. Rosie rolled her eyes as he pulled open the doors.