When Rosie, Daryl, Connie, Lydia, Henry, and Ian all showed up at the gates of Alexandria, Rosie was confused. Laura- an ex-Savior- was keeping watch. That wasn't what was so confusing. What was so confusing was that Laura wouldn't open the gate. It was them! It was Rosie and Daryl! Why wouldn't they just open the gates? Didn't they trust Daryl and Rosie enough to know that it was ok to Lydia into Alexandria?
It was beyond frustrating. Rosie shoved her hands into her pockets and waited as Aaron went to get Michonne.
"Henry's hurt," Daryl shouted up to them once Michonne got there. Henry could barely walk. And the wound on his leg was disgusting to look at, in Rosie's opinion. "You were closest. I wouldn't've come. We had no other choice," Daryl explained.
Michonne didn't seem convinced. She stared down at Lydia with a strong fury in her eyes. "What about her?" she asked.
"She's with us," Rosie said, looking at Michonne with eyes that she hoped said I mean it. Making eye contact with Michonne, Daryl gave a subtle nod of confirmation. Yes, she's with us.
Still, Michonne didn't seem convinced. She turned to Aaron and they had a quiet conversation that Rosie couldn't make out. But, eventually, Michonne turned back around. "Open it!" she shouted. But it still didn't seem like she wanted this. It seemed like she was doing this because she really, really had to. Rosie could tell by the look on each person's face that they did not want Lydia there.
They just weren't understanding enough. They should have been. Hershel understood when Rick came banging on his front door with a dying Sophia in his arms. Carl understood when Michonne was standing outside of the gates at the prison. Rick understood when he allowed all of Woodbury to join them at the prison. Everyone understood when Glenn brought Tara into the group, even though she had been on the side of the Governor. Aaron understood when he brought all of them back to Alexandria. Rick understood when he made the choice to let the Saviors join them. But Michonne didn't want to let Lydia stay there.
The gates squeaked and squealed as one of the Alexandrians pulled it open. Rosie hadn't been to Alexandria since she was twelve. That was when Daryl woke her up in the middle of the night and dropped her off at Alexandria before going off with Michonne to find and save the kids, who had been taken. That was when Rosie talked to Negan and he told her that he killed Glenn and Abraham and that he tortured Daryl.
Back then, Rosie would have run through those gates with an undying excitement bubbling in her stomach. But now, she had this awful, awful feeling of dread and anxiety churning around in her stomach. She wondered if Negan was back, or if he had gotten away. Michonne hadn't said anything about it. Rosie wondered if Negan did come back, if he told anyone that he saw her and talked to her out there.
Rosie hadn't even told Daryl that. She should've. She really, really should've. And now she was really, really, really regretting that she hadn't told him, because now he might find out himself.
No, Rosie scolded herself internally, that's selfish. Henry needs help, so we're going in.
But still, Rosie needed that gentle push as the gates opened up. And Daryl provided just that. He lightly shoved her forward to get her feet moving. Then, she just followed along with the rest of the group. She tried to keep her eyes on Connie's shoes in front of her, so she wouldn't have to look at everything else. If she looked at everything else, she'd find herself thinking about the destruction. The night when Negan attacked Alexandria and Carl- God damnit, now Rosie was thinking about Carl.
"Your hand's gonna need stitches," Daryl said as Michonne led them to the infirmary.
"No. No, it's not," Rosie said quickly, shaking her head. She did not want to get stitches again. Not in a million years. No way.
"Cut's too long to heal on its own," Daryl told her.
"Shut up. No, it ain't," Rosie muttered, crossing her arms. Lydia helped Henry walk into the infirmary so the doctor could to his stitches while Rosie, Ian, Connie, and Daryl waited outside. Daryl began to wash his bloody hands off in a bucket.
"Judith will be excited to see you, once you get your hand fixed up," Michonne said, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.
"My hand a'ready is fixed," Rosie said, holding her hand up to show that it was neatly bandaged. Unfortunately for her, she was already bleeding through the bandages, so she shoved it back into her pocket, pretending that it was just fine.
"Right," Michonne said sarcastically, letting herself chuckle a little. She stepped away from the wall, closer to Daryl. "So, where to now?" she asked, watching Daryl clean the blood from his hands. "Straight to the Kingdom?" Michonne guessed.
"Well, probably not straight, but, yeah... Carol should know," Daryl said with a nod.
Connie stepped closer to Michonne and held her notepad out in front of her. Rosie looked over Michonne's shoulder to see what it said. This wasn't the plan, but I'd do it all again, the notebook said. Then, Connie flipped to the next page. With different shoes, Connie had written. She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side, and even Michonne smiled a little.
"You're up next," the doctor said to Rosie, wiping his hands clean as he walked out of the infirmary. Rosie huffed out a sigh and begrudgingly stepped inside the infirmary. She hated getting stitches, but she figured she was too old to pitch a fit about it. "I hear you're not the biggest fan of doctors," the man said.
"Who said that? Siddiq?" Rosie guessed. The doctor chuckled and nodded as he began to unwind the bandage. "Well, last time he gave me stitches was when I was eleven and I got shot. That ain't a very fond memory a' mine," Rosie said.
"Yeah. I can imagine," the doctor said. He got out a small, wet cloth and began to wipe the blood away from the cut on Rosie's hand. "I'm Luther. And you're Rosie, correct?"
"Yep. Rosie," Rosie said, nodding her head. She tensed up when she Luther get out the needle and thread.
As he started disinfecting them, Rosie turned around to look out the door. Lydia was standing out there with Henry and Ian. Daryl was still cleaning his hands. Connie was with Michonne. And Rosie was inside, about to get a needle pushed and pulled through her skin. She let out a shaky breath, and just as she did, Lydia suddenly glanced back and made eye contact with her. Rosie quickly turned around, facing the doctor once again.
"Alright. Ready?" Luther asked. And even though she didn't want to, Rosie nodded. As soon as the needle pushed through her skin, she bit down hard on her lip and closed her eyes. Looking at it was even worse than just feeling it.
After the second stitch, Rosie felt the cushion on the medical table beside her sink a bit. She opened her eyes and looked to her left. Sitting right there next to her was Lydia. Lydia gave a comforting smile.
"Hi," Rosie said, her eyebrows raised with surprise. She hadn't expected Lydia to go in there for her.
"Hey," Lydia said, tucking her hair behind her ear. She looked down at the wound on Rosie's palm. "I'm sorry about... that," she gestured to Rosie's hand, "and everything else."
"It's nothin'," Rosie said, shrugging. It really was something, though. She just wanted to seem humble or cool or something. God, she needed to get over this. She pressed her lips together for a moment, thinking of something to say. "So... you..." she trailed off awkwardly. "Never mind. I don't even know what I was gonna say."
Lydia laughed, not in a mean way, but in a tension-breaking way. "Yeah. Must be hard to try and talk to me now you know what my people- or who used to be my people- are like," Lydia said. She tried not to seem sad, but Rosie could tell. "Pretty weird."
"Nah, it's fine. We've all got somethin'. Y'know, like, Ian... he's terrified a' Daryl even though he's known him since he was, like, eleven. And Henry's almost eighteen and his voice still ain't dropped. And I'm seventeen and can't stop thinkin' 'bout dinosaurs. And you wore walkers' faces as masks. We all got somethin'... weird."
Rosie didn't expect it to, but it made Lydia actually start laughing. It made Rosie forget all about the stitches the doctor was giving her.
"I do get why Ian's scared of your dad, though. I'm kinda scared of him, too," Lydia admitted.
"He's not even scary," Rosie said, rolling her eyes.
"Maybe not scary, but intimidating for sure," Lydia insisted. Rosie twisted her lips to the side, because she felt like she'd been smiling so much that it'd be obvious to Lydia what she was thinking. "And Daryl's probably extra mean to Ian, because he's your boyfriend," Lydia added.
"Ian ain't my boyfriend," Rosie said, furrowing her eyebrows. She wasn't mad or surprised that Lydia had assumed that, though. She could understand why it would seem that way.
"Oh, really? I'm sorry," Lydia said, her eyes a bit wider than before.
"It's ok. He's my best friend, for sure. I just..." Rosie paused for a moment, thinking about whether or not to tell Lydia this. It wasn't anything to be ashamed of, right? It wasn't like she was supposed to hide it or something. "I just don't like boys like that," Rosie said. Lydia's eyebrows raised a bit. "Far as know, I guess. I'm still... figurin' things out," Rosie told her.
For a moment, Lydia was quiet. It looked like she was thinking deeply about something. But this silence only lasted a moment. "I'm still figuring things out, too," Lydia said.
-
"Rosie!" Judith exclaimed, running up to the blonde-haired girl and throwing her arms around her waist. Rosie hugged her back, even though it was sort of like seeing a stranger. "You're so tall!" Judith giggled, looking up at Rosie.
"You kiddin'? You're so tall," Rosie countered, tipping Judith's- or Carl's- hat up a bit so that she could see her face.
"Negan says I'm taller than you were when you were my age," Judith said proudly, putting her hands on her hips and straightening her posture. Judith talked to Negan? Did Michonne allow that?
"Negan's still here, huh?" Rosie asked warily.
"Yeah. He got out, but he came back. He's trying to be good. Anyway, he says I'm a lot like you. And he says I'm a lot like Carl," Judith said.
Rosie took a deep breath because thinking about Carl still hurt. Hell, even thinking about Fraser still hurt and it had been 12 years since he died. Rosie had come to realize that with important people, like Carl and Fraser, it never stopped hurting. But she had also come to realize that she doesn't have to hurt all the time because of them. She could think of the good times, too, and then she could be happy. She didn't only have to hurt. But the hurt was good, too. It was important to feel all of those things.
"Daryl says so, too," Judith said, rocking on her heels.
"I bet you are. I missed you lots, know that? Bein' out there, I ain't got no one to play rock paper scissors with," Rosie said, raising her eyebrows a little.
Judith's smile grew wider. "Uncle Daryl never played?" she asked. It was very weird hearing Judith call Daryl Uncle Daryl. But he was her uncle. Did that make Rosie her cousin? It was all too confusing. All that mattered was that they were family.
"He played once, but he kept losin', so he never played again. He's a sore loser," Rosie complained.
"Well, we can play now," Judith offered, holding out her fist.
"Ok. I'mma win, though," Rosie said, holding out her own fist, too.
"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!" Judith chanted. Rosie threw out scissors and Judith threw out rock. She smiled wide. "I won," she taunted in a sing-song voice.
"Nuh-uh. Best two outta three," Rosie said, shaking her head. They went again, and Judith won again. "Damnit," Rosie said jokingly.
"Guess you're a sore loser, too," Judith teased. Rosie let out a small laugh. Once the laughter died down though, Judith's smile seemed to fade into a more serious look. "Can I tell you something?" she asked.
"Yeah," Rosie said, her eyebrows furrowed. There was a serious tone shift and she didn't understand why.
"Ok, just... come with me," Judith said. She then grabbed Rosie's hand and began walking. Rosie got this strange feeling in her heart as Judith held her hand and led her to wherever she planned on taking her. It reminded her of Glenn. It reminded her of being little again. It reminded her of the comfort that came from Glenn holding her hand and leading her back to safety. She hoped she could be a comfort like that to Judith, too.
What Rosie really, really did not expect, though, was for Judith to lead her to Negan's cell. Rosie pulled her hand out of Judith's when they got outside. "What're you doin'?" she asked, confused and a little frustrated, even if she didn't want to admit that.
"It's what I was gonna tell you. I think you should talk to him," Judith said, her eyebrows raised. Rosie didn't know what to say. Why did Judith want this? Didn't she know that Rosie wasn't allowed to talk to Negan? But, then again, Rosie was almost an adult. Did Daryl really get to decide whether or not she could talk to certain people anymore? "He misses you just as much as I do. And he's changed. Mom said you couldn't come to Alexandria because you want Negan to change and he wouldn't. But now he has changed. So you can talk to him again," Judith said.
"Jude..." Rosie murmured, unsure of what to say or do.
"I know Daryl doesn't want you to. But sometimes kids have to show their parents the way. You can show him that Negan changed," Judith continued. Rosie stayed quiet. "Lydia changed. You can see that. I saw you with her. You talked to her. You can talk to Negan."
"I did talk to him. When he got out, I saw him. He..." Rosie didn't know what to say. Because he did seem changed. He apologized. He let her go when she wanted to go. He even came back to Alexandria. But maybe Rosie was just falling for it again. She'd fallen for Randall's act back at the farm. How was she supposed to know Negan wasn't doing the exact same thing?
"He changed, Rosie. You know he did," Judith insisted.
But Rosie knew Negan wasn't doing the same thing Randall was. She told herself that she didn't, but she did. She knew. Negan was good to her and he wanted to be good again, but part of her didn't want to let him. After everything he'd done. After everyone Rosie lost. She didn't want to let him. But, God damnit, she wanted him to be good again so bad.
"I'll go with," Judith said, taking Rosie's hand again. When Judith began leading Rosie down the stairs to get into the room with Negan's cell, Rosie let her. She didn't fight it. She could've. She could've ripped her hand away or tugged Judith in the opposite direction, but she didn't. She went along with her.
When Negan heard the door open and shut, he glanced up from the book he was reading. At first, he just looked back down at the book, but then he did a double-take. "Rosie," he said, surprised.
"Hi," Rosie murmured, looking at the wall instead of at Negan.
"Her and Daryl are visiting. Well, not really visiting. They just needed a doctor," Judith explained. She let go of Rosie's right hand and grabbed her left wrist, raising it so that Negan could see the bandage around Rosie's left hand. "She hurt her hand fighting somebody. They tried to stab her, but she's strong," Judith said.
"Damn right, she is," Negan said, trying the break through the ice that was keeping Rosie silent. She almost cracked a smile, but she didn't let herself. She twisted her lips to the side, instead. That worked for Judith, but Negan knew her long before Judith did. He knew it was her way of hiding a smile. He found a small smile appearing on his face, too.
"Rosie said she saw you. And you didn't tell me," Judith said, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms as she glared at Negan. "Why didn't-"
"Hold on a sec, Jude," Negan interrupted. He placed his book face down on his cot and got up to walk closer to the bars. Rosie looked up from the ground and took a small step back. Even if he was behind bars, she felt a little anxious. "Rosie, if you don't wanna be here, you don't have to be. It's fine," Negan said.
"I don't... I don't know," Rosie muttered, anxiously wringing her hands together. Judith was staring at her, her eyebrows furrowed. She didn't understand any of this. She saw things one way while Rosie saw things a million different ways. That must've been why everything was so difficult for Rosie. Because she saw things in a million different ways and she didn't know how to feel about any of it. "Daryl doesn't... you..." she paused and took a breath, taking a moment to think through her words. "Last time I was here, you said all that bullshit, and now it's real hard not to think about that and- and what you did. And it sucks 'cause I really used to-" Rosie cut herself off and pressed her fingers into the stitches on her hand.
"I know. But I'm trying, Rosie," Negan said. The look on his face said he was being genuine, but Rosie wished he wasn't. That would make this easier. If he would just stay bad, she could just hate him. But he was being good. He wanted to be good. He was trying. She couldn't hate him.
"He is. I promise," Judith added.
"I know," Rosie said, turning her head away. She tried to take a deep breath again, but she was getting that feeling that made it hard to breathe. So she turned and left the room, leaving Judith and Negan in a disappointed silence.