Alpha had sent walkers, just as everyone thought she would. For days on end, it was herd after herd after herd. The walkers just kept coming. Rosie had fought long and hard, just like everybody else had. All she wanted to do was to go to her room and sleep for hours and hours.
The last thing Rosie wanted to do was to sit in this stuffy, crowded room with tons of angry, exhausted people who all smelled like shit. But, that was exactly what she happened to be doing. Rosie sat slouched down in a chair next to Lydia's, with her arms crossed. She wanted to go to bed. It took all her strength to keep her eyes open, and the fact that Daryl was standing behind her, running his hand over her hair absentmindedly, was not helping. It only made her more tired.
"Why do we gotta be here?" Rosie groaned, pressing her hands against her eyes.
Before anyone could give any answer, Michonne silenced the entire room. "Alright!" she shouted, loud and powerful. She looked directly at Lydia. "Is this your mother?" she asked, referring to the herd.
Every single pair of eyes in the room shot over to Lydia. She took a shaky breath. "No. I don't think it is," she answered.
"Why's she wanna talk with us?" Daryl asked her.
Rosie honestly just felt bad for Lydia. She shouldn't have had to be the one to answer all these questions. Maybe if it was just the questions, it wouldn't be so bad, but it was the blame, too. She took all of the blame from almost every person in Alexandria. No one trusted her. No one treated her right. She didn't deserve that, and to Rosie, it seemed like no one understood that except for herself.
Lydia looked at Daryl like she couldn't believe he even asked that. The answer was pretty obvious. "You crossed into her land. Again. You have to answer for that," she said, her arms crossed. It was obvious how uncomfortable she felt just by looking at her posture.
"We don't have to do anything. We could just not go," Aaron offered, his voice tense and irritated, just like everybody else's.
"That's a bad idea," Lydia said, shaking her head.
"We're already under attack," Dante- a newer guy around- argued. He had just recently joined Alexandria. He was once a field medic in the military, so he was a useful pair of hands to have around. Rosie wasn't 100% sure how she felt about him yet. He seemed overly nice. It was odd.
Once again, Lydia shook her head. "It isn't her. If she wanted you dead, she'd send the horde. All of it, not just a few waves at a time," she argued.
For the first time during this conversation, Rosie felt the need to speak up. Usually, she'd side with Lydia, just because she felt that Lydia knew what she was talking about when it came to this kind of stuff. But this time, it just seemed impossible. "Yeah, but how else would the walkers be comin'? They're just coincidentally comin' straight for Alexandria in consistent waves?" she asked, showing her disbelief on her face.
"Maybe she's trying to wear us down first," Carol offered.
Then, Eugene stood up out of his chair. "Or, as I relayed to you at the beginning of this meeting, there's plausible reason to believe that the satellite and fire-" he began to say.
"I don't want to hear about the damn satellite anymore, Eugene!" a woman named Margo shouted. She was one of the Highwaymen and she was bitter about the people she lost to Alpha. But everyone lost somebody.
Personally, Rosie wasn't too fond of Margo and her attitude. So, "Shut up, Margo. He could be right," Rosie said exhaustedly.
"Rosie," Daryl murmured in a quiet, warning sort of voice.
Margo turned to Rosie, obviously very pissed off. "My friends died trying to save yours and ended up with their heads on spikes! You were there. You didn't do anything about it," she spat. Rosie only glared, refusing to give any other reaction to the woman's words.
But Daryl- Daryl wasn't having that. "Aye, there wasn't nothin' she could do. She fought just as hard as all your people did," he argued, standing up straighter.
"And yet, she and Siddiq are still here," Margo muttered.
Siddiq had been there, too. Rosie wasn't sure why or how his life was spared. He had gone missing for the first few days after the initial incident, but was later found by people from Oceanside. Sometimes, Rosie wanted to ask him about it. About what happened and how he got away with his life. But she couldn't bring herself to talk about it. It was physically impossible to get the words out of her mouth.
Upon hearing Margo's words, Rosie visibly stiffened, because she hated herself for it. She should have died. Margo was right. But Rosie hated her for saying it. "Fuck you," she spat.
Margo stood up out of her chair before shouting, "The Highwaymen want justice!"
Of course, all of the other Highwaymen in the room shouted their enthusiastic yeah!'s of agreement. And Rosie wanted justice, too. She wanted justice for Tara and Enid and Henry and all of the other people who died in that awful, awful way, but fighting would only cause more deaths. It was a hard decision to make. They could fight and lose more people, or they could abide by Alpha's borders and keep on living.
Then, Margo turned back to the council. "So all I want to hear from you is that you're gonna take a dozen of us to meet these freaks at the border and that we're gonna take that lead bitch's head off!"
"We cut it off! And then we'll put their heads on spikes!" Gage shouted, standing up out of his chair, too. Rosie hated him even more than she used to. She understood that he was angry and sad after losing Addy and Rodney, but that didn't give him the right to go around being an asshole to Lydia. Not to mention the fact that he had already been an asshole beforehand.
Gage's shouting only erupted a whole new chorus of arguments and yelling, and Rosie wasn't sure if she could take it anymore. The images were coming back and burning their way through her mind, no matter how hard she squeezed her eyes shut. Her throat started to close up and her lungs stopped working.
With her heart beating far too fast and far too hard, Rosie stood up and pressed her fingers into her sternum. When she moved to get the hell out of that suffocating room, she felt Daryl's hand catch her shoulder.
"You a'right?" Daryl asked, his voice quiet and his eyes worried.
Rosie shrugged his hand off of her shoulder. "Fine. Just- just need a sec," she murmured before hurrying out the door. When she got outside, she just kept walking until she got to the pond. She sat on the edge of the dock, taking deep breaths and counting the fish she could see in the water.
It wasn't long after Rosie went out there that Siddiq followed. Without a word, he came and sat down on the dock right by Rosie's side. Neither of them said a thing. It was like they somehow made a silent agreement to stay silent.
But Rosie liked it this way. There was someone beside her who knew exactly what she was thinking about and exactly how hard those thoughts were to deal with. But she didn't have to talk about it to get him to understand. He just did. There was a comfort in knowing that she wasn't the only one.
That calming sort of silence only lasted for a little while, though. Because, soon enough, the meeting had dispersed, and out came the grumbling people who disagreed with the plan and the still grumbling people who agreed with the plan.
"Hey," Daryl said as he approached Rosie and Siddiq. Rosie looked up at him before standing up again. "You ok?" he asked.
"Yeah. What, uh- what's the plan?" Rosie asked, shoving her hands into her pockets.
Daryl stared at her for a moment, trying to get a read on her. "Gabriels guarding the gate from the north wave, Aaron's dealin' with the south. Me and a few others are meetin' Alpha at the border," he eventually explained.
"Ok. Am I s'posed to go with Aaron or Gabriel?" Rosie asked. She knew damn well Daryl wasn't going to let her come with to the border, and, to be honest, she didn't even want to go. She was scared that seeing Alpha's face- seeing any of the Whisperer's faces- would trigger something. She was sick of seeing those things. She was sick of thinking about them.
However, Daryl had an even easier job for her than helping Gabriel or Aaron. "Neither. Get some sleep," he told her.
The bags under Rosie's eyes had only grown darker after the past few days of constant fighting, but they were already there beforehand. She already missed enough sleep as is, dealing with nightmares and terrible thoughts to keep her up each night. In addition to that, it was clear to Daryl by just looking at her that she wasn't just tired physically. She was tired mentally. She needed a break. They could spare one fighter.
Rosie, however, didn't like that idea. Who would have guessed? Daryl would have guessed. So when she opened her mouth to argue, he immediately cut her off. "I know, I know. I don't wanna hear it. Take a break," he said.
"I don't need a break. You don't need a break. No one else needs a break, so why do I get one? I should be fightin' out there just as much as everyone else," Rosie argued.
She was trying not to let herself get annoyed because she understood where he was coming from. It was just hard being treated like a little kid all the time. At first, it was just Daryl. Because, in his eyes, she'd always be his kid and he couldn't help the urge to take care of her. Rosie understood that. But now it was everyone. If they weren't the Highwaymen looking at her with anger, they were the people who loved her looking at her with concern, with worry, and with pity.
It was always, Get some rest. Take a break. Are you ok? Are you doing alright? You can take a break if you need it. Just take some time. But Rosie didn't want to have to take some time. It was frustrating and devastating. All she wanted was to be strong again, but she felt so weak.
"They can spare a fighter, Ro. Goin' out there runnin' on no sleep ain't any good, anyway. Get some rest, and you can help at the gates when you wake up," Daryl told her.
"Fine," Rosie huffed, despite just how badly she wanted to argue with him.
"Thank you," Daryl said, squeezing her shoulder. He had expected her to argue more, if he were to be honest.
"Hey, if Margo says somethin' like that again, can I hit her?" Rosie asked, raising her eyebrows.
Daryl took a moment to consider it before answering with, "Try not to."
"Can't make any promises," Rosie murmured before turning to head back to the house.
If she had any more energy, she would absolutely be arguing with him. But her body was screaming at her to get some damn sleep. Her head was pounding with a headache that she'd been so desperately trying to ignore and her eyelids felt like lead, just begging to be closed.
So, Rosie began her march back to her house. With every step, her legs felt more and more like jelly, and her hands felt more and more tingly. She hadn't been this tired in a long, long time. She usually at least got a few hours of sleep, and she also wasn't usually spending all day and night fighting off waves of walkers.
"Rosie," Negan's voice called out, instantly grabbing Rosie's attention. She turned to look at him. He was on clean-up duty, taking care of the dead walkers. But now his attention was on Rosie rather than the walkers. "You take my advice?" he asked, referring back to how he had told her that she needed something to do.
Rosie scoffed. "Ain't fightin' off walkers somethin' to do?" she asked.
Now it was Negan's turn to scoff. "You know that's not what I meant," he said.
"Well, then, does sleepin' count as somethin' to do?" Rosie asked, raising her eyebrows.
Negan's eyes narrowed, pretending to think about it. "Usually, I'd say no, but considering you've been up for more than 48 hours, I'll say yes," he answered.
"You can't tell me what to do anymore. I'll do what I want," Rosie spat, crossing her arms. Only a few months ago, she would've been arguing with him seriously. But this time, she wasn't actually in a bad mood. She was having a good time.
"Never could, kid," Negan chuckled, amused with her. Then, Gabriel called Negan's name, ending Rosie and Negan's little conversation.
So Rosie continued on home. When she got there, she passed by Ian in the living room. He had walker blood all over his shirt and had passed out on the couch. Seeing him taking a break made Rosie feel a little less shitty about taking a break herself.
Up the stairs, Rosie went all the way to her bedroom. It was the same bedroom she had once shared with Daryl, but now it was hers and hers only. It was bare, just like it was yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. It made Rosie's okay-mood damper. It made her stomach fill with anxiety for no reason at all. It made all those feelings she felt whenever she hid in her bedroom flood right back into her.
God, it was so frustrating. She had no control over her mind anymore. All she wanted was that control.
But Rosie was exhausted. She needed the sleep, so she'd try to get it. She'd try to let her mind rest, no matter how hard it fought against her.
Rosie laid herself down on her bed, burying her face in her pillow. Her head was throbbing and her eyes burned, and finally closing her eyes felt so damn good.
As she lied there, Rosie tried thinking of the good things. She thought about the camp in the woods with Daryl. She thought about sitting at the end of that little dock and looking at the stars. She thought about Orion's Belt and how she had once compared Daryl to Orion. How they had talked about their scars that night. How Daryl had told her that he'd love her no matter what she said or did or thought, forever. He'd stuck true to his word.
Then, she thought about the time Daryl had first taught her to use his crossbow. How she had almost gotten bit because he left to take a piss. And then she figured out how to use the crossbow on her own. And after that, Daryl taught her to use it properly. She had only gotten better as the years went on.
After that, she thought about meeting Ian. How he had arrived at the prison, on that school bus with his mother. And how Rosie had once thought that he was the most annoying human being in the history of the universe. How did he end up becoming her best friend?
And Lydia, too. Lydia's sweet smile and her dark eyes. Jesus, that was so damn cheesy. Imagine what David would say, finding out I think this way, Rosie thought to herself.
Honestly, he'd probably beat her senseless. He'd beat her until she was unrecognizable.
Damnit. There were those bad thoughts again.
Daryl was better. He even knew before Rosie did. And he didn't even give a shit. Daryl would never admit it to anyone, but he was honestly a bit relieved, finding out that Rosie preferred girls over guys. Just because of the fact that guys tended to be assholes a bit more often than girls did.
Rosie had once told Rick that kissing was gross. It was after she saw Glenn and Maggie kissing at the farm.
Nodding, Rosie looked back over to the porch. Now Glenn and Maggie were standing on the grass, kissing again. She scrunched her face up. "Why do they keep doin' that?"
Rick chuckled a little and leaned his hand on the car door. "Because they like each other," he said.
"That's what Daryl said. But it's gross," Rosie muttered, furrowing her eyebrows at Glenn as he started walking closer.
Smiling a little, Rick ruffled Rosie's hair. "You're absolutely right, Rosie. Don't you forget it," he said before getting into the drivers seat of the truck.
But now, Rosie sometimes found herself thinking about kissing Lydia. That was weird. It was very weird. She'd be sitting right next to Lydia, talking like normal, and then, out of nowhere, her heart would jump around and her breath would catch in her throat, and she'd find her eyes flickering down to Lydia's lips. Rosie couldn't even believe herself. She felt like some cheesy movie character.
All sorts of these thoughts and memories were swirling around in Rosie's head, distracting her from the bad ones. And, eventually, Rosie was finally able to drift off.
•
Rosie was in that barn again. She was in that barn and someone was holding onto her wrists and whispering in her ear, saying, "Keep your eyes open. Look. Watch. Open your eyes." Her eyes were open wide. Enid was across from her, screaming and crying. Alpha was standing right there behind her. Henry was already dead. He had cried for his mother. He had cried for Carol. His lifeless body was on the ground next to Rosie, blood pouring out of his neck.
God, why couldn't she get out? Why couldn't she stop this? She was screaming, screaming, screaming for help, but no one was coming.
Her eyes open wide, Rosie shot up in bed. It was dark outside, making the room almost pitch black. The house was quiet. All Rosie could hear was her heart in her chest and the air in her lungs. She took deep, fast breaths.
She was all alone. RJ and Judith would be asleep by now. Everyone else would be out killing all the walkers that were growling so goddamn loudly that it was suffocating.
Pressing her hands into her eyes, Rosie tried to get the images out of her head, so she could breathe again. But they weren't going away. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe at all. Where was Daryl? Shit. Shit. He was gone. He was at the border. He wasn't there. Yes, stupid, he's not here.
Fuck. Rosie couldn't breathe. She pushed herself out of bed and into the hallway. It was just as dark in there as it was in Rosie's bedroom. But Rosie knew that Daryl's bedroom was exactly two doors down from hers. Her fingers were pressing hard against her sternum, as if rubbing it would make her lungs start working again.
When Rosie got into Daryl's room, her first instinct was to lay herself down on the bed, breathe, and pretend that she wasn't on her own. Pretend that she wasn't struggling. Pretend that she was strong again. But before Rosie made it to the bed, her eyes landed on Daryl's bedside table.
Just below the lamp- which happened to be flicked on- was the lighter that Daryl had taken from Rosie in the winter. The one with the initials D.D. carved into it. Rosie grabbed it quickly, then opened up the drawer of the bedside table. She shoved things around inside, hoping to find a pack of cigarettes, but there wasn't one.
Damnit.
Rosie went to his closet next. Hung on the doorknob was a jacket. She stuck her hand inside each pocket. Still nothing. Hanging over the back of the chair in the corner was a pair of black jeans. Rosie checked the pockets on those, too. Still, there was nothing.
After searching each drawer of Daryl's dresser, Rosie finally gave up. She sat herself down on the edge of his bed and squeezed her eyes shut. They were burning again. Her head was throbbing again. Her eyelids felt like lead again.
She stared at the lighter in her hand for a moment, thinking really hard. Thinking about why Daryl took it. Thinking about how it would mess up her head even more than her head was already messed up. Thinking about how stupid she was for searching this entire room for a single cigarette. Jesus Christ, she thought to herself, are you that fucking desperate?
It was stupid. It was so goddamn stupid. It was so goddamn stupid that it was something David would do.