"No. No, no, no, no, no," Rosie muttered to herself over and over again as she stared into Negan's empty cell. He was supposed to be there. He was supposed to be there so Rosie could talk to him and so she could yell at him for telling Daryl what she said. But he was gone.
Maybe it was a good thing. If Negan was gone, at least the council couldn't vote to murder him for killing Margo. But, either way, he was gone. Rosie didn't want him gone, she wanted him there. Where she could talk to him, where she could see him. If Negan was gone, that meant Fraser was, too, and Rosie couldn't handle that.
Rushing up the stairs and back into the house, Rosie tugged on the roots of her hair. When she got inside, she went straight up to Daryl's bedroom and banged on the door, no matter what she said to him last night.
"Daryl!" she said, slamming the side of her fist against the wood over and over again.
After a moment, Daryl finally swung the door open, buttoning the last button on his shirt. "What?" he asked, obviously annoyed by the incessant knocking.
"Negan's gone. He's- I went down there and he's gone," Rosie explained quickly, her eyebrows pinched together. Daryl stared at her for a second, comprehending and thinking through her jumbled words, before stepping past her and hurrying down the stairs.
Rosie rubbed her face, standing still in her spot. What was she going to do now? Negan couldn't be gone. He couldn't be. Her head turned at the sound of a quiet inhale. Ian was in the doorway to his bedroom.
"What's going on?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.
"You were listenin'," Rosie scoffed, turning to follow Daryl down the stairs.
"Did you talk to Lydia?" Ian asked, following the girl down the stairs.
"Not since last night," Rosie answered, shrugging her shoulders. She probably should've gone looking for Lydia to make sure she was ok, but she panicked once she saw that Negan was gone.
"I heard you arguing with Daryl," Ian said. Rosie rolled her eyes. She definitely didn't want to talk about that. It was the very last thing wanted to talk about, in fact. She had kept her door open, just like she promised. It didn't make a difference, though. She wasn't gonna kill herself. "Is he still mad about it?"
"Don't know. Well, probably, but he feels bad gettin' mad at me, so he's pretendin' he's not. I bet he is, though," Rosie said, huffing out a sigh. She felt bad about what she said. That was supposed to be her apology for what she said before that. But it ended up even worse.
"You wanna go figure out what the hell's happening?" Ian asked, changing the subject much to Rosie's appreciation.
"Right after I go and kick Gage's ass," Rosie muttered, swinging open the front door.
Ian's eyebrows shot up, but then he just followed after her. "Mind if I join you?" he asked.
At first, Rosie was confused. "Thought Gage was your friend," she said, furrowing her eyebrows.
Scoffing, Ian shook his head. "He isn't. And he hasn't been for awhile. You'd know that if you weren't sitting around in your room all the time," Ian told her. Rosie rolled her eyes at him. She had had enough of people telling her to come out of her room more. "He said some shitty stuff about Maia a couple months ago," Ian explained.
Maia was the name of Ian's girlfriend from Oceanside. She'd come to visit a few times, and Ian had gone there a few times, too. So far, Rosie liked her. So hearing that Gage said shit about Maia, too, only fueled Rosie's fire.
"He's called me some shitty stuff, too. I didn't even know what some of it meant. Had to ask Daryl. I tried not to get mad and to be the bigger person or whatever nice people say, but now he's bein' shitty to Lydia, too, so I ain't just gonna let him keep gettin' away with it," Rosie ranted, working herself up more and more.
"Sounds like you got some good reasons for kicking his ass, then," Ian said.
"I think so. Don't let me kill him, though," Rosie murmured as they stepped off the stairs and onto the sidewalk.
She didn't want to kill Gage. She just wanted to hurt him as badly as he hurt Lydia. And maybe that was a bad thing. Maybe that was immature or overdramatic. But Rosie didn't care. She just wanted Gage to hurt.
Almost as soon as the two got outside, they spotted Gage across the way. He was talking with the guy he and Margo always hung around. Rosie was pretty sure the guy was named Alfred or something like that. Either way, it didn't matter. She set her sights on Gage and began walking towards him.
Last night, Rosie wanted to hit him, but she didn't because Lydia needed her to be calm in that moment. But now, Lydia was nowhere to be seen and Rosie's anger had only grown with Negan going missing. So there was nothing stopping her when she grabbed Gage's shoulder and spun him around to face her before sending a hard punch to his nose.
"Rosie, what the hell?!" Gage shouted, cupping his nose with his hand. Rosie punched him again, and Ian had to stop Alfred from stepping in. It only took that second hit to get Gage to fight back. "You bitch! I bet you let Negan out!" Gage shouted, punching Rosie hard across the face.
It had been a long time since Rosie was punched like that. Years, even. It's hard to get punched when you're living out in the woods and the only person you ever see is Daryl, who wouldn't hit you if his life depended on it.
The fight went on and some people began gathering around, shouting for the two to stop, but neither did. Rosie and Gage just kept fighting, punching each other until their faces were bloody. After a little while, Rosie could hear Ian shouting at her to stop because it was going too far, but all Rosie could think about was how Gage had attacked Lydia and how he somehow managed to put the blame on Lydia for it.
Bullshit. It was all bullshit. Gage was an asshole and he deserved this. He deserved this for the shit he called Rosie. He deserved it for forcing Rosie to try that cigarette. He deserved it for beating up Lydia. He deserved it for being an immature, brainless, cruel human being.
So Rosie kept fighting until she had the upper hand. And once she was knelt over Gage, she just kept hitting him and hitting him and hitting him and hitting him, bloodying her fists and bloodying his face.
"Rosie!"
"Shut up, Ian!"
"Rosie!"
It was Daryl this time, shouting her name. Rosie ignored him until his hands were around her biceps, pulling her off of Gage.
"Let go of me!" Rosie shouted, trying to rip her arms out of Daryl's grasp. She spit out a wad of bloody saliva. "Daryl, let go!" she yelled, her voice shaking. She didn't want to let on, but her face and hands hurt badly.
"Stop! Stop it!" Daryl scolded, tugging Rosie towards himself before forcibly turning her around and making her walk back towards the house. Rosie fought against him at first, but once they were a few feet away, she decided it was useless. "The hell you thinkin', doin' that?" Daryl asked quietly, but with an angered tone.
"He deserves worse," Rosie snapped.
"You're fuckin' up, Rosie. You need to calm the hell down," Daryl told her.
"I am calm," Rosie muttered back, finally ripping her arm from his grasp.
"I'm not talkin' 'bout now. I'm sayin' in general. Every damn day," Daryl elaborated, pushing Rosie through the front door. Rosie huffed out a sigh of annoyance. "Sayin' shit you don't mean. Freakin' the fuck out on people. Ain't you," Daryl said, leading her into the kitchen.
Rosie sat down on the counter and Daryl grabbed a towel from a drawer. He ran it under the water in the sink before giving it to Rosie, who used it to wipe the blood running from each nostril. "It is me," she grumbled.
"Maybe when you were nine, but it ain't you now," Daryl said, shaking his head.
It was obvious. Rosie hadn't been like this before. Sure, she could get angry. She could get mad just like Daryl could. But Rosie never just wanted to make people hurt. Not unless they really, really deserved it. Hell, she didn't want Negan to hurt, even after everything he did. It wasn't like her to be so careless.
"You're mad and you're strugglin', and I get that, but it ain't an excuse to go 'round gettin' yourself into trouble. Maybe Gage deserved this, but the shit you been sayin' to me? I don't deserve that. I'm only tryna help you, and you're tryna push me away. So quit it," Daryl said. Rosie wanted to roll her eyes, but she knew it was true. "Gimme that," he murmured, taking the cloth out of Rosie's hand. He wiped away all the blood she had missed.
"I'm sorry," Rosie muttered. She wasn't sorry about hitting Gage, but she was sorry for what she was saying to Daryl yesterday. And she wasn't sorry for not talking to him because she just wasn't ready to. That wasn't something she had to be sorry for. It was just the truth, plain and simple.
"I'm sick a' hearin' how sorry you are when you ain't tryna make any changes. Sorry doesn't mean nothin' if you aren't gonna fix what you're doin' wrong, Rose," Daryl said.
Rosie knew it was true, but she didn't know how to fix it. Everything hurt, now on the inside and on the outside, and she didn't know how to make it go away. Everyone always said to talk about it. But that felt impossible. Talk about it, talk about it, talk about it. It never worked. Even if she opened her mouth to say the words, she couldn't. Especially not to Daryl. How was she supposed to tell Daryl that sometimes she felt like she wanted to die?
"I'm goin' to Hilltop with Siddiq. Gonna help 'em fix the wall," Daryl said, tossing the towel into the sink. Rosie slid off the counter. "Stay here. Keep an eye on Lydia. Don't beat the shit outta anyone unless they try somethin' with her."
"What if they try somethin' with me?"
"Then be the bigger person," Daryl answered.
To that, Rosie scoffed. She scrunched up her face, but quickly regretted it. "How come I don't gotta be the bigger person if she's the one gettin' messed with?"
"'Cause you're gonna try to get someone to hit you just so you can hit 'em back," Daryl answered.
"No, I won't," Rosie argued, crossing her arms.
"Just don't fight anyone, a'right? Why ya gotta argue with everythin' I say?" Daryl huffed, raising his eyebrows at her. To that, Rosie had no answer. She just shrugged. Daryl sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Be good. Please," he said, and Rosie nodded.
When Daryl pulled Rosie in to kiss her head, she wrapped her arms around his chest and hugged him tight. Daryl didn't expect it. He expected Rosie to be mad at him. But he accepted the hug, either way.
"I'm sorry," Rosie said. Daryl nodded. He knew she was sorry, even if she didn't want to admit it before. "I'm tryin'."
"I know," Daryl replied, rubbing up and down on her back.
"I wanna come with."
"No," Daryl said, shaking his head and pulling away.
"But I wanna see Connie."
"No. You can't be goin' out there right now. Not with the everythin' that's been goin' on with the Whisperers," Daryl explained. He grabbed his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder.
"Oh, I get it. You just don't want me stealin' your girlfriend, huh?" Rosie teased, raising her eyebrows and trying to hide her amused smirk.
"Jesus. You know that ain't it," Daryl huffed, rolling his eyes. Rosie gave him a look that said, suuuurrre. And he rolled his eyes again. "It ain't like that."
"You wish it was."
"I could ground you. Know that?" Daryl said, raising his eyebrows in a warning type of way.
"Ya could, but ya won't. Lockin' me in my room when all you've been tryna do lately is get me out of my room would pretty counterproductive," Rosie told him.
"Go see if Dante's got any icepacks. I'll see ya tomorrow," Daryl said, patting Rosie's back once more before walking out the front door.
Almost immediately when Daryl left, Ian waltzed in through the front door, sporting a new bruise on his cheek. "Look at us. We're twins," Ian said, pointing to his cheek, and then at Rosie's. Rosie just rolled her eyes. "How mad is Daryl?"
"He said sorry doesn't mean nothin' if I ain't fixin' my behavior. He sounded like my old teachers," Rosie said, pressing her lips together. She knew it was true, though. Daryl was right. She needed to figure out what was going on with herself before she did something even worse than attacking Gage.
"He's right, though. You took that too far," Ian said, passing Rosie to grab a cup from the cabinets. He began to fill it up with water. "I tried telling you to stop, but you wouldn't listen. Had to stop Alfred- or whatever the dude's name is- from joining in. They would've kicked your ass if I wasn't there."
"No, they wouldn't've," Rosie disagreed, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes.
"Yes, they would've. You're not the Hulk, Rosie. You're human, too," Ian said, sipping his glass of water.
"Daryl coulda' taken 'em both," Rosie pointed out.
"Yeah, and Daryl's a grown-ass man. You're a 17-year-old girl," Ian argued. He had a point, but Rosie wouldn't admit it.
"Careful, Ian. I'll kick your ass, too," Rosie warned jokingly. Even though it was supposed to be an insult to his fighting ability, Ian laughed. He never got to hang out with the Rosie that would joke like this anymore. She always seemed out of it. Even if she was there, in the room with him, sometimes it seemed like she was way off, somewhere else. Maybe she was getting better. "I'm s'posed to go get an icepack from Dante. Wanna come?" she asked.
"We could just use something from the fridge here. Dante's got his hands full right now. Siddiq's leaving and a stomach bug is going around, apparently," Ian said, taking another sip of his water.
"A'right," Rosie murmured, opening the freezer. She stared at the contents. There was practically nothing. So, she turned back to Ian and told him, "There's practically nothin'."
"That sucks," Ian said, unsure of what else to say. There wasn't really any other solution, but neither of them really wanted to go see Dante. They both found him a bit annoying. Or maybe a little more than just a bit annoying. "Wanna... play a card game?" Ian suggested. He didn't want to stop hanging out with Rosie just yet. If he stopped now, who knew when she'd want to hang out again?
"Sure, I guess. We could ask Lydia to play, too. Where is she?" Rosie asked, suddenly realizing that she hadn't seen Lydia all morning. Usually, Lydia would say good morning to her each morning. It made the butterflies in Rosie's stomach act up every time, but she didn't mind.
"I don't know. I saw her leave earlier," Ian said, shrugging his shoulders.
Instantly, Rosie's eyebrows furrowed. "What d'you mean leave? Leave the house or leave Alexandria?" she asked.
"The house," Ian said, as if it were obvious.
"Ya can't just say she left. That's got me thinkin' she left for good or somethin'," Rosie huffed, rolling her eyes and walking past Ian. Now she had to go and find Lydia.
"You have abandonment issues. Know that?" Ian murmured, following behind her.
"No, I don't," Rosie argued.
"Yes, you do. Just because Negan left doesn't mean everyone's gonna-"
With a completely shocked and confused look on her face, Rosie turned to face Ian again. She couldn't believe he just said that. "And where's Maggie?" Rosie asked him, raising her eyebrows. To that, they both started laughing. Of course, they missed Maggie loads, but they could still make light out of it. It made missing her a bit easier. It made all things a bit easier, being able to joke about it.
That was the good thing about Ian. If anyone else had said that to her, Rosie might've just punched them silly. But with Ian, that was different. It was good to have a friend like him. Or just to have a friend at all. When Rosie was younger, she didn't really have any friends. She didn't get to experience any of this. But now she had Ian and she had a whole family of people. That was something to be grateful for. Even after all of the bad things happened, Rosie still had people. She still had family. Sometimes she could forget that.
"Let's find Lydia," Ian said, holding the front door open for them both.
"Let's find her," Rosie agreed, nodding her head. When they got outside, though, they saw Daryl coming up the steps from Negan's cell. "Daryl," Rosie called to him. He looked up at the sound of her voice. "You seen Lydia?"
Daryl sighed and looked back at Negan's cell. "She's in there. Leave her alone for a lil' while. She needs some time to herself," he answered. Rosie nodded in understanding. As Daryl looked up at Rosie and Ian on the front steps, his eyes latched on to the words that were still spray-painted on to their front door. "Hey, clean that up, will ya?" he asked the two kids, pointing to the door behind them.
Both Ian and Rosie turned around to look at what he was pointing at. Rosie had forgotten about it. People were spray painting that stuff all over. SILENCE THE WHISPERERS. It was everywhere. But it hurt Lydia to have in on their front door, so Ian and Rosie nodded, accepting the task of cleaning it up without hesitation.
"I'll be back tomorrow," Daryl told Rosie.
Rosie nodded. "Bye. Love you," she said. Sometimes, if she thought about it too hard, it was still weird to say that to anyone. Because nine-year-old Rosie would not have said that to a single soul.
And sometimes, Daryl felt the same way. But, of course, he always responded with, "Love you, too, Rose." Rosie and Ian both waved as he hopped on his bike.
"Bye, Mr. Dixon!" Ian called out to him.
Both Rosie and Daryl cringed at that. Rosie elbowed Ian's side. "Don't call him Mr. Dixon. That's weird," she murmured.
"I'm respecting him. Maybe he'll like me, then," Ian defended himself.
"Callin' him Mr. Dixon ain't gonna make him like you any more. Trust me," Rosie responded, shaking her head.
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Had bad writers block while writing this so idk if it's good