Rosie is in a city bus seat. She looks around but no one else is there. There isn't even a driver at the front, but the bus is moving along empty streets. The sun is hot and golden, beating down on her face through the glass panes of the window beside her. It's nice. It's gentle and warm, and it's safe.
Although Rosie doesn't know where she is or how she got here, but she feels safe. She isn't afraid of what she doesn't know. She feels content. Happy.
For a little while, Rosie simply lays her head against the window, watching the world flying by. It doesn't hurt like it would have on the bus when she was little. There are no bumps. The ride is smooth.
After a long time of riding in the bus, it finally comes to a stop at a street corner. The doors swing open by themselves. Hesitantly, Rosie gets up out of her seat. She's dressed in a gray shirt, black pants, and Fraser's jacket. Her Converse-clad feet inch down the stairsteps until they hit the pavement.
When she turns, she sees that the bus is now gone completely. Weird.
Turning even more, Rosie peers into empty shop windows until she sees the beach across the road. Furrowing her eyebrows with confusion, she looks both ways before crossing the street. There are no cars, but she figures she's better safe than sorry.
The moment she steps onto the sand, her shoes are suddenly gone. She looks down at her feet and sees now that her pants have turned to shorts and her shirt has turned to a tank top. She looks back up, and she sees someone on the beach. She's not alone there, anymore.
At first, she doesn't recognize him. She doesn't recognize the beach that she's on, either. But as she nears the person, standing at the edge of the sea, letting the waves wash over their feet, she begins to realize where she is. She's at Virginia Beach. And that head of blonde, sandy hair is her brother.
"Fraser," she calls out into the silence.
His head turns first, then his whole body. His eyes widen and water as Rosie comes near him.
She's not supposed to be here.
But when she runs up to him, he can't help but hold her in a tight embrace. She's still shorter than him, but she isn't nearly as tiny as she was the last time he was able to hug her. He used to be able to pick her up like a baby doll, she was so small. But now she is all grown up.
"You're- you're s'posed to be with them," Fraser says in a raspy voice, pulling away from Rosie and keeping his hands on her shoulders.
"Them?" Rosie asks. Them who? David? He can't mean David, can he?
"Daryl, Maggie, Coach Smith," Fraser lists off, his eyebrows pinched together. "Ian, Lydia, Judith. Your family."
Rosie can't believe what she's hearing. How is it possible that Fraser knows them? "How do you...?" she asks.
"Been watchin' over you, Rosie. You found 'em. The kind a' people I wanted ya to find. You're s'posed to be with 'em," Fraser explains, twisting the ends of her hair between his fingers anxiously.
"We can see? That they're ok?" Rosie asks, her eyes full of hope.
"In a way, we can. When they need us to. Probably not how you'd think, though," Fraser says, nodding his head. "I tried makin' your nightmares go away, but it didn't always work," he tells her. His eyes are darting all over her face. It's soft and fresh, like a baby's would be. There are no scars, cuts, or bruises anymore. But there are tiny little freckles dusted across her nose. He meets her eyes once again. "But you're s'posed to be with 'em," he says.
"I missed you," Rosie says, changing the subject. She doesn't want to talk about what happened or why she isn't with them anymore. She can't go back, anyway. She's here now. She's with him.
"I missed you, too," Fraser says, putting his hand on the back of her head and pressing his forehead against hers. "You're- you're so old," he jokes.
"I'm older than you," Rosie says, a sad smile on her face.
"Not really," Fraser says, shaking his head. Maybe he hadn't grown older, but he was still born before her, whether or not he lived as long. "I'm twenty-eight. You're only eighteen."
Rosie's eyes narrow. "I ain't eighteen. I'm seventeen," she corrects. Fraser gives her a look that has some sort of meaning to it, and Rosie realizes it instantly. Her eyes widen and her face lightens a little, but also grows sadder. "It's my birthday," she says, a small frown on her face.
"Yeah," Fraser whispers. Rosie closes her eyes, trying to pretend that that doesn't hurt her heart. Fraser can tell, though. He pulls her in for another hug, rubbing a hand up and down her upper back. "Hey, y'know you're like clay?" he says out of nowhere, hoping to cheer her up again.
Rosie lets out a giggle. "What?" she asks, confused.
"You stopped soundin' so much like Dad just a couple a' months after bein' with Daryl. You talk like Daryl now," Fraser says, an amused smile on his face.
"Do not," Rosie argues.
"Do too," Fraser says. He sits in the sand and Rosie does the same. They face the water, watching the waves rise and fall. "He did good, takin' care of ya," he tells Rosie.
"I know. I'll miss him."
"He'll miss you more," Fraser promises her. And she knows it's true. She missed Fraser more than anyone in the world, and she had to miss him for a whole thirteen years. "He loves you more than worms love dirt," Fraser tells Rosie.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"I love him, too," Rosie says.
"I know. It's sad, but it's happy, too. It's ok."
It's quiet for another moment until another thought pops into Rosie's head. "What about other people? Can we- can we see 'em? Other people who're gone?" Rosie asks next.
"Yeah. You wanna meet our momma?" Fraser asks, raising his eyebrows.
Rosie's eyes lighten. "We can? She's here?"
"Yeah. Just gotta find her," Fraser says.
"I wanna meet her. And you can meet Carl and Rick and-"
"Rick ain't here."
"What? What d'you mean?" Rosie asks, her eyebrows furrowed with confusion. Rick died. She saw him die. But, then again, she nor Daryl ever found his body.
"Rick ain't dead," Fraser tells her. But how could he know?
"How d'you know?" Rosie asks.
"I've met 'em all 'cept for him. He ain't here, Rose," Fraser explains.
"You met Carl? And Glenn?"
"Mhm."
"What about Sophia? Or T-Dog or Dale?"
"Met 'em all. They're all sweet. You found good people."
"So everyone's here?"
"If they loved you and you loved them, then yeah. They're here, Rosie," Fraser tells her.
"So I'll see Daryl again?" Rosie asks, a pure, heartbreaking look of hope in her eyes.
"Yeah. Someday," Fraser says, putting his hand on top of hers. Rosie leaned against his side. "You can still be there for him- all your friends, too- whenever they need ya too. They won't know it, but you will."
Rosie feels better knowing that she can watch over the people she loves, making sure they're ok. This isn't as bad and scary as she thought it would be. It's actually quite nice. Peaceful. There's nothing she has to do or look out for. There are no walkers roaming around. Everything is quiet. Like how things were in the woods with Daryl.
"Daryl lets me be called Dixon," Rosie suddenly says, looking over at her brother. He doesn't quite understand, at first, raising his eyebrows with intrigue. Of course, he already knows Rosie has been going by Dixon rather than Banks for years. And he's always been grateful for that, knowing that it makes things easier for her. "Daryl wouldn't mind you bein' called Dixon, either. I told him about you all the time. He'll like you when he meets ya. D'you wanna be Fraser Dixon?"
A soft smile graces Fraser's face. "Yeah. Sure. Sounds way cooler than Banks, anyway," he says, ruffling Rosie's hair.
"Cool," Rosie says, smiling in return. She looks back at the glistening water ahead of them. "When can I see everybody?" she asks.
"Let's just stay here for a little while," Fraser says, leaning back on his hands. "I missed you. Missed bein' here with you."
"I missed bein' here with you, too," Rosie tells him.
Fraser wraps an arm around Rosie's shoulder. They sit and watch as the sun sets. But the longer they sit, the more the knowledge of death sinks in for Rosie. She thinks about Daryl, Ian, Lydia, Maggie, Negan, Judith, Carol, and all of the other people she left behind in the real world. It brings a lump to her throat and, eventually, she just has to let those tears shed. So Fraser squeezes her tight as tears stream down her face. He understands. He had cried for her, too, when he passed. It's all that you can do, knowing you can't go back down to Earth and hug the people you love again. But now they have each other again, and that's ok. They'll all be together again someday, and everything will be ok.
She loves them all. More than worms love dirt.
The sun sets and the stars shine.
Rosie doesn't have to be afraid anymore.