Rosie was sitting outside by herself. She sat on the steps that Negan had once led her up, dangling her legs over the side and leaning her arms on the railing. She was out there in the cold, despite the numbness of her toes. And all for what? For a cigarette? God, she felt like a piece of shit. She had almost smoked the whole thing already. She just kept telling herself it's fine, it doesn't matter, at least I gave the rest to Daryl. But deep down, she knew it was wrong.

The door behind Rosie creaked open and she quickly put out the cigarette against the pavement.

"Rosie?" Lydia said, stepping closer to her. Rosie stood up, dropping the cigarette into the snow beneath her feet. Lydia's eyebrows were furrowed. She thought back to when she was in that cell at Hilltop. Daryl had come in and thrown a pack of cigarettes onto the ground before dragging Rosie off to yell at her. The next day, Rosie came down and told her about it. "I thought you said you weren't gonna smoke again," Lydia murmured.

Fuck, was all Rosie was thinking. She didn't think Lydia saw that.

"You said it was bad for your anxiety," Lydia reminded her.

Shoving her hands into her pockets, Rosie huffed out a sigh. "Well, yeah, if I do it a lot. But this is just one. It doesn't matter," she said, avoiding eye contact.

"Uh, ok," Lydia muttered, unsure of what to do. Part of her felt like she should tell Daryl, but the other said that Rosie would hate her guts if she did that. "I was supposed to come out here to get you. Daryl wants to talk to you. We're leaving soon," she said.

"Ok," Rosie said, nodding her head. She held the door open for Lydia before following her inside. Lydia pointed her in the direction of Daryl before heading off towards what was left of the small fires that had been burning to keep them warm. "Lydia said you were lookin' for me," Rosie said once she got to Daryl.

Daryl looked over the girl, taking in her red cheeks and nose. "Were you outside?" he asked her, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Yeah. Couldn't breathe," Rosie said quietly, partially lying. She had gone outside to smoke that cigarette because she was overwhelmed, yes, but she didn't just go outside to breathe. But Rosie had gotten used to lying now. It didn't feel so incredibly difficult anymore. All she ever did was lie.

Whatcha thinkin' 'bout? Daryl would always ask her whenever she went quiet. And almost by reflex, Rosie would come up with some lie. But what she was thinking about was almost always the same. That barn. The screaming. The crying. The blood.

"You good now?" Daryl asked.

He'd been extra concerned about her. He couldn't help it. It was obvious that bad things were going on inside of that brain of hers, but he didn't know how to stop it. When she was little, it was easier. He could go out and find her a new toy, or say something about dinosaurs, or ask her to draw him a picture. But she didn't seem to like anything as much as she used to.

"I'm fine," Rosie said, nodding her head.

"Good. We gotta get goin' here soon," Daryl told her. He didn't like what they were going to have to do, but they didn't really have any other option but to do it. Not unless they all wanted to freeze and get hypothermia. "We're gonna have to cross the lake," he said.

"That's Alpha's land," Rosie murmured, furrowing her eyebrows. Lydia had said that they were talking about cutting through it, but Rosie didn't think they'd actually follow through. Saying Alpha's name made her feel sick. She began staring past him, out the broken windows, and into the snow outside.

"I know. That's why you're gon- hey," Daryl stopped and tapped her arm, "you listenin' to me?"

Rosie nodded, blinking back the thoughts in her head. "I'm listenin'," she said.

"You're gonna stick right by me, a'right? In my site, at all times. Understand me?" Daryl said, his tone stern.

Trying to lighten the mood, Rosie chuckled. "I'm not five. I'll stick with the group. I can follow directions," she joked.

"Yeah, well, if there's one thing you like doin', it's runnin' off," Daryl scoffed.

She'd run off without any warning just about a thousand times and it never failed to freak him out. She nearly gave him a heart attack every day of his life. She wasn't careful enough from his point of view, because nothing seemed more important than her safety. But she wasn't a kid anymore. He couldn't shelter her like he could when she was little. He knew that and he was trying to adjust to it. It just wasn't always the easiest. Especially when Alpha had made it clear that she was a target.

"A'right, let's get goin'," Daryl said, patting Rosie's back.

And so they did. All together, the people from the Kingdom and everyone who chose to help marched out into the blistering cold. Puffy, white snowflakes fell from the sky, coating the ground with a thick layer of snow and ice.

It didn't seem so difficult until they reached the border. Seeing the sticks that marked the divide between their land and Alpha's land, everyone was silent. Silent out of respect, silent out of sorrow. Rosie kept her head down, refusing to look up from the snow. She saw it every day and every night- she didn't need to see it here again. As they passed that spot, Daryl's hand stayed on Rosie's back, keeping her walking, but also keeping her there- keeping her grounded, keeping her present.

They walked and walked until the pikes that split their land from Alpha's- the pikes that haunted Rosie's nightmares- were completely out of sight. They had yet to see any Whisperers. There were, of course, walkers, but they were all frozen in their spots. Without their hearts beating, there was nothing to keep their body temperatures up, so they became ice structures. That is, until Michonne sent her sword through their skulls, shattering them to bits.

Up one more hill, and then they all saw it. The river. It was frozen over completely. It'd be easy to cross.

"There's the river. We made it," Ezekiel announced to everyone. Even just the sound of his voice, which was quieter than usual, made Rosie's heart beat a little faster. She felt like the Whisperers were watching and listening, just waiting to take them. Waiting to kill them.

"I'mma check the ice," Daryl said, leaving Rosie's side for the first time since they had crossed into Alpha's land. Rosie stayed in her place, not leaving Daryl's sight, just as she was told.

"I'm right behind you," Michonne said, following him down to the ice.

Slowly and carefully, the two of them stepped down the rocks before testing the ice. "Yeah. I think we're good," Daryl said, pressing his weight down onto the ice. It stayed strong. It wouldn't crack.

"We have to assume they have eyes on the borders. Make sure the others are ready to go," Ezekiel said to Jerry.

"Done and done," Jerry said, going off to get the rest.

Rosie kept her eyes on the ground, trying not to let her mind wander. That was why she didn't notice when Lydia walked off on her own.

"Hey, where's Lydia?" Daryl asked, turning back to the group.

"I'm gonna go find her. You get everyone across. I'll be right back," Carol said.

Almost immediately, Rosie thought back to earlier that day. Lydia had gone off by herself, and when Rosie went after her, she found her trying to let a walker bite her. And suddenly, Rosie was flooded with guilt. Should she have told Daryl about that? Or at least someone? What if she was doing the same thing now?

"Alright, let's move," Ezekiel said.

"No. Daryl," Rosie turned to look at him, not wanting to run off without telling him, "I'm gonna go help Carol."

"No. She's got it. C'mon," Daryl said, shaking his head.

"But she-" Rosie stopped herself when she noticed a hand sticking out from the snow by Daryl's boot. Her eyes widened. "Hey! Look out!" she shouted, pointing to the arm. And just as soon as she said it, a hand wrapped around her own ankle, making her lose her footing. Rosie instantly pulled out her knife and stuck it into the walker's head. And then from behind her, another walker began crawling its way out of the snow. She killed that one, too, but more and more started to rise from the ground, all around them.

Everyone began to rush across the lake as those who were capable began fighting off the walkers. And although Rosie was terrified, she kept killing the walkers. If the Whisperers hadn't already seen them, they were surely going to know they were there now. Because who else would have killed all these walkers?

"Is it them?" Alden asked, his eyes wide with worry.

"No. Not here. Not in this," Michonne said, shaking her head.

More and more people were ushering each other across the frozen lake, but they couldn't all go at once. It was too dangerous. All of this was too dangerous. Every second they spent out there, they were risking their lives. Risking everyone's lives.

"Get them across. We'll hold 'em back," Ezekiel shouted.

But Rosie couldn't focus on any of that. She was looking around frantically, killing walkers, but also searching for Lydia, Carol, and Daryl. They were all gone. Carol was still searching for Lydia, and now Daryl had disappeared, too. She wasn't supposed to leave his sight. Where did he go?

The winds were getting louder and stronger. She could barely see, let alone hear. "Daryl!" she shouted into the white film of snow that blocked her vision. She spun around in a circle, searching for even just his silhouette. "Daryl! Where- where are you?!" she yelled.

Rosie jumped and practically shrieked when her shoulder was grabbed from behind. She spun around, her knife gripped tightly in her hand, only to see that it was Daryl who had grabbed her shoulder. Lydia and Carol were standing behind him.

"Jesus Christ! You said to stay in your sight. I couldn't find you," Rosie huffed, catching her breath. She was relieved to see all three of them. Especially relieved to see Lydia alive, unharmed.

"I'm here now, ain't I? You're fine. Let's go," Daryl said, pushing her along.

Of course, Rosie did go along with them, because she wanted to get the hell out of the cold and especially out of Alpha's land. But as she was walking, she kept glancing over at Lydia. Her eyes were rimmed with red and so were Carol's. Something had happened. Rosie wanted to know what, but she knew better than to ask now. Their main focus was on getting these people to Hilltop, and then getting themselves back to Alexandria.

•

By the time the group got to Hilltop, the weather had calmed. It was still beyond cold outside, but the snow was no longer falling and the wind wasn't blowing so hard. All was quiet. All but Rosie's mind. She had been walking near the back of the group, avoiding conversation with everybody.

Usually, Rosie wouldn't mind talking to any of these people. She liked them. Some of them even enjoyed listening to her talk about dinosaurs. But right now, it seemed like the only thing anyone ever wanted to ask her was are you ok? It was always, You doing ok? How are you feeling? You sure you're ok? And it made Rosie want to melt into the ground. She wanted to bury herself beneath the dirt, never to be seen again.

Talking about it was the last thing Rosie wanted to do. People would always say that talking about it was the best thing to do, because when you talk about it, you can finally get all those thoughts out of your head. But Rosie couldn't talk about it. Not without crying, not without freezing up and going silent.

The problem was that everyone wanted to know everything about that night. What happened? Where were you? What was Enid like? What was Henry like? What about Addy and Rodney? Tara? Were they scared? Were they crying? Did you try to help them? It was all too overwhelming.

All Rosie could ask herself was why Alpha kept her alive. Why not kill her? She killed every other person in that barn. Why didn't she kill Rosie? She was supposed to die with them, but she didn't. The only reason Rpsie could come up with was that she was leverage. But she hated that. She hated thinking about that. It was stupid. She should've died with them.

Rosie hated thinking about it with every bone in her body, but it seemed to be the only thing she could ever think about. No matter how hard she tried, there was always something that brought her back there. And those awful memories of the barn would only lead her back to awful memories of the Sanctuary, and awful memories of kneeling in the dirt, awful memories of Joe and the other Claimers, awful memories of the Governor, awful memories of David. There seemed to be more bad than there ever was good.

Now, Rosie was trying to make a list of the good things. She was sitting on the steps in Barrington House, listing off the good things in her head. Daryl was a good thing. Ian was good. Lydia was good. Henry was good, too, but now he was dead. God, stop it. Stop it.

"Whatchu' thinkin' 'bout?" Daryl asked as he sat down on the stairs next to Rosie.

"Polar dinosaurs. Dinosaurs that could live in snowy areas," Rosie lied easily.

Daryl sighed, looking over at her. She was looking at her shoes and fidgeting with her necklaces anxiously. "You're lyin'," Daryl said. Rosie stayed quiet. She wasn't sure if there was any point in trying to argue. It was probably very obvious what she was thinking about, especially after everything that had happened that day. "Can I ask you somethin'?" Daryl asked.

"Yeah?" Rosie murmured, twisting her lapis necklace up until it reached her neck, then letting it unwind.

"Without you gettin' all mad?" Daryl asked, raising his eyebrows.

Rosie huffed, finally making eye contact with him for a moment. "Yes," she said, her tone tense.

After examining Rosie's face for just a moment, Daryl reached into his pocket and pulled out the box of cigarettes. Rosie tried not to make it obvious that the sight of the box alone made her anxiety spike. "How many a' these were in here when you found it?" Daryl asked her.

Shrugging, Rosie hummed the I don't know sound. "I didn't count," she said.

"You count everythin'," Daryl said, raising his eyebrows. Rosie went quiet, unsure of what else to say or do. She did count things a lot. Daryl sighed and leaned his elbows on his knees. "I talked to Lydia," he said.

God fucking damnit.

Biting down on her lip, Rosie huffed and looked away. Of fucking course Lydia told him.

"We talked about this already, Rosie," Daryl said, stern, but not yelling.

"You mean you told me I ain't normal?" Rosie asked, frustrated. She didn't want to get yelled at again- not without having something to yell at him for. So she came up with something to be angry at him for.

"Calm down. I'm not yellin' at you, I'm talkin' to you," Daryl said, keeping his voice quiet and calm. Of course, he wanted to yell at her for this. But he knew that wasn't what she needed right now. There was something going on in her head and yelling at her wouldn't do anything to fix that.

"I don't want to talk about this," Rosie spat, standing up to walk away.

Daryl immediately stood up with her, getting in front of her to block her way. "You never wanna, but it always helps. You know it does," he said. Rosie rolled her eyes and stared at the wall behind him. She crossed her arms, keeping her walls up despite the fact that, with Daryl blocking her way, she had nowhere else to go. "It's been months and you ain't gettin' any better on your own," Daryl said quietly. He wanted to have this conversation, but he didn't want to draw the attention of anyone else around them.

"If you're gonna tell me you think I should talk about it, I'mma tell you I think you should go to hell," Rosie spat, still refusing to make any eye contact.

"You don't gotta talk about it if you don't wanna talk about it, but you can't be smokin' cigarettes, Rose. It ain't gonna make you feel any better. I've told you that," Daryl said. He really did think she should have talked to someone about it, but he didn't want to force her.

"It ain't like I'mma do it again. I gave the rest a' the pack to you," Rosie said exasperatedly.

"I know, and I'm proud of you for that, 'cause I know that ain't easy. But then what happens when you find another? It's not like havin' a piece of candy. It's addictive, Rosie," Daryl said.

Rosie didn't know what to say to him. She wanted this conversation to be over as soon as possible. She wanted to forget it ever happened. "I'm not stupid. I know that," she said.

"Just-" Daryl stopped and took a breath. Do not yell at her, do not yell at her, do not yell at her. "Just stop bein' pissy and listen to me for a sec, will ya?" he asked. Rosie didn't say anything, but she did make eye contact with him again- even if it was just a glare. "There's shit goin' on in your head that I can't help you with unless you tell me. It ain't fuckin' easy seein' what you saw, but you're not lettin' anyone help you."

For a few seconds, Rosie was silent. Daryl actually thought that he had gotten through to her. He thought she might actually start talking about it. But no. "There's nothin' goin' on in my head. It's been a shitty day. I'm just tired," Rosie said, her voice firm and tense. "Can I go to bed now?"

Daryl stared at her for a moment, deciding on what to do. He couldn't just force it out of her. He knew that. "Gimme the lighter and you can go," he said.

Almost instantly, Rosie's eyebrows shot up. Daryl held his hand out, waiting for her to place the lighter in it. Trying her best not to explode, Rosie pressed her tongue into her cheek. She shoved her hand into her pocket and pulled out the lighter. Once she dropped the lighter into his palm, she shoved past him without another word.

Even the next morning, Rosie didn't say a word unless she was asked a question, and even then, her answers were simple and boring. When they arrived back at Alexandria, Rosie skipped her greetings and went straight to the house she had once lived in and would live in from then on. She spent the rest of her day with Dog, not bothering to talk to anyone else. At least Dog wouldn't ask her any questions or try to force her to talk about anything she didn't want to talk about.