Daryl pushed open the door to Negan's cell with a creek. Negan was lying on his back in his cot, rubbing his forehead in an attempt to get rid of his stress headache. He didn't have to look up to know that it was Daryl who had entered his cell.

"How's Lydia doing?" Negan asked as Daryl stepped closer to the bars.

"She's banged up, but she'll be a'right," Daryl answered. Negan sighed and let his hand drop back down to the cot. Daryl grabbed onto the bars, leaning up against them. "Y'know, the people out there are talkin' 'bout puttin' you down. Sayin' Rick ain't around to save you no more. Maybe they shoulda' done it a long time ago," Daryl said.

Negan sighed, sitting himself up in his cot. "If you came here lookin' for a confession... just keep walkin'. It was an accident. And, for the record, screw her. She was a goddamn asshole beatin' on a kid. World's better off," he said. Daryl glared at him from the other side of the bars, waiting to see where this was going. "But you already know that, don't you? You came down here to look me in the eye because you don't know what to do with me," Negan said with a chuckle.

Truth was, though, Daryl went down there because he wanted to know what the hell Rosie was doing with Negan beforehand. He had just told her to stay away from the man earlier that day. And it was so goddamn frustrating. What was she telling Negan that she didn't feel like she could tell Daryl? Why was she going to Negan instead of him?

"Shit, all that time you spent fantasizing about my death, all that time you actually tried to kill me, and now look at ya. You're not so sure," Negan said with a humorous quality to his voice.

Working his jaw, Daryl leaned even closer into the bars. He glared at the man across from him, gripping the metal so tight it turned his fingers white. "You listen to me real close. You and I ain't never been in a room before, not toe to toe. And there ain't nobody to save you right now," Daryl threatened.

"You kill me, then you better learn to keep a closer eye on Banks. You've been doing a pretty shit job at that lately, seeing as she keeps crawling back to me for help," Negan taunted, returning Daryl's sharp glare.

Daryl inhaled sharply, a twinge of pain hitting his chest for just a moment. "Hell she been talkin' to you 'bout, anyway?" he growled.

"Well, damn, Daryl. You wanna take Lydia under your wing, meanwhile, you don't even know what's going on with the kid you like to pretend is your daughter?" Negan chuckled humorlessly. Daryl gnawed on the inside of his cheek. "What do you want me to do, Daryl? I mean, the people out there are out for blood. Guys like you and me; we can smell that from a mile away."

"What was she down here, talkin' to you for?" Daryl asked, not yet ready to move on from the subject.

Negan wasn't sure whether to give up that information or not. On one hand, he felt like he should tell Daryl for Rosie's own safety. But on the other hand, would telling Daryl that betray the trust that Negan had been working so hard to build back up?

"She was cryin'. Why?" Daryl asked, growing impatient. He could always tell when Rosie had been crying, even if she tried to hide it. If her watery, red eyes didn't give it up, her unusual quietness always did.

It was a hard choice to make, but Negan figured it was better to be safe than sorry. "She misses her brother. I'm the only person she's got left who remembers him," he answered honestly. Daryl was quiet for a moment, thinking it through, and somewhat understanding. "She was asking me if I wanted to die when I first got locked up. Asking if it was because I missed my wife," Negan added.

His stomach churning, Daryl looked down at the ground for a moment. "What're you tryna' say? You think she's... thinkin' 'bout that?" he eventually asked.

"I'm saying you oughta keep a closer eye on her, Daryl. She's tough, but she's been through hell and back, and she's struggling," Negan told him.

Daryl just nodded, thinking for a moment. He wanted to know why Rosie wouldn't talk to him, but she would talk to Negan. The question had been nagging at the back of his brain and he wasn't sure how much longer he could go without just straight up asking her. He was there for her and she knew that. She always knew that. So why wasn't she going to him? What could he have been doing wrong?

He sighed, blinking back those thoughts. There were other things to focus on, too. Rosie wasn't the only thing in the whole universe that mattered, even if sometimes it felt like she was.

"What about Lydia? Why help her? You ain't no hero," he asked, letting his hands drop down from the bars.

"No. No, I'm not. I'm a sucker. See, I started believing in your way of life- your moral code. Hell, you even gave me a little taste of freedom, just so you could yank it away when I actually did the right thing. You gotta admit, that is pretty messed up. And we both know I appreciate some messed-up shit," Negan said, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"You're gonna get your chance to tell your side," was all Daryl said before leaving the cell and heading back outside. He started heading back to the house to check and see if Rosie was still up, and maybe even talk to her if she was. But seeing Carol on the front steps stopped him. She'd been struggling lately, too. "Hey," Daryl greeted.

"Hey," Carol said, giving him an obviously fake smile.

"How you feelin'?" Daryl asked her.

Carol shrugged a little. "Just sore," she murmured.

"I bet," Daryl replied, nodding his head.

"I heard what happened," Carol told him.

For a moment, Daryl didn't say anything. He didn't really want to talk about it anymore, but since it was Carol, he didn't mind so much. "Yeah. It's a mess," he muttered, sitting on the stairsteps beside her.

"Everybody's talking about Negan again. It's like time never moved," Carol said. Daryl nodded and they both sighed. Carol turned to look at him before asking, "What do you think?"

Daryl let out a quiet huff before answering. "I'on give a shit about him. But Ro... she does. No matter how hard I try and get her to stop," he explained, rubbing his eyes. Carol stayed silent, which encouraged him to keep going. "Pisses me off. He's the last thing linkin' her back to how shit was before- linkin' her back to David. But he's also the last thing linkin' her back to her brother, and she can't let that go. She still thinks Negan can be good."

"Like I said. It's like time never moved," Carol said with a sigh.

Daryl nodded, thinking back to when Rosie returned to Hilltop from the Sanctuary all those years ago. She was so set on the belief that Negan could be good again. He thought she grew out of it when they were out in the woods, but just as he expected, returning to Alexandria brought back all of those beliefs. That was exactly why he didn't want Rosie around Negan. She wanted him to be good so badly that she would ignore all of the bad he had done.

"This is a distraction," Carol said, breaking their short moment of silence. Crickets chirped around them. "Hilltop's got a tree through its walls. Alexandria was attacked-"

"Well, we don't know that yet," Daryl corrected, glancing over at her. But he knew what Carol believed. She could only see every bad thing as a product of what Alpha had done. He couldn't blame her for that. Henry was her son. Daryl couldn't imagine losing Rosie, especially in such a brutal way.

"Our real enemy is out there," Carol muttered, staring straight forward.

"There's enough bad stuff happenin' here," Daryl said.

And, God, that was an understatement. People were at each other's throats. Some wanted Lydia dead, some wanted Negan dead, Negan killed Margo, and Rosie- his Rosie- wanted to give up. Daryl sighed, looking at his boots.

"I'm afraid if we don't fix it, it ain't gonna matter what she does to us. There won't be anything left," was the last thing Daryl said before standing back up and continuing on inside.

The lights were off, aside from the dim lamp that was lit in the living room. The house was quiet, aside from a light tapping noise. As Daryl passed by the kitchen, on his way up to Rosie's room, he found her sitting at the kitchen table with her head in her arms, bouncing her leg up and down, up and down, up and down.

"Hey," he said quietly, stepping into the kitchen and leaning his hands on the back of the chair across from hers.

Upon hearing Daryl's voice, Rosie sat up instantly. Her eyes were a bit wide, but not with fear. "I'm sorry for what I said," she spoke quickly. She began tapping on the table now, too. "About my- about David. I don't actually think that. I just... wanted to make you feel bad. An' I know that's shitty, but I just... I don' know. I'm sorry," she rambled.

"It's fine. Didn't take it to heart. I do the same shit when I get worked up like that," Daryl responded, nodding his head in understanding.

Rosie let out a quiet sigh of relief. She was glad she hadn't hurt his feelings or made him feel like she actually resented him for that. Because she absolutely, 100% did not blame him for any of it.

Letting out a sigh, Daryl pulled out the chair he was leaning up against and sat down on it. He wasn't sure out to bring it up. But he knew he really wanted to. It was better to just be straight with her, usually, so that's what he did.

"Talked to Negan," Daryl said, eyeing Rosie warily. He didn't miss the slight tensing of her muscles upon hearing his words.

There was a painful silence that weighed down on Rosie so hard that she was the one to break it, even though she didn't want to. "'Bout Lydia?" she asked hopefully.

"'Bout you," Daryl told her. Rosie immediately broke eye contact and began chewing on her lip. "I get why ya went to talk to him."

That was a lie. He understood why she went to ask Negan about Fraser, sure. Negan was the only one left who actually knew Fraser. What Daryl failed to understand was why Rosie wasn't going to him for help. She always went to him. Or, at least she used to. So what was he doing wrong? It tore him apart inside, not knowing. Why didn't she think he'd be there for her, too?

"I don't feel like talkin' 'bout that," Rosie blurted out, her tone tense and her tapping getting faster and faster with her growing anxiety.

"Well, Rose," Daryl sort of scoffed, "ya gotta. It ain't somethin' you can just ignore."

Rosie remained silent, staring blankly at the kitchen table.

"I mean, you're tellin' me you're fine and then you're goin' down there and tellin' him what you told him. You can't be dealin' with that shit on your own, Rosie," Daryl said, trying to use his tone to express that he was serious about this. Unfortunately, to Rosie, it only made him sound angry.

"I'm sorry, ok? I jus' don't need everyone worryin' 'bout me," Rosie tried to defend herself.

"I'm not-" Daryl paused and took a breath, lowering his voice and making it sound calmer, gentler, "I'm not mad. All I want is for you to tell me when that shit's goin' through your head. I wanna help, but you ain't lettin' me."

"Jesus," Rosie muttered to herself, rubbing her face. Then she dropped her hands back down onto the table and finally made eye contact again. "What d'you wanna know, then?" she asked, clearly a bit annoyed.

Daryl wanted to tell her to calm down, he wasn't angry, and she didn't need to be so tense. But he didn't. "Wanna start with how you been sleepin'? 'Cause, lookin' at your face, it doesn't seem like you've been gettin' any sleep at all, despite you bein' in bed all day long."

Almost immediately upon saying it, Daryl wished he could take it back and ask in a nicer, gentler way.

"Well, nightmares ain't gettin' any better, if that's what you're askin'," Rosie scoffed, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

"Nightmares 'bout what?"

Again, Rosie scoffed. "I'll give ya ten guesses," she spat.

"Rosie," Daryl scolded exhaustedly, leaning back in his chair, too.

Thinking over what she just said, Rosie thought that maybe it was a bit insensitive, so she took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. "'Bout everythin'," she answered truthfully and more calmly. "David, the Governor, the... those guys I ran into after the, uh- after the prison," she continued, tugging on her sleeves, "Sometimes Terminus. Sometimes... what... what Negan did. And Alpha. Every night, Alpha."

Quite honestly, Daryl didn't even know how to respond. There were just so many things she was still struggling with. He knew those would be things that stuck with her. Hell, he sometimes had nightmares about them himself. But it was just so much and he didn't know how to make any of it stop.

"I could talk to Siddiq. See if he's got any meds you could take. Melatonin, Sonata. Might have somethin'. Might even be able to make somethin'," Daryl tried to come up with solutions. By the looks of it, though, Rosie wasn't listening. She was staring at the table again. "Aye," he said, tapping the table in front of her.

Her eyes lifted to meet his. "You're gonna be mad at me for changin' the subject, but can I tell you somethin'?" she asked, seemingly out of the blue. Truth was, though, that she had been trying to think of something to change the subject with.

Daryl huffed before giving in. "Sure," he sighed.

"Lydia was holdin' my hand tonight. You see that?" Rosie asked, raising her eyebrows and putting on a facade of happiness. Daryl groaned in complaint and rubbed his face. "And I didn't even grab her hand. She grabbed mine."

"Ro, you c-"

"Deny it all ya want, Daryl, but I think she might like me back someday," Rosie said.

"Ro, we been over this," Daryl said exhaustedly.

"What, you want me to keep goin' after Connie instead?" Rosie joked, putting on an amused expression.

Immediately, Daryl's face scrunched up. "Hell no," he said.

"'Cause you like 'er. Don't you?" Rosie asked, raising her eyebrows in hopes of encouraging him to answer with a yes.

"It ain't like that," Daryl said, rolling his eyes.

Rosie now knew that she had succeeded in changing the subject and postponing that horrible, stressful conversation. "If you date her, then I'll finally be able to meet your girlfriend, since you ain't ever let me meet Leah," Rosie reminded him.

"What I tell you 'bout bringin' her up?" Daryl asked, clearly annoyed by the topic change.

"Not to," Rosie murmured, picking at her nails. Daryl nodded with an irritated expression on his face. "But you prob'ly didn't even tell her I existed. You didn't, did you?" Rosie accused.

"Didn't trust her enough," Daryl admitted, shrugging his shoulders a little.

"You didn't trust her enough? You kissed her," Rosie said, scrunching up her face to express her disbelief.

"This ain't about her," Daryl said, not liking where the conversation was going. Truth was, he did more than just kiss Leah, and he was sure that Rosie had assumed that, but the last thing he ever wanted to do was talk about that with her. Besides, Rosie had made it very clear that she hated Leah, even though she hadn't even met her. "We're talkin' 'bout you," Daryl reminded her.

This sparked Rosie's anger once again, and she got up out of her seat, her chair screeching on the floor. "Well, I don't fuckin' feel like it no more, so I'mma go and have some more nightmares. This has been so helpful. Thanks," she spat, rushing out of the room.

"Aye," Daryl said, getting up out of his chair, too. Rosie ignored him, and he kept following behind her. "I'm not done talkin' to you."

"I just told you, I am," Rosie sassed as she reached the stairs.

"Rosie," Daryl said loudly, grabbing her wrist to stop her. He couldn't just let it go. Let her go. This needed to be fixed. He couldn't lose her. It would tear him apart. 

"Negan a'ready told ya all about it!" Rosie shouted, turning back to look at him. She wasn't sure if she'd go to Negan about anything again, now knowing that he couldn't keep a secret she needed him to keep.

"He shouldn'ta' had to! You shoulda' come to me, Rosie! I don't get why the hell you keep goin' back to him!" Daryl admitted to her exasperatedly. Rosie bit down on her tongue, stopping herself from saying things she didn't really mean. "I been tryin' so hard to get you to stop hidin' away like you have been, and he ain't done shit, and you keep goin' back to him. I don't fuckin' get it, Rosie. What the hell am I doin' wrong?"

Truth was, he wasn't doing anything wrong. He was there for her like he always was, but Rosie didn't want him to worry about her. She felt like she could deal with it fine on her own. She wasn't a baby anymore. She should have been capable of handling herself.

The hardest part was trying to get the words out of her mouth. Even when she wanted to admit it, it was almost impossible. The words would be on the tip of her tongue, and she'd bail out at the last second.

For some reason, with Negan, that was different. Maybe it was because he'd seen her grieving her big brother at five years old. Maybe it was because, any burden she put on him, he deserved it because of what he did. Maybe it was because she knew he'd been in the same headspace as her before. Maybe it was because he knew Fraser. Maybe it was some combination of those things. Rosie didn't know.

"I don't- I just... I just wanna go to bed," Rosie said, tearing her wrist out of his grasp.

Daryl stared at her for a moment, wishing he could read her mind to see what was going on behind her teary, blue eyes. Rosie hated that concerned stare. She hated it. All she ever did was worry him.

"I'll leave my door open so you know I didn't shoot myself before goin' to bed," Rosie muttered before turning and heading upstairs. 

"That ain't fuckin' funny, Rosie," Daryl called after her. She ignored him. "Rosie!" Still, nothing. Daryl pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself, "God damnit." This had gone nothing like he wanted it to.