After Leah and Carver left to question whoever else they had there, Daryl and Liam escorted Rosie back to her cell. Her hands were still shaking non-stop and it made guilt twist and turn its way through Daryl's entire being.

He had terrified her.

No matter what she knew, what she wanted to admit, or how she felt about what had happened, it would leave scars, both on the inside and on the outside. There would be a small scar on the top of Rosie's hand where Daryl had pressed his knife, and there would be a scar left behind from the gash on Rosie's left cheek.

But, deeper than that, there would be a scar in her brain. Sitting there, in that chair, felt no different than being at her old house with a drunk David Banks. That same feeling of dread and fear had encapsulated her.

It took everything in Rosie to forgive Daryl for this. Part of her was heartbroken. He would never hurt me, she had always thought. But there she was, sitting in that cell with blood covering the bottom half of her face. Blood that had poured out of her after Daryl hit her.

He-had-to. He-had-to. He-had-to.

The words drummed along in Rosie's mind with her agonizingly loud heartbeat.

Crouched down next to her, Daryl stared at Rosie: the blood, the bruises, and the terror. Rosie wouldn't look back at him and it struck a pang of pain and worry through Daryl's chest. God, he hoped she would forgive him.

Daryl pulled a black bandana from his pocket. He went to push Rosie's hair away from her face.

She flinched. He shuttered.

Slowly, Daryl tried again. He pushed her hair away from her face, gently pulling away the blonde strands- now stained red- that were stuck to the blood. Next, he brought the cloth up to her face and began to wipe away as much of the blood as he could. He didn't have any water, though, so bits of red stayed. Every time he touched her, she winced, either out of pain or fear, and each time, Daryl's stomach churned. Because he had done that to her.

I'm sorry. He had said it about a thousand times on the way in there. Rosie always responded with a weak I know. Never an I forgive you. Never an It's ok. Every time, it was an I know.

Unless Daryl said something first, Rosie stayed silent. Just like how she used to when she was little. She never spoke unless spoken to. Daryl hated that. He would give everything for her to just tell him something. Something he had probably heard her say before would even do. Something about dinosaurs, or planets, or constellations. Something she read out of a book, or maybe something she heard from Eugene. Still, Rosie remained silent.

Once Daryl was sure he had wiped away as much of the blood as he could without water, he shoved the bandana back into his pocket. Then, he sat back against the wall, right next to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, kissing the top of her head as he did so. He held her there, wondering how much hatred was brewing inside of her.

"You have to tie me up again," Rosie's voice mumbled, weak and fragile.

Daryl's eyebrows furrowed. He sat up, turning his head to see her face. She didn't look sad or mad or anything like that. She looked blank. Empty. Numb. Just like she did at the Atlanta camp. Just like she did with David.

"What?"

"You gotta tie me up again," Rosie reminded him.

"Rose..."

"You a'ready did everythin' else." Everything else was code for hurting her. "You can't just quit now 'cause ya don't wanna tie me up. So tie me up," Rosie demanded.

Looking outside the cell, Daryl made eye contact with Liam, who was standing back against the opposite wall. Daryl nodded, so Liam grabbed the ropes again. He brought them into the cell and, together, he and Daryl used them to tie up Rosie's wrists and ankles.

When they were done, Daryl pressed another kiss to Rosie's head. Usually, Rosie wouldn't mind it at all. But, at that point, it just made her want to cry. It made a ball form in her throat, either out of anger or sadness- she couldn't quite tell the difference this time.

"Rose," Daryl said, getting her to look up from her lap just one more time. He ran his thumb over her cheek, wiping away a tear Rosie had accidentally let slip from her eye. "I love you. And I'm sorry," Daryl told her.

Pressing her lips together to try and remain strong, Rosie nodded her head. "Love you, too," she rasped.

Still, no It's ok. No I forgive you.

So Daryl let her be and left the cell. Liam locked it back up again and he and Daryl left into the hallway. As soon as the door clicked shut, Daryl turned to Liam, trying his best not to blow up on the kid.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me she was here? That either a' them were here," Daryl asked him furiously.

"She asked me not to," Liam said, rather calmly.

"Yeah? And since when are the two of you buddies?" was Daryl's next question. The last time he had seen them in the same room together, Liam had destroyed one of Rosie's most important things, and Rosie had left him with a bloody nose.

"Since we're covering for each other. We have it figured out, Daryl. It's not your business," Liam said. He didn't mean to sound rude, but when you're young and you tell an older person that something isn't their business, you're bound to sound disrespectful.

"Like hell, it ain't! She's my fuckin' kid," Daryl argued. He wanted to scream at Liam for keeping that secret, but he knew that would only cause more problems for them all to deal with.

"She's not a kid. She's 18 now, isn't she?"

"No. She's 17 'til the spring. She's still a fuckin' kid," Daryl told him.

He was so sick of everyone acting like the kids were adults. They weren't. They weren't meant to fight. They weren't meant for any of this. Hell, they were supposed to be in high school, worrying about homework and what they were going to get for lunch. They weren't meant for this.

Rosie didn't turn 18 until April 10th, and sure, Daryl didn't know what day it was, but he knew April was in the spring, so he decided then and there that he was never making this mistake again. Rosie couldn't make her own choices until she was an adult. She just wasn't careful enough. He didn't care if Rosie hated him for it. She wouldn't be going on runs, or fighting in wars, or anything remotely like that. She would be staying back where it was safe. He couldn't stand to lose her and he wasn't taking that chance ever again.

"You wanna wise your ass up and start explainin' what the hell's goin' on between the three a' you?" Daryl asked, a stern look on his face.

Liam stared back at him blankly for a moment. He could tell Daryl, he was sure. So, he explained the whole thing to him. How he found Rosie and Ian out in the woods, how he made a deal with them to keep each other's secrets, and how he'd been trying to help them ever since they got there.

All Daryl could focus on, though, was that Liam brought them there. He wasn't one for hurting kids, but he had never wanted to choke one out more.

"Why the fuck would you bring them here?" Daryl growled out. God, it took everything in him not to scream at the boy.

"If I would've left them out there, the others would have found them and killed them. I saved their lives, so you can stop acting like I killed them," Liam snapped at him, his voice a harsh whisper.

"Daryl." Another voice down the hall caught their attention. Liam and Daryl turned to see Leah down the hall with Carver. "We got a location. We're going to scout it out. Pope wants you with us," Leah explained from down the hall.

Daryl nodded at her. "Yeah. Be there in a minute," he said. God, he really hoped they didn't have a real location.

Leah nodded and left with Carver to go get their weapons. As soon as they were gone, Daryl looked at Liam once again.

"When I'm gone, you're gettin' them outta here. I come back here and they're still locked up in those cells, you'll regret it," Daryl warned him, his voice low and threatening.

Liam tried his best not to let it show that he was as intimidated as he was. He stared blankly back at Daryl and swallowed. "I can't promise that," he told him monotonously.

"You better pray you can." With that, Daryl walked off in the direction Leah and Carver had left in.

•

The room with the cells was silent for a long time, aside from the sound of Rosie's crying. Ian listened to it from across the room, trying to pretend like he couldn't hear it. He knew Rosie probably didn't want him to know that she was crying. But, the longer it went on, the more worried he got. He wished they weren't locked in cells. He wished he could sit next to her and try to cheer her up. But no.

"Rosie," Ian eventually gave in to his temptations and called out. His voice was weak and tired, too.

"Hmm?" Rosie hummed quietly in response.

It was so quiet that Ian could hardly hear it, but he could. "We're gonna get out of here, y'know. We'll get out and go home, and everything will be fine," he said. He wasn't sure if it was true, or if saying it would do any good, but it was all he could think to say to try and comfort her. The thought of going home was the only thing keeping him from breaking down himself.

"I know," Rosie whispered. She meant to speak louder, but she didn't really have the energy.

Ian sighed. He didn't know what else to say. He didn't know what happened to her or how bad it was. He knew that he had been hearing her crying for far too long and that, earlier, Daryl was in there apologizing profusely. Originally, Ian had thought Daryl was only apologizing because she was involved in this situation, but now he was starting to wonder if it was something more.

"What happened?" he eventually asked. He wished he could see her face, just to know whether his questions were doing good or bad, but from where their cells were, they couldn't see each other at all.

Really, Rosie didn't feel much like talking about it, but she knew Ian was only trying to help, so she did her best to explain it to him. "They made... they made Daryl do it," she mumbled out. It wasn't much, but she didn't want to say the truth out loud.

"Do what?"

The silence was answer enough. After a minute of thinking about it, Ian figured it out. Daryl had hurt Rosie in the same way Carver had hurt Ian.

"He hit-?"

"Don't say it." Rosie interrupted Ian's question almost instinctively. She didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to think about it; Ian asking the same question about Daryl that kids on Rosie's old baseball team would ask her about David. "I don't wanna hear it," she whispered.

"Well, he didn't want to. You know that, Rosie," Ian tried to reason. Really, though, he understood how much it must have been hurting her. He just wanted to make it better, only he didn't know how.

"I know, but... he did it," Rosie sighed, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. She needed to stop crying. It was only making her face hurt even worse.

Suddenly, the door to the cell room swung open with a creak. Rosie's head shot over to the doorway, her heart racing in her chest. Was it someone else, or was it Daryl again? Were they going to do it again? Would she bleed even more?

But in walked Liam, rushed and nervous. He had a stuffed backpack over his shoulders and a mask in each of his hands. His eyes were wide with anxiety, but he kept going, anyway. He closed the door behind him and dropped the backpack onto the ground, placing the masks next to it.

Rosie and Ian watched him with confusion, their eyes lingering over the masks on the ground. They were like the masks that the people there wore. What did Liam bring them in there for?

Liam pulled black clothing out of the backpack. The clothes were the same that the people there wore.

What was his plan?

He tossed a pair of pants and a shirt through the bars of Rosie's cell and slid the mask through the bars as well. After that, he untied the knots on the ropes around her wrists and ankles. Then, he did the same for Ian.

"Put that on," Liam told the both of them.

"What?" Ian asked, confused.

"Just do what I fucking said and put it on. You wanna get out of here or not?" Liam asked quickly.

"What's the plan, dude? They'll know it was you," Ian said, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Not if they see me somewhere else right now. I'll be right back. I'm gonna go talk to someone, get an alibi. I'll come back, take your old clothes, and fuckin' burn 'em or something. You'll wear what I gave you and go out the back entrance. I doubt there'll be anyone there right now. Pope sent out most of us to scout out that house."

"Why didn't he send you out, too?" Rosie asked. Why would Pope send almost everyone but Liam?

"He wanted me to get more out of the other guy," Liam murmured uncomfortably. Only then did Rosie notice the blood on his knuckles. She tried to ignore it. "Just do what I said. I'll be right back."

With that, Liam left the room to go talk to one of the others who didn't go out scouting.

"You think he's lying?" Ian asked after Liam left.

"Not really," Rosie said.

The two of them changed out of their normal clothes and into the clothes the Reapers usually wore. Rosie wasn't about to let Liam burn Fraser's leather jacket, especially after what he did to the hoodie, so she put that on over the clothes and hoped that no one would notice or care. It blended in fine. Everything was plain black, anyway.

Liam returned about five minutes later. He shoved Rosie and Ian's old clothes into the backpack and unlocked their cells.

When Rosie first saw Ian, his face still covered in blood, her gut churned. She felt like crying again.

Ian could see the traces of blood left on Rosie's face, too, and it only made him more nervous about this whole escape plan.

"How the hell do you expect us to get out of here? We don't know where we're going," Ian asked, anxious about the whole thing. He couldn't help but worry about what would happen if they got caught doing this. Would they kill him and Rosie, or would they kill Liam? Maybe they would keep them all alive and beat them senseless. Either way, it wouldn't end well.

"You go out the door, to the left, down the hall, go out the last door on the left and you're outside. It's a straight shot to the back gate. Go as quick as you can and try not to let anyone see you," Liam explained extremely quickly.

"What if they do see us?" Ian asked, his eyebrows raised with concern.

"Then lie," Liam grumbled. He was sick of all of their questions. They just needed to go before he got caught helping them. Daryl said they needed to be gone when he got back, so gone, they would be.

He knew it was a dangerous idea, but he tried reminding himself that if his mom was put in this situation, she'd do the same thing. She would help them as best she could, even if it meant putting herself in danger. She was brave and she was strong, and Liam would be, too.

"This is a bad idea," Ian murmured.

"It's the only idea, right now, so let's go," Rosie said. Usually, she was the more nervous one, but in this situation, she just wanted to get the hell out of there. She wanted to go as far away from there as she could go. Hopefully, the further she went, the less she would have to think about it.

"Ok. Go, now," Liam urged.

"Thank you," Rosie said, turning to look at him. This was the last thing she expected out of him when she recognized his voice in the woods. Really, she expected him to kill her. But a lot can change in six years.

Liam nodded. "My mom would've done it, so," he murmured, shrugging his shoulders. He opened up the door, peeked out into the hallway, and once he saw that it was clear, he ushered them out into the hall. "Go. Left, left, straight shot. Alright?" he reminded them.

"Yeah. Got it," Rosie nodded. She and Ian pulled their masks on over their faces and began walking down the hall.

Not too fast, not too slow. Not too nervous, but not too confident. Naturally. God, it was really hard to walk naturally.

When they were about to reach the door on the left, someone opened it up. Ian froze, but Rosie jabbed her elbow into his side, urging him to keep walking. They had to act like they belonged there. They hadn't been caught; they'd only been seen.

The other person walked past them without sparing them a glance.

They continued on, heading out the door. They could see the back gate already. Liam was telling the truth.

As adrenaline pumped through their veins, the two walked as quickly as they could to the back gate.

Ten feet away. Nine feet. Eight feet. Seven. Six...

A loud popping sound echoed in the quiet air. A bullet whizzed past Ian's head, missing it by an inch. Both kids could hardly breathe. They were terrified. 

Five. Four.

Another shot was fired, this one grazing Ian's left arm. He stumbled on his feet, his hand shooting up to cover the wound. He kept running. Rosie grabbed onto his hand, pulling him along with her.

Three feet.

Two feet.

Another shot.

This one went straight through Ian's shoulder.

One foot.

"Come on!" Rosie shouted, pulling a crying Ian through the back gate.