"Rosie," Carl said, jogging to catch up to the girl. Her eyebrows were furrowed, clearly still frustrated about the whole Randall situation. "Rosie, wait."

"What?" Rosie said, stopping and turning to look at him.

"You met Randall?" Carl asked, stopping next to her.

"Yeah."

"Was he nice?"

Rosie thought about it for a moment, looking down at her shoes. "Yeah, but your dad said it was just a trick," she said, shrugging a little.

"It is a trick. My dad's right," Carl said, raising his eyebrows. Rosie just stared at him, feeling annoyed. She really thought Randall wanted to be her friend. Why did they find that so unbelievable? "I'm going to see him. You wanna come?"

"What? You're gonna get in trouble," Rosie said quickly, shaking her head with wide eyes.

"You did it," Carl said, shrugging.

"Yeah and Daryl... well, he hates me now. You shouldn't," Rosie said, frowning to herself.

"I'm not gonna say anything. I'm just gonna see him," Carl said. He walked past Rosie and started heading towards the shed. Rosie was hot on his tail.

"Carl, you're gonna get in trouble," she said again.

"Just come with me. We won't get in trouble if we don't get caught," Carl insisted, grabbing onto Rosie's wrist and pulling her along with him.

Rosie sighed, feeling conflicted. She wanted to see Randall again, but she didn't want to get in trouble. Daryl had scared her before and she didn't want to find out what would happen if she got caught doing the same thing again. But Carl was right, they wouldn't get in trouble if they didn't get caught, so she gave in and followed Carl to the shed.

"How'd you get in last time?" Carl whispered, crouching down next to the shed with Rosie. Rosie pointed up at the window. "Ok. I'll go first."

Both kids took their turns climbing up through the window and they crouched down on the loft. Carl scooted himself forward a bit and dangled his legs off the side of the loft, making the wood creak. Rosie stood up behind him, looking down at Randall. His face was very bloody and bruised compared to the last time she saw him.

Did Daryl do that?

Randall looked up at the two, having heard them up above, and he smiled widely at them. Rosie found herself smiling back and waved a little at him. "Hey, Rosie," Randall whispered, "who's that?"

"That's-" Rosie began, but Carl quickly hushed her. Rosie looked down at her shoes, feeling frustrated. She just wished that she knew whether or not Randall actually wanted to be her friend. She never really had any friends in school. The only friends she could think of were Coach Smith and Fraser, but one was her baseball coach and the other was her brother, so did that really count?

"That's a sweet hat," Randall whispered, smiling at Carl. Carl narrowed his eyes at him, not letting his guard down. "I'm Randall. What's your name?" Carl still didn't say anything. "The sheriff guy- that your dad? I like him. Yeah, he's a good guy. I can tell. Your mom out here too? You're- you're lucky you still got your family. I lost mine."

"Me too," Rosie mumbled, frowning. Carl jerked his arm back and hit her on the leg, shushing her again.

"I-I don't know what people been saying about me, but I didn't do nothin'. I swear," Randall insisted, directing his words at Carl. Carl got up and started climbing down the ladder, and Rosie followed after him. "Your dad was gonna let me go till his friend started fightin' with him. It got pretty bad. I- I was kinda worried."

So that's what happened at the school. Shane and Rick fought, Rosie realized, happy that Randall had answered her question without her even having to ask.

"My camp, we got lots of supplies. I- I already told Rosie," Randall said to Carl, nodding his head in Rosie's direction. "You help me, I'll take you and your folks back to my people. We'll take good care of you. Keep you safe. Just gotta- just gotta help me get out of here, ok?"

Carl inched closer to Randall, observing him as if he were some sort of zoo animal. Rosie tried to step closer, but Carl held his hand out in front of her, keeping her behind himself.

"Just help me pick these locks or find the key, ok? Come on, please? Please?"

Suddenly, the door to the shed swung open with a loud bang and Shane came storming in. "What the are you doin' in here?!" Shane asked. He marched over towards Carl and Rosie, pushing them behind him. He turned to Randall. "What'd you say to them? Man, what did you say, huh?!" Shane shouted. He stomped forward, holding Randall against the wall by his neck and pulling his gun out of its holster with his other hand.

"I didn't say nothin'!" Randall insisted, his voice shaking with fear.

"Let me tell you somethin', I will shoot you where you sit," Shane said. He pushed his gun into Randall's chin as Randall squeezed his eyes shut and cowered away from the man. "Open your mouth. Open your mouth! You like talkin', man? You like talkin'?!"

Rosie watched with wide eyes as Shane pushed the gun into Randall's face, her heart beating hard in her chest. "Stop!" she shrieked.

"Shane, back off!" Andrea shouted.

Reluctantly, Shane did back off. He turned to look at Rosie and Carl, who were staring at him with wide eyes. He grabbed them both by the backs of their shirts. "Get your asses out this door. Let's go," he grumbled. When they got out of the shed, he pushed them away from him. "What the hell you doin'?!"

"Please don't tell my parents!" Carl pleaded, backing away from Shane. Rosie stayed still in her spot, her eyes staying locked onto Randall's until Andrea shut the door again.

"Carl, that ain't cool, man. You could've gotten hurt in there," Shane said.

"I can handle myself," Carl argued.

"Yeah, what about Rosie? She thinks that asshole's her friend and you thought to go in there with her? Let me tell you something- you do not go near him again," he pointed a finger in Carl's face, "Do you hear me? Damn it."

"You won't tell my parents, will you?" Carl asked.

"Carl, man, it ain't about gettin' in trouble, ok? A guy like that, he will say anything to you. He'll try to make you feel sorry for him. He'll try to make you let your guard down. You let your guard down out here, people die. Now just- do me a favor, man- go find your ma. Go on."

Carl went off to find his mom, just as Shane said. Rosie tried to slip away with him, trying to go unnoticed, but it didn't work. Shane grabbed onto the fabric of her shirt again, spinning her around.

"Where the hell you think you're goin'?" he spat. Rosie's heart beat hard against her ribcage. "Come on," Shane growled. He began pulling her towards Daryl's tent.

"No! I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Rosie pleaded, her voice up high as she thought about what might happen. The first time she punched Carl, back at the Atlanta camp, he had pulled her over to her dad, just like he was doing now, except now he pulling her to Daryl. Daryl was already so mad earlier, and Rosie was terrified.

"Rick talked to you about this! What the hell were you thinkin', goin' back in there?!" Shane asked, tugging on Rosie as she tried to resist.

"I'm sorry!"

"Doesn't matter if you're sorry if you do the same shit over again," Shane said. They got close enough to Daryl's tent for Rosie to see Daryl out in front of it, doing something with his crossbow. "Daryl!" Shane shouted. Daryl looked over, his expression morphing into an angry one when he caught sight of Rosie. When they reached Daryl, Shane let go of Rosie's shirt and pushed her towards Daryl. "Found her in the shed with Carl," Shane said.

"God damnit, girl! Ya tryna get yer ass killed?!" Daryl shouted, pushing Rosie back a little.

She cowered back and looked at Shane with wide eyes, wondering if he'd do anything, but he just shook his head at her disappointedly and walked away.

"Look at me when I'm talkin' to ya!" Daryl snapped, making Rosie's eyes quickly move back to him. "You pullin' shit like that is not ok! What'd you think was gonna happen, huh?!"

"I- I don't know," Rosie answered, her voice cracking as her eyes started to glaze over with tears.

"Goin' in there is fuckin' stupid, ya know that?!"

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry don't cut it! Listen ta me-"

Daryl reached out towards her to grab onto her shoulder, but as he did Rosie jumped back and shielded her face with her arms. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she shrieked. Daryl stopped, his arm falling back down to his side. He stared at Rosie, still with an angry expression, but he didn't say anything. Rosie dropped her arms down, her breathing heavy as she stared at Daryl with wide eyes. He took a single step back, letting out a long sigh.

"Christ, I ain't gonna fuckin' hit ya, so quit actin' like yer scared of me," Daryl grumbled, rubbing his hand over his face exhaustedly. Rosie made no move to step closer to him or anything, she just simply stared, trying to breathe normally again.

"Look," Daryl said, sighing. "Randall said some shit, ok? He said some shit about you. He doesn't wanna be your friend, he wants to hurt you."

"But he-"

"Why're ya doin' this, huh? What's so special 'bout that guy?"

Rosie stared at him, trying to hold back a frown. She wasn't sure why she liked Randall so much at first, but then as she thought about, she realized that it was because of Fraser. Fraser died four years ago. He was 15 when he died. If he were still alive, he'd be 19, just a year younger than Randall was.

"He's jus' some guy. Ya trusted him after one conversation, and ya obviously still don't trust me, or Rick, or any of these people. Why? What the hell's so special about him?"

Unsure of what to do, Rosie lowered her eyes to her boots, kicking her right foot into the side of her left one. She considered her options. She could either not say anything and have Daryl continue to be pissed off at her, or she could tell him about Fraser.

He already knew Fraser existed, he just didn't know who he was to her. She'd mentioned him back at the CDC, after the whole situation with Shane.

"I told ya, back at the CDC, that these people care 'bout you. We don't want bad shit to happen to ya, but we can't make sure that shit doesn't happen if ya keep doin' this."

"I don't understand," Rosie muttered.

"Yeah," Daryl scoffed, "ya made that real fuckin' clear."

"I'm sorry."

"Quit sayin' that and tell me what the hell's goin' through your head when ya did that shit," Daryl said. Rosie kept looking down at her shoes, keeping her eyebrows furrowed as she thought about Randall. "Hey," Daryl said, tapping her on the arm. Her head shot up to look at him. "Answer me."

"He just reminds me of someone," Rosie mumbled out, hoping he'd just forget about it and move on. She knew he wouldn't though.

"Who?" Daryl asked, raising his eyebrows at her to try and persuade her into talking more.

Rosie stared at him for a long moment, hoping he'd just give up on it, but he didn't. He kept looking at her, waiting for her answer. Her stomach churned with anxiety.

"Fraser," she said so quietly that Daryl could barely make it out.

"That's who you were talkin' 'bout at the CDC," Daryl commented, urging her to say more. She just nodded, not giving any verbal response. "That your friend or somethin'?"

Rosie shrugged. "Kind of," she said.

"Kind of? He either is or he ain't."

"My brother," Rosie whispered, feeling a lump already forming in her throat. She didn't want to cry. She thought she got over it. It was so long ago. But she had been missing him even more lately.

Daryl watched her discreetly wipe her eyes with her sleeve, unsure of what to do. He was glad he was finally getting answers out of her, but he didn't know what the hell to do if she started full-on crying about it. He already felt guilty for scaring her, and now he was making her cry. He didn't know what else to say. She was just a kid. With adults, he could just ask what he wanted. But this was a nine-year-old. Who knew what the hell she'd even be able to get out before freaking out or something?

But much to Daryl's surprise, she started talking again, his silence beckoning her to continue. "He died when I was little. Five. He was fifteen," she said. Her hand absentmindedly lifted to fidget with the necklace around her neck.

"He'd be 'round Randall's age," Daryl observed, staring past Rosie out towards the shed. Rosie nodded before looking down at her feet again.

"I miss him," Rosie whispered, her voice breaking a little bit. She bit down onto her lip, trying not to cry.

"Randall ain't him, Rose. If your brother was any good, he was nothin' like Randall, alright?" Daryl said, putting his hand on Rosie's shoulder. Rosie looked at his hand for a moment, and then up at him, and nodded, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her flannel. "Good," Daryl said. His hand moved from her shoulder to her back, patting twice, and they began walking together. "Let's go."

"To where?" Rosie asked, looking up at him beside her.

"To talk to Maggie. Ya need warmer clothes," Daryl said, leading her towards the house.

Oh great, Rosie thought, now I have to go try on uncomfortable clothes. Today is not my day.