School. Rosie hated school, and she was going to make sure that everyone knew it. She was still laying in bed, but she could hear footsteps approaching outside the door. There was a knock- but not on her door. Then it was quiet for a minute, and then two pairs of footsteps. And another knock, but this time, it was on her door. Rosie pretended she couldn't hear, and didn't say anything. The door creaked open anyway, of course.

"Rosie," Maggie said in a bit of a sing-song voice. Rosie buried her face in the pillow. It smelled a little bit like Daryl, which was comforting- despite the fact that the scent of cigarettes, sweat, and grease isn't exactly a the nicest. "Come on, honey. It won't be that bad," Maggie insisted.

"Do I have to?" Rosie asked with a long sigh of complaint.

"Yes, Rosie. Come on," Maggie replied, trying to keep a playful voice in an attempt to make Rosie feel a little better about it. After huffing out a fine, Rosie dragged herself out of bed and followed Maggie and Ian down the stairs and into the kitchen. Ian and Rosie sat down at the table, and Maggie poured them each a bowl of cereal. It was very weird for Rosie, having her breakfast made for her. When she lived with her dad, she usually skipped breakfast, and if she did have anything, is was a Pop-Tart. She got Pop-Tarts if she was extra good, and if her dad was in an extra good mood.

"I like your dinosaur pajamas," Ian said, digging into his bowl of cereal.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Maggie told him, raising her eyebrows as she sat down at the end of the table with a plate of toast.

"My pants have 105 triceratops, 103 T. rex's, and 98 brachiosauruses," Rosie said, taking a bite of her own cereal. Once she was done chewing, she added, "I like your pajamas, too." Ian had on a plain gray shirt with light blue pants, and on the pants were some planes. Rosie had never been on a plane before.

"Thanks," Ian said, putting on a small smile. "I didn't count the planes, though."

"I only counted the dinosaurs 'cause I was tryin' to fall asleep," Rosie told him, shrugging a little. After Rick had left last night, she had actually counted the dinosaurs once more, just to make sure she was right. And because she was having a hard time sleeping, but what else was new?

"Sam says there's one other kid who's gonna be in our class. He was sick, that's why we couldn't meet him at Deanna's party or anything like that, or at least that's what Jessie said. She was asking about you, by the way. She said you weren't coming by for root beet anymore," Ian rambled as Rosie just ate her food quietly. She used to find his constant talking annoying, but she could only imagine how other people felt when she accidentally went on about dinosaurs for an hour, so she tried to be nice about it. "I told her you were busy, and sad because Daryl's gone. She told me you're welcome to come see her any time you want to," Ian continued.

Half an hour later, both Ian and Rosie had finished their breakfasts and were all ready to go. Rosie had sadly changed out of her dinosaur pajamas and put on some of the clothes that she had brought from her old house, and some she'd acquired on the road. She was now wearing a plain black t-shirt with Fraser's old hoodie over top it, and a pair of black shorts. She didn't have to wear a belt with most of her pants anymore, because she'd finally grown to fit the majority of her clothes just fine.

"Alright, you two know where to go?" Maggie asked, smiling down at the two kids.

"No," Rosie murmured.

"Yeah," Ian said, bouncing on his toes. "Sam showed me," he explained. Rosie wasn't looking forward to seeing Sam again. She'd been skillfully avoiding him, considering the fact that avoiding someone was better than punching them. Avoid him, 'cause daddy would punch him.

"Try to have some fun," Maggie said, ushering them out the door.

"We will!" Ian called back to her energetically, running down the steps. Rosie dragged her feet, slowly but surely following after him. Once she left the sidewalk, she gave Maggie one last longing look, saying with her eyes, please don't make me go. But Maggie's only response was a sympathetic smile. So Rosie followed Ian all the way to wherever they were supposed to go.

Apparently, this school was in a garage. Rosie's school district was broke, but not school's in the garage broke, so this was all pretty weird. When they finally reached the house, Ian went straight to the already-open garage, so Rosie did, too. In the garage, there were some desks and a white board, but that was about it. At the front of the room, there was a woman with brown hair that looked familiar to Rosie, for whatever reason.

Upon seeing Rosie and Ian appear in the garage, the woman smiled. "Oh, hi," the woman said, coming closer to the two. She gave her best fake teacher smile, and Ian returned it, while Rosie didn't. "I'm Mrs. Johnson. Let me just go get my son. He's been dying to meet you two," the woman said. She then turned and went inside her house for a moment. When she came back, someone was following behind her. "This is my son, Liam," Mrs. Johnson said, moving her son in front of her.

"Shit," Rosie murmured to herself, furrowing her eyebrows. You gotta be kidding me.

"Rosie?!" Liam said, his eyes widening. Rosie couldn't figure out what the emotions on his face were showing. "Oh, shit!"

"Liam," Mrs. Johnson scolded, glaring down at him.

"Wait, you know each other?" Ian asked, his eyebrows raised as he looked between the two of them. Rosie's eyes rolled and she lolled her head back in complaint and exhaustion. Of course, out of all the people in the world who would be in Alexandria, Liam Johnson- the boy who punched Rosie the day before she left to Atlanta with her dad- was living there. And to make matters worse, his mom was the teacher.

"Yeah, we know each other. She was my..." Liam glanced up at his mom, and then back over at Ian again. "She was my friend before everything," he said.

Friend? What the hell is he talking about? He was an asshole to me, and we were not friends.

"Hi, Mrs. Johnson," Sam's voice appeared behind Rosie and Ian, coming into the garage now, too. Rosie let out a long sigh. This was worse than she could have imagined.

"Alright, everyone. Sit down. We'll start in a minute, here," Mrs. Johnson said. Although reluctantly, Rosie took her seat in the desk on the far left. Ian was to her right, then Sam, then Liam. God, how she hated his guts.

•

"Hey, Rosie. How was school?" Carl asked as Rosie marched through the front door.

"Terrible," Rosie told him. Carl's eyebrows furrowed, and he sighed. "Liam Johnson lives here. And his mom is the teacher," Rosie elaborated.

"Who's Liam Johnson?" Carl asked.

"A jerk," Rosie answered, sitting down on the couch next to Carl. "But I don't wanna talk 'bout him anymore."

"Ok," Carl said. He got up and went over to the TV stand, opening one of the cabinets. He pulled out a deck of cards and tossed it on the coffee table. He sat down on the ground across from the couch, in front of the coffee table. "Wanna learn how to play Trash?" he asked.

Rosie let herself smile a little, sitting down on the ground now, too. "Sure," she said, and began shuffling the deck of cards.

•

Rosie was sitting on the porch, counting how many people walked by. She played cards with Carl for about an hour before he had to leave, and Ian was over at Sam's house again, so she was stuck on her own. She definitely wasn't going to go hang out with Liam Johnson, and she didn't have any books to read, so counting people was the only other thing she could think to do. She wished she had a pack of crayons, or colored pencils, or markers, but she didn't want to ask.

Exactly 12 people had walked by when Rosie stopped counting, because Rick was walking up the sidewalk, towards the porch. Rosie gave him a little wave hello, thinking he'd just go inside. It really looked like he was going to go inside for a moment, too, because he went to the door and almost opened it. Just as he put his hand on the handle, he paused and scrunched up his face a bit. Rosie watched, confused, as he came over and sat down next to her.

"Can I ask you something, Rosie?" Rick asked, looking at her with his eyebrows pinched together. It was strange.

"Uh, sure," Rosie answered, unsure of what else she would respond with. Technically, he had already asked her a question, but she didn't point that out because Rick seemed stressed out, and she didn't want to annoy him or make him mad. He never really got mad, though. Not at her. He didn't even talk to her about breaking that window.

"You don't have to answer this if you don't think you can, or if you don't want to," Rick said first. That only made Rosie feel anxious. There was a lot of things she didn't like talking about. Her dad, the Governor, the Claimers. Who knew if he was going to ask about one of those things? "If someone would've tried to help you- before, when you were with your dad- would you have wanted that?" Rick asked.

So it was one of the things Rosie didn't like talking about. She shrugged. "I didn't know I needed help," she muttered, looking at her shoes now. She'd never really thought about Rick's question before. Sometimes she imagined she had a different life before, but that life usually didn't involve her dad.

"What if you did know?" Rick asked. He didn't want to push, but he was feeling conflicted.

"I think so," Rosie said, picking at the end of her shorts. She thought about what Fraser said when he had gotten drunk that one time.

"Dad's a real asshole. You oughta get outta here, really," Fraser had said to her.

"What d'ya mean?" she'd asked.

"I mean, you oughta have a real dad, is all," Fraser had said, his words all slurred together. Then his eyes widened out of nowhere. "Hey, maybe I'll ask Mr. Smith to adopt ya. He really likes ya, y'know."

Rosie had spent some time thinking about that scenario, too. One where Coach Smith was her dad, and Fraser was still there, too. But most of the time, when she thought about what could've been, she thought about living with Daryl. It was weird. She could imagine him as her dad so easily, but she couldn't imagine herself ever actually calling him that. Dad. That word had been ruined for her now, in a way. Even if Daryl was her dad, she wasn't sure if she'd call him that. Maybe if she never knew her other dad. Maybe if she didn't have those memories. Then the word dad would mean hair ruffles and hugs, rather than cigarette burns and beatings. But she couldn't change the past, only the future.

"I think I'd want help, s'long as I had someone else good to stay with," Rosie elaborated, looking back at Rick again.

"Yeah," Rick said with a sigh, nodding in agreement. It seemed like he wanted to confirm something, and her words were confirming it. Rosie wasn't sure what he was thinking, but she hoped she wouldn't end up regretting telling him this.

•

Rosie watched from the porch as Rick started heading in the direction of Jessie's house. She decided she'd follow him and head to Jessie's, too. She wanted some root beer, and Jessie said that she was always welcome.

Turned out, Rick was going to Jessie's house, too. Rosie had seen them talking a few times, but she wasn't sure how good of friends they were just yet. She watched as he went up to front steps, and she was about to call out and tell him to wait for her when someone grabbed her arm, turning her around. Rosie jumped, furrowing her eyebrows. And, of course, it was Sam Anderson.

"You stole my dinosaur," Sam said, an angry look on his face. Rosie rolled her eyes.

"I didn't take nothin'," she lied, crossing her arms. She wasn't giving him back that triceratops. She liked it, and it took him over a week to notice that it was even missing. He didn't need it.

"Yes, you did," Sam argued, crossing his arms now, too. "I saw it at your house. It was on the table."

"Why were you at my house?" Rosie questioned, her voice full of anger and annoyance. She didn't want Sam at their house. She didn't like him, and that house was supposed to be safe. That included safe from jerks. Safe from anything Rosie wanted to be safe from.

"I was talking to Carol. But she wouldn't let me take the dinosaur. She said it was yours," Sam said, glaring at her. Why was he talking to Carol? That's weird.

"It is mine," Rosie told him, cocking her head to the side.

"No, it's not."

"Ok, then what color was is it?" Rosie quizzed, knowing that he more than likely wouldn't know the answer. Sam looked away, pretending he knew the answer as he thought up a guess.

Before Sam could voice his guess, the window of Sam's house suddenly shattered open, and both of the kids jumped back in surprise, their eyes widening. Sam's dad- Pete- was on the ground, in the pile of glass. Rick was on the other side of that broken window. He had thrown Pete through the glass, Rosie realized.

"Dad?!" Sam shouted, his voice getting all whiny.

"Rick! What're you doin'?!" Rosie yelled, her voice all panicky. If Rick was doing something dangerous, it was probably for a good reason, but that didn't stop Rosie from feeling stressed and overwhelmed as the two men began fighting each other.

They tackled each other and tackled each other until they were out on the pavement, just a few feet away from Rosie and Sam, who just kept backing up. More people started gathering, hearing the commotion. It was a lot like when Glenn and Aiden fought at the gate, after Rosie broke the window. But this was different. More violent. Glenn and Aiden exchanged a few swings, and the fight was done. But Rick and Pete- they weren't stopping. They just kept hitting each other hitting each other. Both of their faces were covered in blood, cuts, and forming bruises. Other started running towards the two of them, trying to get them to stop. Rosie felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Carl standing there with Enid by his side, both of their eyes wide.

"What's going on?!" Carl asked, his eyes glued to the fight between his dad and Pete.

"I don't know! They just started fightin'!" Rosie said, bringing her hands up to her hair and pulling.

Jessie was crying, and Sam ran over to Carol, hiding himself behind her. Rick had the upper hand, and then he didn't. Pete was on top of him, sitting on his chest as his hands wrapped around Rick's throat, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing.

"Stop it! Stop! You're gonna kill him!" everyone kept screaming, staying back as they tried to figure out what to do.

Rick and Pete were like two wild animals, fighting for dominance. Rosie had faith in Rick's ability to defend himself. He'd defended her time and time again. But Pete wasn't letting up. Suddenly, Jessie lurched forward and grabbed into her husband's shoulders, trying to pull him off of Rick. Pete slammed his elbow backwards, right into Jessie's face. She cried out in pain, falling to the ground. Rick took his opportunity to regain control, flipping over on top of Pete. They kept their hands on each other's throats, neither of them letting up even the slightest bit. Carl lurched forward next, trying pull his dad off of Pete. Rosie grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling him back. Carl just didn't want to lose what they had here at Alexandria, but Rosie just wanted Rick to survive. Who knew what Pete was capable of? Rosie didn't know him.

Rick got Pete into a chokehold, his arm wrapped around Pete's neck. Rosie watched, her eyes wide as Rick seemed to disappear. His eyes were distant, and he was staring off away from everyone else. He was losing control, just like Rosie did from time to time. But Rosie never tried to kill someone out of anger. She'd only done that to keep people safe.

"Stop it!" Deanna shouted, running closer to the two men. This seemed to knock Rick out of his trance, as he looked up at her with his bloody face. "Stop it right now," she commanded.

"You touch them again, and I'll kill you," Rick growled out into Pete's ear. That's when Rosie realized why he was doing what he was doing. Because Pete was like Rosie's dad, and like Sophia's dad, and like Daryl's dad. That's why Rick had asked her those things before. He was making his choice.

"Damn it, Rick! I said stop!" Deanna shouted again. A few people tried to come forward, to stop him, but they quickly froze in their spots.

"Or what?" Rick asked, his speech slurred. He pulled a gun out from the back of his waistband, and Rosie's eyes widened as he pointed it at the group. "You gonna kick me out?" he asked in tone Rosie hadn't heard from him before.

"Put that gun down, Rick," Deanna said, her voice calm and her hands held out in front of her as if she were taming a wild animal.

Rick stayed kneel on the ground, shaking his head as he kept his gun pointed. "You still don't get it. None of you do!" he shouted. He told Rosie they'd learn. He told her they'd have to. He was telling the truth. "We know what needs to be done, and we do it. We're the ones who live. You, you just sit and plan and hesitate. You pretend like you know when you don't!"

Part of Rosie was relieved the be hearing that Rick felt the same way that she did about this place, but the other part was screaming, he's gonna get kicked out. He can't get kicked out! He can't!

"You wish things weren't what they are. Well, you wanna live? You want this place to stay standing? Your way of doing things is done! Things don't get better because you- you want them to. Starting right now, we have to live in the real world. We have to control who lives here."

"That's never been more clear to me than it is right now," Deanna said stiffly, her voice firm and powerful. Rosie wanted to scoff, but she felt frozen.

"Me?" Rick asked, his eyes wide as he pointed at himself. He chuckled. "Me? You- you mean me? Your way is gonna destroy this place. It's gonna get people killed. It already gotten people killed. And I'm not gonna stand by and just let it happen. If you don't fight, you die. I'm not gonna stand by and-"

Before Rick could finish his sentence, Michonne sent her fist into the base of his skull, knocking him out cold. Rosie's face scrunched up, knowing the pain of being knocked out very well.