Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

   Rosita woke up to hazel brown eyes open wide an inch from her face.

   “Shit!” She threw herself back, much to her girlfriend’s laughter. “Tara, you can’t do that.”

   “Well it’s about time you woke up,” Tara shrugged. Rosita tried to act annoyed, but couldn’t hold it for too long. She gave Tara a good-morning kiss.

   “You’re the leader of this place. Why do I have to be awake?” she groaned, sinking back into the pillows.

   “I’m a half leader at best. Jesus is still around.”

   “He’s more like a runner-.”

   “Hey!” Tara protested.

   “It’s not a bad thing!" Rosita shrugged. "It suits him. He’s always in motion. Some people aren’t meant to be homebodies. You weren’t.”

   Tara scoffed. “You had to go and mess that up for me.”

   “Why are you up so early anyways? Are you meeting with Carl again?”

   “It’s the last clear line of communication we have. Besides, Jesus is always meeting with Aaron.”

   “You think they’re gonna get together?” Rosita asked, adjusting to lay on Tara's chest.

   “Just because they’re the only two gay guys we’re close with?”

   “They’re not the only gay guys here. There’s a guy in training that seems kind of…”

   “Don’t talk to me about gaydar, Rosita.”

   Rosita barked out a laugh. 

   “My gaydar is fine.”

   “You thought Glenn was my boyfriend when we first met.”

   “We had just met!” Rosita retorted. Tara laughed and pressed a kiss into Rosita’s hair.

   “Just be safe out there, mkay?”

   “I will,” Tara assured. “You be safe too.”

   “Teaching knife work to the kiddos? Yeah, that's about as safe as it gets.”

   “You do a good job with them, babe. I think it’s good they learn, and you’re good at teaching them.”

   Rosita sighed. “It makes me sad. That they have to learn this at all.”

   "Why's that?"

   "They make me think of Diego."

   Tara’s mood immediately turned solemn. 

   Rosita didn’t talk about her brother often, only in stories about when she was a kid, and all of those stories were carefree. She never talked about how he died, or anything serious. She and Tara had been together for three years, but there were some things Rosita kept particularly close to her chest.

   “He begged my mom for a pocket knife for his sixth birthday. That was really soon after my dad left, and Diego just kept saying he had to be the man, had to take care of the family now. And now we have all those kids out there, where knowing how to protect their own isn’t an exception, it’s the rule. It has to be. And it breaks my heart.”

   Tara tightened her arms around Rosita, holding her close. They had each other, which was more than a lot of people could say. But it was impossible to forget the reality of the loss that permeated all of their lives.

   "Sorry, Tara, I shouldn't have-"

   “That’s what hurt watching Carl grow up. We never even got to know him as a boy. He was a man at thirteen because he had to be,” Tara whispered.

   Rosita nodded into her chest and curled closer to Tara.

   "You think we'll ever know a kid who didn't have to grow up too fast?"

   "If it's our own. And I've tried to get you pregnant, but-"

   "Tara!" Rosita feigned disbelief, but you couldn't deny the smile that spread across her face. 

    She pressed a kiss in the spot between her collarbones she liked, earning a soft chuckle from her beloved.

   “I gotta go,” Tara whispered as Rosita began to press kisses all over her face.

   “Five more minutes?” Rosita climbed over Tara, positioning her mouth above hers.

   Tara leaned up and kissed her.

   “Five more minutes.”

***

   Tara kicked up small dust piles as she waited for Carl to arrive. She kept one hand on her gun out of habit as she scanned the surroundings. 

   Her other hand teased the fabric of her overshirt. Rosita had washed it the night before and helped Tara put it on that morning after a few more than five minutes of kissing.

   Finally the boy, now man, rounded the corner of some trees. He held in his hand a bag of ground coffee and a bottle of water. 

   "Where've you been?" he groaned, as Tara went to hug him. "I've been waiting out here for half an hour."

   "I said the forked tree. You went to the one that split in three." 

   He scoffed. "You would've found me sooner if you weren't late."

   Tara scoffed and snatched the water from his hand, pouring it into a pot she had in her bag.

   “One day, little man, I’ll bring a flask to these meetings,” she cracked as she lit a fire under the pot.

   “You could do it now. I had my first drink a long time ago.” 

   “CDC?”

   “Yeah.”

   “Glenn told me all about it. What’d you drink?”

   “Wine, I think. I thought it would taste like grape soda.”

   "And?"

   "And it did not," he scoffed.

   “Wine’s not a good first drink. I’ll find us something better. Whiskey, maybe?”

   Carl laughed. “Can’t get drunk out here. Too much that could happen.”

   “A girl can dream, right? I haven’t had a drink in at least a year. Still haven’t smoked since Denise.” Saying her name still sent a little pang through Tara’s heart, but she still smiled at the memory.

   Tara had started meeting up with Carl when Alexandria began shutting down contact with other communities. Carl said Michonne had been through something, something bad, and nearly lost Judith and her baby. She wanted to lock them all up and keep them all safe, so she shut off Alexandria. Carl snuck to Hilltop as soon as he could to let Tara know, and they coordinated their meetings through notes left in caches between their compounds.

   They talked about their communities. How they were doing, how the weather and the crops looked. How the people were. Their lives. Tara was still one of the only people Carl could let his guard down around.

   "It's hot out here," he groaned, moving to peel off his flannel. The left sleeve caught on his prosthetic, causing him to groan.

   "Need a hand?"

   "Yeah," he seethed. Tara tugged softly at the fabric until the shirt came off of his body.

   "Thanks." He took the flannel from her and dropped it on the log next to him.

   "Don't mention it."

   “How’s Enid?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

   “She’s alright. Training up to become a doctor.” Before Carl could ask any more, she cut him off. “She’s not seeing anyone, I really don’t see it happening for a long time. I think she just needs to be Enid for a while, not be with anybody, you know?”

   Carl nodded. Enid was careful, and didn’t want to push herself by rekindling what her and Carl had when they were younger. He understood, but still missed her.

   “How’s Judith? And the baby?”

   He smiled at the sound of his sister’s name.

   “She’s good. She’s already six. Michonne got her her own katana, of course she keeps a leather guard on it, but Michonne’s been training her.”

   “We’re going to have a six-year-old ninja on our hands, are we?” Tara cracked.

   “That’s the best Michonne is, when she’s with Judith.” Carl took the pot off the flame and poured the coffee into two travel mugs. “Otherwise she’s furious. She keeps Alexandria shut down, she keeps us away from the communities. I want to push her. But I don’t know how. And it isn’t fair. I know it’s hard with my dad being gone, I just want to see his dream through."

   Nineteen was too young to sound as tired as Carl did right then. His face was still warm with youth, but there was a coldness in his eye that would never go away, scars seared by a life that he never could’ve expected.

   Tara took one of the mugs in her hand.

   “Grieving takes time. Maybe she just needs time,” Tara suggested.

   “There’s nothing I can do right now. If it was anyone else, Tara, I’d push. But I can’t right now. She’s barely able to hang on taking care of the kids sometimes, I-.”

   “Shh,” Tara whispered as Carl’s voice began to choke up. She moved to sit next to him and started rubbing his back, and eventually put an arm around him.

   “Shit, sorry.” He wiped a tear from his eye.

   “Don’t be. I can’t imagine what you guys are dealing with.”

   “How’s Rosita?” he asked, desperately trying to change the subject.

   Tara got the same feeling she always did when someone asked about Rosita. The fact that Rosita was connected to her, they were Tara and Rosita, individuals yes, but they were also Tara-and-Rosita the couple, that fact never failed to bowl her over.

   “She’s good. She does weapons training and got promoted to a general of our militia, she’s even taught the kids how to use knives in case of an emergency.”

   Carl had known that Tara and Rosita were in love long before either of them did something about it. And Tara was just as in love as she had been, if not more, as she rambled about Rosita being by her side as she led, Rosita reading the books in the library while Tara met with Jesus, Rosita listening to her vents about whatever complaint she’d gotten that day.

   “The Coalition’s not dead, it’s just sleeping,” Carl said. It had become his mantra since his father died. “One day we’ll all be together again.”

***

   “When you hold a knife, it’s very important to hold it at your thigh and keep it pointing down.”

   The four Hilltop kids at the lesson watched Rosita instruct them with wide eyes.

   “Some of you have been in these walls since you were born. You may have seen walkers, you may have seen a breach every now and then, but the day will come when you’ll have to kill one yourself. Aim for the head, and try and put your knife through their eye. The only way you can kill them is by stabbing their brain.” A few of the kids shuddered at this. “I know it sounds gross, but it’s what we have to do to stay alive. To protect ourselves.”

   “Miss Rosita?” one of the kids asked. A boy no older than eight, with light brown skin and curly hair.

   “Yes?”

   “Will I ever have to kill a person?”

   Rosita took a breath. 

   She had become one of the higher-ups of the Hilltop army. Her skills with knives and guns weren’t overlooked, and Jesus had asked her to help the other general, Kal, to lead. Part of this included making sure the kids were well-armed. Rosita didn’t mind this, she liked the kids, and knew it was necessary to make sure they could take care of themselves.

   But of course, the job didn’t come without kids being kids.

   “Hopefully not. But you will meet people that try to hurt you. If there’s nothing else you can do, you have to kill.”

   The boy looked up at her with teary eyes.

   “If I have to kill a person, does that make me a bad person?”

   Rosita thought of her kills. Saviors, Wolves, the people at Terminus. The odd gang of bandits that would bang on Hilltop’s walls. She didn’t like killing, but it had kept her alive. Kept some members of her family alive. Kept Tara alive.

   “No. No it doesn’t." She sucked in a breath.

   "No more questions. Get in place for drills. Now."

***

   Rosita was at the stove when Tara got home. Her heart leapt at the sight of her, long black hair spilling out of her bun, brown eyes wide, overshirt hanging over her clothes.

   “How was your day?” she called over her shoulder.

   “It was okay. Carl’s okay. When I got back Jesus needed to talk, but it wasn’t anything serious. A report of a new camp not too far from here.”

   Tara walked to the stove, noticing the frustrated glare towards the pot on Rosita’s face.

   “How was your day?”

   “Fine."

   "You're glaring. Something wrong with the soup?"

   Rosita threw up her hands.

   “I can’t get it to taste right, and-.”

   “Here, let me.” Tara went to the cabinet and plucked a small tin of garlic salt from the sparse shelf.

   She went to the stove and dropped in a pinch of table salt, then some of the garlic.

   While she did this, Rosita came up behind her, nestling her head into Tara’s neck. Tara smelled like she always did, like paper and ink and dust. Rosita could never get enough.

   “We could get takeout,” Rosita murmured her nightly joke against the fabric of Tara’s shirt.

   “We got takeout last night,” Tara cracked. “Besides, it’s fine now. Taste it.”

   Rosita dipped her pinky in the soup and sucked off the liquid, the sharpness of the salt and flavor of the garlic making it taste worlds better than it had before.

   “You. Are. Magic,” she said to Tara, kissing her cheek. Tara smirked and poured them both bowls of soup.

***

    Tara was situated with her head in Rosita's lap. Rosita gently ran her fingers through Tara's hair as she always did, but their usual idle conversation was lacking. Tara had cracked a couple of jokes, but they were met with little more than a dry chuckle.

   "Babe?"

   "Mm?"

   "What's going on?" Tara pulled Rosita's hand away from her scalp and looked up.

   "Nothing."

   "Babe."

   She gritted her teeth. "One of the kids asked if killing made you a bad person. So now I'm wondering."

    Tara pulled herself off Rosita’s lap and looked at her, keeping her hand in hers.

   “I think you’re a good person.”

   “Of course you do.”

   “Rosita, I mean it. We can’t live how we used to. Everyone has done terrible things to survive by now.”

   "I know that, Tara, I just-"

   "Rosita. You've helped this whole community survive. We couldn't have gotten through the war without you. You're doing the best you can with what you have, that's all anyone can ask for."

   “Eternal optimist.”

   “Well, duh.” They both laughed.

   “You are a good person, Rosita. You would do anything for this compound. You spend your days teaching kids and adults how to fight so they can keep living, for themselves and others. That’s what a good person does, they use the life they have to make the lives of everyone else better.”

   Rosita sighed. “Thank you, baby. I just… can’t help but think about it sometimes.”

   “I know.” Tara pulled her arm around Rosita, who laid on her chest. 

   Rosita looked up and gently traced the curve of Tara’s jaw. Her eyes were tired, but her lips were smiling gently at Rosita.

   “Mi vida,” Rosita whispered, kissing Tara.

   Tara melted. It was by far her favorite nickname of anything Rosita called her. She cried for an hour when Rosita finally gave in and told her what it translated to.

   “Rosita,” she rhymed. “Let’s get to bed.”

Chapter Text

   “God damn it!” Jesus growled as he was shot with a spray of water, drenching him and the wrench in his hand.

   “You have to be slow with it,” Tara droned, standing behind him flipping through a manual.

   The pipe in Barrington House’s bathroom had been busted for the past week. Both Tara and Jesus were shocked it hadn’t happened sooner, and pissed it was happening now.

   Jesus pushed the wrench into Tara’s chest with a grunt.

   “Your turn.” He took his long, caramel-brown hair out of its bun and shook it down his shoulders.

   Tara went to inspect. 

   “Did you go out and see Aaron yesterday?” she called over her shoulder.

   Jesus scoffed.

   “I did. You know nothing’s going to happen.”

   “I’m not sure." There was a clang of metal and a murmured curse as she yanked the wrench. "Two grown men secretly meeting in the woods so one can teach the other to fight doesn’t sound friendly to me,” Tara stated plainly, knocking along the pipe.

   “Tara, he’s amazing. And he’s a family man. He has Gracie, he’s going to want stability. And I’m not stable.” She glanced over her shoulder and saw him with his shoulders hunched and lips turned down.

   “You could be. Rosita changed me for the better.”

   “That’s because you and Rosita are perfect. When you met her you thought she was straight. Now she’s the woman you go home to, you’ve been together six years. You basically won the queer lottery.”

   “You know Aaron is gay? You don’t have to worry about that part.”

   He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, watching Tara inspect the pipes.

   “All of my relationships have been hookups. Or lasted maybe two weeks. I don’t want to do that to Aaron. I want it to be real.”

   “Are you willing to change for him?”

   “Of course,” Jesus said like it was the most obvious thing on earth.

   “Then go get him, Jesus.” She gave the pipe a twist with the wrench. “Go turn the faucet on.”

   Jesus obeyed and gave the handle a twist. Water shot out of the faucet, and Jesus and Tara whooped for joy. 

   “We make a good team,” she grinned at him.

   “Well, we have kept Hilltop alive for the past six years,” Jesus cracked.

   All of a sudden, Kal burst through the doorway, with Rosita close behind.

   “Babe!”

   “Michonne’s here. And Carl. And Judith and Siddiq and a group of people I don’t recognize,” Rosita explained. 

   Tara waved Jesus along, and they went to greet the group at the gate.

***

   Michonne nodded at Tara and Rosita when they opened the gates. Carl stood tall next to her, metal prosthetic arm glinting in the sun, the light catching the one clear lens of his glasses. Next to him was a young girl with a sharp nose and straight brown hair, with a katana slung over her shoulder.

   With her was Siddiq, who had let his black hair grow to his shoulders. Since Carl saved him, he had become an asset to Alexandria, acting as their doctor and surgeon.

   There was another group, a gaggle of five people that clearly were their own unit. They reminded Tara of what GREATM had been.

   There was a barrel-chested man with sweaty, curly, black hair. A woman with dark brown skin and tight black curls cut neatly so they sat right on top of her head. Another woman stood next to her with tawny skin and the same kind of tight black curls, except hers hung down to her jaw. Sisters, Rosita thought.

   It was Tara who paid the most attention to the other two women. A tall, slim woman with long black hair. The woman next to her had shifty eyes and wavy dirty blonde hair, and stood near the woman, keeping her arm on hers protectively, giving them all the same look Tara gave anyone she thought might hurt Rosita.

   Hm. She had some suspicions to confirm.

   Carl ran towards Tara, pulling her into a hug. They hadn’t stopped their communications in the woods, but it was still always good to see each other. In the world they lived in, you had to treat every meeting, every get together, every hug or I love you like it was your last.

   Michonne gave Rosita a brief hug and Siddiq hugged them both. Jesus went to give Carl a high five. The new group shifted awkwardly.

   “Michonne, good to see you,” Rosita said.

   “Likewise. I have a favor to ask you two. Judith and Carl brought this group to our doorstep and we don’t have the room or resources for them. They’re good people, so we-.”

   “You think Hilltop’s overflowing with resources?” Tara spat. Michonne pursed her lips.

   “Tara, go talk to the new people. Tell me what you think. I’ll talk to Michonne.” Tara pursed her lips and walked towards the new group.

   “Okay! I guess I’m the welcome wagon. It’s good to have you all. Do we wanna start with names?”

   The man spoke first. “I’m Luke.”

   The woman with short hair spoke second.

   “I’m Kelly. This is Connie.” She signed as she spoke, hands moving faster than she talked so Connie was aware of the conversation.

   Rosita came up from behind Tara.

   I’m Rosita, she signed, pointing to herself. This is Tara.

   Nice to meet you, Connie responded, grinning softly. Tara watched, eyes agape as Rosita signed. She didn’t know Rosita knew ASL, of course, she’d never had a reason to use it before now.

   “I’m Magna. This is Yumiko,” the blonde woman said, eyeing Tara fiercely.

   “I apologize for her,” Yumiko assured. “We’ve been on the road a long time, and we have a hard time trusting-.”

   Tara waved her hand, cutting her off.

   “I get it, I promise. I hope we can earn your trust.”

    Tara considered her next words carefully.

   “I hope you don’t mind me assuming, but… how long have you two been together.”

   Yumiko smiled warmly, pausing to gaze at Magna briefly.

   “Ten years. The best ten years of my life.” Magna rolled her eyes, but there was a softness to it.

   “That’s beautiful. That one over there, she’s mine,” Tara pointed to Rosita, who was busy talking to Carl and Judith.

   “How long have you been with her?” Magna asked, relaxing her glare.

   “Six years. We met when our groups converged on the road.”

   “People don’t exactly hate other people for who they kiss anymore, typically. But it’s always nice to be around our own,” Yumiko explained.

   “That I can agree with,” Tara assented. Before she could speak further, Judith bustled over to her.

   “Are you my aunt Tara? Carl tells me about you all the time. He said you’re the funniest person he knows.”

   Tara’s heart melted as she crouched to meet Judith’s eyes.

   “I would be honored to be your aunt Tara. Although Carl gave me a lot to live up to.” Judith giggled in response.

   “And here’s your- aunt? Tia? Which do you like better?” Carl asked Rosita.

   “Tia’s perfect.”

   “Judith, this is your tia Rosita.”

   The girl bounded into Rosita’s arms, who swept her into a hug.

   “I remember when you were a baby,” Rosita told her. “You’ve gotten so big! How are you with the sword?”

   “Carl says I’m as good as my mom.” Rosita noticed how Michonne melted at this, despite the clear animosity she felt towards the community interaction. 

   “Come on, how about you show me?” Rosita offered, taking Judith into a clearer area to practice with the blade.

   Tara approached Michonne, who had finished talking to Jesus.

   “He’s good with letting them stay if you are.”

   “I’m good with it. Are you still against the Coalition?”

   Michonne huffed. “Tara-.”

   “Hilltop has been in communications with Oceanside. And the Kingdom. Ezekiel wants to get everyone together so we can start over. Rick has been gone for a long time. We have to open up again.”

   “You know Alexandria has its people to protect,” Michonne asserted.

   “So do we. Remember the group we had on the road? We could all rely on each other, that’s how we lived. We wouldn't have survived the Alexandria bombing during the war if we didn’t have Hilltop to run to.”

   “Tara. I have my family to think of.”

   “So do I,” Tara protested.

   Michonne waved Siddiq, Carl, and Judith to join her in the cart.

   “Think about it, okay?” Tara insisted.

   Michonne gave her a curt nod and set off back to Alexandria.

***

   By the time Tara and Jesus set up Magna’s group in their own trailer, the sky had gone dark.

   Tara went home to Rosita, who was sitting on the couch gazing out the window.

   “Hey, babe.”

   “Baby,” Rosita whispered, tucking her arms around Tara and kissing her.

   “I didn’t know you knew sign.”

   “Diego lost his hearing when he was nine. He had a really bad ear infection that just shot his eardrums. And my mom wasn’t able to get it taken care of in time. He could speak, but he didn’t know what anyone was saying to him. So we all learned sign. I did, at least. My mom didn’t have the time.” She said the last sentence particularly bitterly.

   “Why didn’t you tell me he lost his hearing?”

   “It never seemed like it needed to be brought up.”

   “Rosita,” Tara groaned, taking her hand in hers. “Six years we’ve been together. I don’t even ask when I take your clothes anymore.”

   “You never asked before,” Rosita cracked.

   “Still. I want to know all there is about you, even if it’s scary. Don’t tell me if you don’t want to, but I want to know you, Rosita. I want to know all of you.”

   Rosita sighed.

   “What do you want to know?”

   “I want to know more about Diego.”

   Memories flooded back into Rosita’s head.

   Sunburnt summers.

   Running to the ice cream truck to grab a bag of duros de harina to split.

   Dad leaving. 

   Diego with his pocket knife, promising them all he’d take care of the house.

   The ear infection.

   The car wreck.

   She didn’t think of Diego often. But lately he was all she could think about.

   “We were happy when we were kids. We were normal, you know? Dad left when I was eight. Said he wanted more, needed more than us. Wanted to find himself, or whatever. So I told you, Diego tried to be the man. He didn’t let me go anywhere by myself, even though I was two years older. He said he had to protect me, protect Mom. She worked late nights as a nurse, and she’d take up odd jobs when she could just to support us. We still had fun sometimes, but he got so serious. So convinced he had to save everyone. Kind of like you.” Tara chuckled.

   “He died when I was thirteen. He got in a wreck when he was in the car with my mom.” Tara thought briefly of her mother. “My mom saw his body and got us ready to move the next day.” Her voice began to choke up. “So we left, and she just took me wherever she could find work. Sometimes it was towns away, sometimes it was states away. She just did whatever she could do to get away from where he had died. And it made sense. But I got fed up with moving around. So I enlisted in the army for some stability, and ended up at a base back in Texas. I clung to it until Abe found me when everything fell apart.”

   “I’m so sorry Rosita.” Tara pulled her into her arms.

   “I just see the kids and- and I think about him. How quickly they grew up, how quickly he grew up. It hurts so much to see.”

   Tara kissed Rosita’s cheek softly, holding her cheek with her other hand.

   “Thank you for telling me.”

   “I should’ve done it a long time ago.”

    “Remember what we promised. I want to be here for you. I will always be here to help you. To support you. To listen to you.”

   Rosita kissed Tara and squeezed her hand.

   “I want to let you. I just need help sometimes.”

   Tara kissed her forehead.

   “I can always do that.”

Chapter Text

   She still got nightmares.

   They were infrequent. The stability of Hilltop had helped her, they weren’t as bad or consistent as they had been. But some nights they still got her.

   One night was particularly bad. She was dreaming about Brian with his blade again. Except he wasn’t swinging it into the old man. It was Jesus, first. Then Kal. The members of Magna’s group. Tammy and her husband. All of the people of Hilltop, dead right in front of her. And she was helpless.

   He brought out the last victim. And as Tara watched him slaughter Rosita, the last thing that left her lips was:

   “Tara!”

***

   “Rosita!” she heaved, sitting straight up in bed. She was breathing so hard her chest ached, she felt dizzy and sick and scared. It was still dark out and if Tara listened closely, she could hear the crickets outside.

   “Baby,” Rosita murmured. “What’s wrong?” She sat up slowly to meet her girlfriend’s eyes, wiping the sleep from her own.

   Tara didn’t like waking Rosita. She never did, intentionally. Rosita slept quickly and easily, but she pushed herself in training, and Tara didn’t like to take away sleep from her.

   “There you are. I’m sorry, I had a bad dream.” Tara spoke quickly, like she was trying to shake it all off.

   “Hey, where are you?”

   Rosita knew about Tara’s grounding coping mechanism almost as soon as she had put it into practice. But when they were together, Rosita took it on herself to get Tara focused. It scared her when Tara had nightmares, when she spaced out so hard Rosita didn’t know where she was, so this was the best way she could help.

   “I’m in bed. With you. And the sheets are warm and they smell like old soap. And I’m going to go back to sleep.”

   Rosita pulled her close as they laid back down, gently trailing her nails down her back. She kissed Tara’s cheek, her nose, her forehead. She held her so Tara could curl into Rosita’s frame, head against her chest.

   “Yeah, you’re going to go to sleep. And it’s going to be okay. I’m not going anywhere,” Rosita assured.

   Tara nestled in close, letting Rosita hold her. Rosita was always cold, but Tara didn’t mind one bit if it meant she got to be up against her. 

   “What happened? In the dream?”

   “I lost everyone at Hilltop. And then I lost you. And I couldn’t do anything about it.”

   Rosita held her tighter.

   “I’m right here. Mi vida?”

   “Rosita?”

   “I’m not going anywhere.” Tara nodded in response as her breathing slowed.

   Before she slept, Tara wondered if Rosita ever had nightmares. If she did, if she would tell Tara about them. Rosita didn’t open about what she dealt with often. Tara understood, though, that it didn’t have to do with her. Rosita trusted her, and she trusted Rosita.

   Still, as she fell asleep, she couldn’t help but wish there was a way to help Rosita open up.

***

   Aaron and Eugene were at Hilltop’s gates the next day, Eugene holding a crate of equipment. Tara and Rosita greeted Eugene while Jesus spoke to Aaron, blushing madly.

   “What’s up?” Tara asked Eugene, bumping his fist with her own.

   “I recently procured some supplies to create a radio. Coming out here to you is a sizeable risk considering the current animosity Michonne holds towards the other communities, but I hope this may change her mind. I need to set up a signal inside Hilltop and one in an area nearby. I came to request both your permission and aid while completing this.”

   Rosita clapped his shoulder.

   “Eugene, never change.”

   “Is that a yes to the aid? No disrespect, Rosita, but as far as I’m aware Tara and Jesus are who have the final say.”

   “I’ll go with him,” Aaron piped up.

   “I’ll come too,” Jesus interjected, to the amusement of Rosita and Tara.

   “Take Kal,” Tara insisted. “Be back by nightfall.”

   “If I may,” a new voice spoke from behind her. “I’d like to join the party.”

   Tara turned. It was the curly-haired man from Magna’s group, Luke. 

   “Connie and Kelly are good with people, they can help your communications. And Yumiko and Magna will be an asset in the army. I’m no fighter or diplomat, but I am good at finding things.”

   “Then let’s give you a try,” Jesus agreed, shaking Luke’s hand. 

   “Tell the group for me, will ya? I’m an early bird, but the rest are not. Magna and Yumiko, the way they are, they’re probably still in bed-.”

   “Okay! Let’s roll,” Kal insisted, blushing hard. 

   “Well Magna and Yumiko seem to be a happy couple,” Tara cracked as the group left for the woods.

   Rosita scoffed, going to close the gates.

   “Are you happy?” she asked sarcastically.

   Tara shrugged. “I could be happier.”

   “It’s early,” Tara wasn’t usually so forward with her propositions, but Rosita wasn’t complaining as long as it was what Tara wanted.

   “We’re both awake. But only if you’d like.”

   “Get in the house.”

***

   Tara obeyed, rushing back into Barrington house. Rosita shut the door behind them.

   “Jesus is gone, no one is going to interrupt us.” Rosita kissed Tara hard, pushing her into the wall. Her hand dipped between Tara’s thighs, brushing her spot just barely. Tara tried not to squirm, but couldn’t help it. Rosita was intoxicating.

   They’d had sex before. But every time felt new. Touching Rosita was like heaven, but for Rosita to touch her back made Tara lose control.

   Rosita gave Tara’s crotch an especially strong swipe and Tara groaned.

   “Rosita please.”

   “What was that?”

   “Have me. Do something… just don’t tease.”

   “You don’t want me to tease, baby? I won’t.”

   Rosita curled her hand around Tara’s shirt, and after a nod of approval, pulled it over her head. She began to lay kisses down the span of her chest, taking care to kiss the spot between her collarbones, which in turn sent Tara into a frenzy.

   “Off, off,” she urged Rosita’s tank, tugging the fabric until it was in her hands and she could throw it to the floor. Rosita pressed her body to Tara’s, flooding her senses with pleasure. All she could feel was Rosita, she didn’t know where her skin stopped and her own began.

   “What do you want me to do?” Rosita asked, starting to tug at Tara’s bra clasp.

   Tara wanted what she always wanted, for Rosita to spill over her like wine, to make her forget her own name. 

   “Whatever you want,” Tara slurred.

   Rosita nodded and started to press kisses down Tara’s stomach, mouth ghosting over the fabric of her bra. She reached her jeans, and after getting permission, undid the button and shimmied the denim off her legs.

   Her fingers got to work between Tara’s legs, brushing everywhere but where Tara wanted. Her core ached, legs tightening to push away the feeling being stoked in her stomach.

   “Rosita, please- oh fuck.”

   Rosita slid off Tara’s boxers. 

   “Baby... you’re soaked.”

   “Fucking yes I am! Jesus, stop wasting time!” Tara growled, pushing her head into the pillow.

   “We have time,” Rosita murmured as she kissed Tara's thighs. She remembered her girlfriend’s insistence for no teasing, and moved her fingers, stroking them where she knew Tara liked.

   Tara reeled, arching her back into the mattress. Rosita’s hands moved at the perfect speed, sending shocks through Tara’s core.

   “Sorry I cussed at you- ugh.. Rosita, fuck.”

   “Don’t be sorry. That just means I’m doing my job right.” Rosita leaned her head down and licked up between Tara’s thighs, just grazing her skin at first, but eventually entering her, tasting her.

   “Rosita, oh my god. Oh my god right there, oh my god-.”

   Rosita’s tongue found Tara’s clit and moved against it in a way that sent tremors through her body. Tara couldn’t help it, she gripped one hand into the mattress and one into Rosita’s back, nails digging. She’d given up on trying to be quiet by that point.

   “Please, please,” Tara moaned, clenching her jaw.

   “You don’t need to beg. I’m right here, baby.”

   “Don’t stop. Don’t stop, Rosita… I’m gonna…

   Tara’s core felt like a rubber band pulled tight. Rosita gave one more firm lick against her. Tara ground herself into her mouth, she couldn’t help it. The pressure built, and built, and built, until it all pushed out.

   Tara screwed her eyes shut as her body roiled, thighs shaking with exertion. She collapsed into the mattress, body limp, with Rosita planting little kisses up her thighs, her chest, all the way to her mouth. 

   “Happy now?” Rosita asked.

   “Mm. Very. How about you?”

   Rosita raised her eyebrows, and Tara pushed her onto the bed.

***

   “I don’t know about you, but I would say today was productive,” Tara quipped, popping a grape into her mouth.

   She had made sure Rosita was taken care of, and then they took a shower together. They made lunch, and since the afternoon had been cuddled on the couch together, Rosita’s feet over Tara’s lap, Tara’s head on her shoulder.

   “Oh yeah. Very. It’s important for the leader and First Lady of Hilltop to be in high spirits.”

   “First Lady? How are you the First Lady? I’m not president.”

   “You were voted in,” Rosita shrugged, plucking a grape for herself. “Same difference.”

   “No one calls me president Tara. Hmm, I’ve got one. Queen Rosita?”

   Rosita scoffed. “No way. That’s Carol’s thing.”

   Tara twiddled her thumbs. “There aren’t many more options.”

   “Just say I’m the first lady and be done with it.”

   Tara put her hands up in defense. “Okay, First Lady of Hilltop.”

   Rosita looked down at Tara, feeling the wind get knocked out of her. She couldn’t believe she had almost let this woman leave for Hilltop without her. She couldn’t believe there was a point in her life where there was no Tara.

   Tara was a fact of her days. They woke up together, got home and told stories together. On days Rosita didn’t have training, she’d follow Tara to meetings with Jesus, on days Tara had no plans she’d follow Rosita to training. On days they were both free, they spent it how they liked. Sometimes in bed, sometimes trying new foods even though ingredients were limited, sometimes reading in silence, but together in the same room. Rosita loved it. She loved to be close to Tara, to be able to surprise her with a kiss or wrap her arms around her.

   “You’re thinking about something,” Tara stated plainly.

   “I’m thinking about how lucky I am to have you.”

   “Well aren’t you sweet,” Tara grinned.

   “I mean it,” Rosita whispered.

   “I’ve been thinking lately, about how lucky we are. To have lived through all of this, and still have each other. There are so many people that have it worse. I see these kids that have to grow up like this, they’ll never know a normal world. I see people our age and older that are just… broken. It’s scary to think of losing you. And it’s not like I wouldn’t find a way to keep going, I just don’t want to picture my life without you. I want us to beat the odds, Tara.”

   “We will, Rosita. We already have. The fact we’ve made it this long, we’ve come close to death enough times, we’re going to make it. It’s gonna be you and me, up until the end.”

   Rosita could hardly respond, she just kissed her. 

   There was a pounding at the door. Tara groaned and stretched, getting up to open it.

   Outside were a trembling Eugene, a wide-eyed Aaron, and a stoic Kal.

   “Hey. What’s up? Did you get the radio set up?” Tara asked, stomach sinking at the way the group had shrunk after they’d left.

   “That plan has fallen through,” Eugene explained, blubbering slightly. “We ran into a group, walkers but they couldn’t have been, but they were-.”

   “Eugene. What’s going on?” Rosita insisted.

   “Well I-.” Furious with his lack of urgency, Aaron cut him off, saying the words Tara and Rosita both dreaded.

   “Jesus and Luke were taken.”

Chapter Text

   “How did they go missing? Where did they go?” Rosita demanded. They were huddled around an old wooden table in Barrington house, cluttered with maps and old plans.

   “We were walking through the woods to find a place to set up the signal. We came across a group of walkers, and we thought it would be like every other time we’ve dealt with them. Then we heard people talking, whispering. We started to freak out, so we took all the shots we could, killing as many as we could. But then one of the walkers- it was acting human. He seemed to have control over his arms and his body, and then he grabbed Luke. Another just like him grabbed Jesus, and-.”

   “It’s okay,” Tara promised, grabbing Aaron’s shoulder. 

   “The risk is high, but we need to make an attempt to go out and find them,” Eugene stammered.

   “I’m scared to put anyone else at risk tonight,” Tara explained.

   “Tara, if these people are taking our people, it’s only a matter of time before they try to figure out where Hilltop is. We have to move quickly.”

   Tara nodded. “You’re right, Rosita. We’ll send a search party first thing tomorrow morning. I hate to make them wait that long, but you guys are going to need daylight. Who should go?”

   Kal spoke up. “I’ll go.”

   “I’ll go too,” Rosita said.

   Tara’s head whipped to face her.

   “Rosita, we don’t know-.”

   “I know. But I’m these people’s general.”

   “Co-general,” Kal winked.

   “Co-general, whatever. Point being, I have a duty to serve. I’m going to help Kal and we’re going to bring them back.” She stroked Tara’s cheek. “I promise.”

   “Okay.”

   “Michonne brought a group in a while back, right?” Aaron asked.

   “Yeah. Magna’s group,” Tara assented.

   “Luke was part of that group,” he continued. “Shouldn’t his group learn about the search?”

   “I think Magna would join the search, Yumiko too,” Rosita agreed. 

   “Should I get them now?” Tara began to stand up from the table.

   “Do that,” Kal confirmed. “That way they’ll be ready and we can head out in the morning.”

   “I’ll be back.” Tara left the room and headed to Magna’s trailer. 

   Rosita turned to Kal.

   “Do we want to gather up any other members of the army?”

   “I think we should travel light. If we keep it to you, me, Aaron and maybe some of Magna’s group, it’ll be easier to stick together.”

   “Should I see what I can find in the armory?”

   “I’ll do that.” He tapped her shoulder. “Reconvene with Tara about Magna’s group and get Aaron and Eugene a place to sleep, I’ll check out weapons.”

   “Check for blades, Kal. We don’t know what we’re dealing with, we’re going to want to be quiet. We’ll leave at dawn.” 

   He nodded in assent and went to the armory. Rosita led Eugene and Aaron to an empty trailer.

   “You think he’s gonna be okay?” Aaron asked Rosita, desperately trying to disguise the fear in his voice.

   “All I can say is if he hadn’t been elected, he would be in our army. He’s going to be okay,” Rosita assured, squeezing Aaron’s shoulder. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe. The thought of losing Jesus reminded him of how it felt to lose Eric. Aaron hoped to start over with Jesus, he hoped to start something. But Jesus needed to be alive for that.

   Rosita pulled Aaron into a hug and bid goodnight to him and Eugene. She went back into the planning room of Barrington house and checked the clock. It was about 11:00, she needed to get to bed if she wanted to get at least six hours of sleep.

   Tara came through the door, careful not to be too loud.

   “I told them. Magna’s pissed. Her and Yumiko are going to go with you guys tomorrow. She tried to get me to leave tonight, Yumiko held her back. She agreed, yknow, that it was best to leave when we had light.”

   “Are you okay, Tara?”

   “I’m fine. I’ll go around town tomorrow and see what needs to be taken care of, make sure everyone is chilled out. We don’t need to rile anybody up until we know exactly what’s happening.”

   Rosita recognized Tara’s old urge to busy herself, to fill her time with every task possible so her brain couldn’t make her overthink.

   “Your best friend is missing. It’s okay if you’re upset.”

   Tara sighed and kissed Rosita gently.

   “And my girlfriend is going to go look for him. I’m scared. But that’s part of being a leader. I have to push through or else someone will get hurt.”

   Rosita pulled her into a hug.

   “I think you’re brave.”

   “I think you’re brave too, babe. And you’re gonna bring them home.”

***

   Rosita was sure to kiss Tara on the forehead before she left, earning a sleepy “mmm?” from her girlfriend. Tara was tamping down her worries about Jesus the best she could, but her fear was apparent. But as scared as she was about Jesus, that was how much she trusted Rosita.

   Rosita gathered her group and they began to move through the woods, Aaron guiding them through where they traveled. The trees reached towards the sky, deep brown trunks surrounding their field of vision. Branches big and small littered the ground, and the group had to step carefully as to not shock any walkers into noticing them.

   “So, these were walkers that acted like people?” Rosita clarified, eyebrow raised.

   “Basically. I don’t know exactly what they were. Like we said, we moved to kill them and all of a sudden they had Luke and Jesus. We barely saw it happen,” Kal explained, trying to keep his voice steady.

   Aaron was noticeably silent. Magna and Yumiko trailed behind the group, speaking in hushed whispers to each other.

   “Hey,” Kal said to Aaron. “We’re gonna get him back, I promise. You’re working with one of the best fighters in Hilltop, and also Rosita.”

   “Ass,” Rosita scoffed, playfully swatting his arm.

   “You seem confident,” Magna muttered.

   “What?”

   “You don’t seem worried, Rosita.” Magna said it like an observation, but there was a tinge of accusation in her voice.

   Rosita was worried. She didn’t like wandering like this, unsure of what they’d find. Especially after her talk with Tara, the idea of something going wrong terrified her.

   She wanted to keep this from Magna, but she also longed to get along with the new group. And she could tell by how Magna was with Yumiko that she was like a cat, she was going to take work to get close to, but once Rosita had done the work, she would earn her trust.

   “I am worried. I don’t like going far from Tara, especially when I don’t know exactly where we’re going or what might happen. I know I can fight, I know I shouldn’t be scared. But I want to keep living. I like Hilltop, and I want to be able to go home.”

   “Luke’s not much of a fighter,” Yumiko explained, her British accent especially pronounced. “He’s smart as hell, he’s family to us. So we can’t help but worry.”

   There was a brief silence as the group pressed into the woods. Leaves crunched under their boots as the sun creeped in through the branches.

   “For a long time, our group was all we had. We never separated. Luke has always wanted to prove himself, I think he’s gone too far,” Magna said, head low. Yumiko rubbed her back.

   “The man he’s with, Jesus, is trained in martial arts and a powerful fighter. He’s good with his words, too. We have to assume Luke is safe,” Rosita assured.

   “She’s right,” Yumiko said to Magna. “Worrying isn’t going to get us anywhere.” Magna nodded, and grabbed Yumiko’s arm.

   They pushed further, lush green leaves growing denser and harder to get through. The woods had become less trees and more bushes, and Rosita began to get tiny, hair-thin scratches on her bare arms.

   “Stop,” Aaron commanded, raising his prosthetic arm. “Back to back, now.”

   Rosita did as she was told, getting in a circle with the group so that all of them faced outward. They were all sickeningly silent, furiously searching for what had gotten Aaron to cut them off.

   Magna saw her first, her face, usually so stoic and furious, wrinkled in fear at the corners of her eyes, mouth falling open.

   Rosita saw her next. It was a walker, but not exactly. She walked slowly, but her gait was entirely human, no telltale limp or shuffle she’d come to expect from walkers.

   Yumiko’s eyes scanned the woman, gasping in horror when she made the connection. Peeking out from her eye sockets were human eyes, open and shining. Around them was… skin. But skin that wasn’t the woman’s.

   She was wearing it.

   The mask hung like poorly tanned leather, mouth hung open in a permanent cry for help, eyes gaunt in a way she only saw on corpses. There were patches missing from the greasy, dead hair that barely clung to the scalp.

   Rosita wanted to throw up. Magna’s hand went to her belt where her knife hung, cut off only by a don’t glance from Yumiko.

   “Who the hell are you?” Rosita asked. Sensing the urgency, Aaron and Kal turned to face the woman, flinching at the sight.

   The woman’s hand went to her hair. The mask tugged cleanly off her head, revealing her face. She appeared to be about 40, wrinkles under her eyes and around her lips. Her head was completely shaved and her face was covered in dirt.

   Another person with a mask materialized from the woods, his height and build dwarfing the woman next to him. He looked like a pro wrestler, barrel-chested and broad. His mask was gray and a thick beard sprouted from underneath it. Despite the fear he evoked, he stood behind the woman, clearly submissive to her.

   On either side of the two came two more people in similar masks, each one with a prisoner.

   “Luke!” Magna called, half relief, half panic.

   “Jesus?” Aaron called, like he could hardly believe it.

   The woman smiled, revealing yellow teeth that appeared to be decaying.

   “It’s good to finally meet you folks,” she greeted in a high southern drawl. “I’m Alpha.”

***

   Finally? Rosita thought. That could mean any number of things, but it could also mean exactly what Rosita was dreading.

   “Give our people back,” Aaron demanded. “This doesn’t have to be messy.”

   “Oh, I didn’t make it messy. You see, a group found mine on the road the other day. They killed ‘em, and took my daughter. I thought your friends here might know something.”

   Rosita scanned Jesus and Luke. Jesus had a tear on his black sleeve that revealed a stripe of blood, as well as a bruise smearing up his neck. Luke had a black eye and a broken nose. But they were both still alive.

   “We don’t know about your daughter,” Rosita pleaded. “We haven’t taken in anyone. We haven’t sent out a group in a long time.”

   “Then what were these two doing?”

   “Just setting up a radio. They didn’t mean any harm.” Aaron’s old greeter instincts came into play as he fought to de-escalate their situation.

    “Please, let them go,” Yumiko insisted. “We don’t know about your daughter.”

   Alpha nodded at the men and they released Jesus and Luke, pushing them into the dirt. Aaron rushed to Jesus, pulling him up off the ground. Yumiko and Magna linked arms with Luke, helping him to stand.

   “We’ve been keeping eyes on you. Our camp has come through here more than once. We can coexist, or we can destroy you. Either way, it’ll be what nature ordered,” Alpha purred.

   “Nature? You don’t have any claim to these woods,” Rosita seethed. “You had no right to take our people.”

   “They’re still breathing, aren’t they? I might not feel so generous next time,” Alpha snarled.

   “Stay away from us.”

   “Rosita.” Kal grabbed her arm.

   “I know what your people look like. That woman who goes to the guard posts, that’s your leader, right? With the long dark hair and the dark green shirt? Maybe I’ll break her next if you folks can’t play nice.”

   There were many women with long dark hair in Hilltop. That alone wouldn’t have set Rosita off. But Tara still wore that goddamn over shirt, what she called her safety, that had now allowed her to be recognized.

   Rosita went quiet as her blood ran cold. It took Kal shouting in her ear and tugging at her arm to get her out of the forest.

Chapter Text

   “You know, you really wouldn’t be Ezekiel’s kid if you didn’t make an entrance.”

   Henry sat in the cell with his head low, sandy hair hanging over his eyes.

   “I bet your head’s killing. Nothing like your first hangover. Look.” Tara crouched to meet his eyes. “You’re just a kid. And it’s a lot harder to be a kid when the world is like this. But you gotta keep it together, or people will get hurt. There’s a reason bars aren’t a thing anymore, you can’t lose your head, or else who knows what could go wrong.”

   He nodded, a single tear streaking down his cheek.

   Tara felt bad for the boy. He had lost his parents and brother, and had been taken in by Carol and Ezekiel. He was luckier than most, some kids were orphaned entirely with no parents to take them in. But it was still a shit situation. He’d come to Hilltop to train under Earl to become a blacksmith, but he’d gotten drunk with some of the other teenagers and caused a ruckus. 

   Tara was secretly grateful for the night it occurred on, because Rosita hadn’t gotten home from the search yet and Tara needed a distraction from her worry.

   “I won’t tell Carol, this time. But you’re growing up. You need to be careful, you need to think about what you do. Because no one got hurt this time you were careless, but there’s no telling what will happen next time. You get let out the day after tomorrow.”

   She slid a breakfast plate into his cell and he took it, managing a smile. Tara knew she did the right thing, it was procedure to lock up people for a public disturbance. But he was a sweet boy, and Tara hoped this was a one time thing.

   She climbed the steps out of the prison, watching the sun rise. 

   Rosita had left just the morning before. Tara wasn’t surprised she wasn’t back, Rosita was the type to get the group to stay and rest before they pushed themselves. She still didn’t like sleeping alone, but got through with the hope the two of them could make up for it when Rosita got back, and then some.

   Tara ran through her duties in town. She checked in on the residents, checked for complaints, and ensured that everyone was handling themselves okay. She could do little else but grimace when households complained about being hungry. It was fall and while the crops were blooming, they did so slowly, shaving off bits and bits of everyone’s rations. 

   Another reason to restart the Coalition, she thought. She’d bring it up to Carl when they talked next.

   She ran home to get a cup of coffee, and drank it as she checked the garden, instructing the attendants to feed the crops more water and making a mental note to search for seeds on the next run. Finally, she made it to the guard posts, scanning the rolling hills past the compound, the emerald green trees that were beginning to turn yellow.

    Tara practically dove off the post when she saw seven dots against the scenery, softly forming into people. She raced down the ladder to open the gates and stood in the center, bouncing on the balls of her feet, waiting for her people to get closer.

   Yumiko and Magna were on either side of Luke, holding him by his arms. Aaron’s arm snaked around Jesus’s arm, holding his wrist. Rosita’s eyes were gaunt, and Kal kept a gentle hand on her back.

   “Babe!” Tara cheered, and pulled Rosita into her arms. Rosita sunk into Tara’s body like she was sinking into a pillow.

   “You really don’t need to hold me up, I’m fine,” Jesus assured sheepishly, his uninjured arm going to squeeze Aaron’s.

   “No, I don’t want you to mess with it,” Aaron insisted, but he was quickly rebuffed as Jesus pulled away to hug Tara.

   “Paul,” Tara sighed, and they all knew she had been scared. She never called Jesus by his real name, not unless things were serious. She let go of Rosita and tackled him in a bear hug.

   “Couldn’t let you run Hilltop into the ground without me,” he smirked, kissing her cheek.

   Tara went to Luke and shook his hand.

   “I’m glad you’re okay. Did they hurt you?”

   He pointed to his crooked nose. “Just a touch.”

   Magna gave Tara a fierce look. “Do you have an infirmary?”

   “Yeah, I’ll bring them in,” Tara assured. “Meet me in the house?” she asked Rosita.

   Rosita blinked, trying to regain focus. 

   “Yeah, sounds good.”

   Tara kissed her, and Rosita fought to hold onto it.

***

   “How are you feeling?” Tara asked Jesus once he had sat down on the infirmary bed.

   “On edge, that’s for sure.” He gripped the side of the bed with his uninjured arm. “Luke was ready to piss himself.”

   Tara rustled through the cabinets looking for sterile thread and a needle.

   “Were you scared?” 

   “A little.” Tara could tell by the way he clipped the sentence that he didn’t want to talk about it. She decided to change the subject.

   “I saw Aaron holding you for dear life. Good thing he went with the search party.” Tara tugged the thread through Jesus’ cut.

   “Fuck, that hurts. Tara, you know I can’t. You know why I can’t.”

   “No, I don’t know why.” She pulled the next stitch through. 

   “Just because you won the lottery-.”

   “There’s no lottery. You get what you go after. Every day I think about if Rosita hadn’t told me she wanted to be with me. My feelings for her would’ve died with me.” Pull. “You’re wasting your time waiting around. You want him. He wants you. Go get him.”

   “But Michonne-.”

   “Is a grown woman who can deal with it. Make a deal with her. You’ve got the runner skills, he’s got the people skills. You could be our mailmen or something, you know. Run things between the settlements.” She finished the stitch.

   “You are a good man who just escaped death. You deserve this. You deserve him.”

    He smiled at her. “What would I do without you, Tara?”

   “I could not tell you. I’m glad you didn’t die." She kissed his forehead. "Come on, we need to get you and Luke together so you can tell us what you saw.”

***

   The seven of them gathered in the planning room of Barrington house. Rosita stood glassy-eyed over the table, gazing at the plans in front of her. Old lists, half-finished letters, blueprint sketches on the recycled paper Maggie taught Jesus how to make, who in turn taught Tara. The pages were like time capsules of all Hilltop had seen in the past six years, with Tara’s slanted scrawl and Jesus’ neat cursive lining them in varying shades of pencil. It gave Rosita something to focus on other than the night she’d just had.

   “Okay, so you were pulled away. What happened after?”

   “These guys, in walker masks took us,” Luke started. “They walked like walkers, even moaned like walkers. But they carried knives and moved like humans.”

   “They asked us what they were doing out there,” Jesus continued. “When we didn’t tell them anything about Hilltop they beat the shit out of us. I really thought that was it.” Aaron winced.

   “Then they just kept us there. Whipped us with switches a couple of times, but didn’t let us die. I think they were baiting you,” Luke finished.

   Tara pressed her hands into the table, furrowing her brow.

   “We’ve dealt with people taking captives before. It’s always a toss up. Negan let Carl live when he showed up to Sanctuary, but the people at Terminus tried to kill us for food. Did you notice anything specific about these people?” she asked.

   “They seemed, nomadic. They had a camp but it was sparse. They hardly spoke, when they did it was brief and quiet. They weren’t scared of the walkers because the walkers didn’t come up to them. They called their leader Alpha, and her right hand man Beta, and they looked like they were ready to pack up and leave any second,” Jesus said, like he was trying to force out the words as fast as possible.

   “Their leader said they’d come through before,” Rosita mentioned, eyes not leaving the table.

   “Jesus, what do you think we should do?” Tara asked.

   “They’re scary, that’s for sure. But we don’t know what they can do, which is good and bad.”

   “It’s mostly bad,” Kal shrugged.

   “Kal, Rosita, we need to increase guard shifts. We need to limit runs as much as we can, at least for the next few weeks. We need to be on high alert, most importantly. We don’t know what we’re dealing with.” She turned to Aaron. “Michonne won’t like this, but you need to hang back here. You can go if you want, I know you have Gracie. But I think you should stay. We don’t know what these people are capable of, what they’ll do. And I don’t want you to get hurt.”

   He gave Tara and Jesus a pained look. 

   “I understand your logic, Tara. But I need to get to my daughter. Especially if these people are out here.”

   “Send out armed guard,” Jesus piped up. 

   Tara and Aaron whipped to face him.

   “What?” Tara asked.

   “Send out Kal and members of the militia to get Michonne, Carl, and Gracie here. Kal knows where these people are, so he can avoid them. We need to reconvene with Michonne now more than ever, and since these people won’t know they’re coming they won’t know to hit them. Kal and some of the militia can keep them safe. Michonne and Carl can head home after we come up with a plan or figure out something, and you and Gracie can stay in Barrington House. Or go back home. But either way we’re in a group.”

   “Doesn’t sound like much of a plan,” Magna argued. “Tara just said we can’t afford to head out.”

   “We can’t,” Tara agreed. “But Aaron needs his daughter. I can’t deny him that. And Jesus is right, this is the final straw. We need to pull the groups back together. Kal, are you okay with going back out?”

   He nodded. “I’ll get some of the army together tonight. And if Michonne doesn’t agree?”

   “Fight like hell. She appreciates passion,” Tara insisted.

   “Are there any other groups we can connect with?” Yumiko asked.

   “I have a passive connection with Oceanside at the moment. I can get word to them. Daryl’s been lingering in Hilltop because Henry’s here, he can get through to Carol. Ezekiel wants to reconnect everyone anyways.”

   “What can we do?” Magna questioned.

   “Good question. Talk to Rosita about guard rotations and where she can put you. We need to up defenses. Luke, can you learn to fight?” He nodded. “Great, you get Kelly and Connie and meet with Rosita for training in the morning.”

   “Hands in the middle. 1…2…3, Hilltop!” Jesus crowed. No one put their hands in the middle.

   “We can cheer when we’re sure everyone is safe,” Tara assured, clapping his shoulder as he hung his head in mock disappointment.

   “Let’s go talk to Kelly and Connie,” Yumiko insisted, waving Magna and Luke along. Kal went to the armory. Aaron and Jesus lingered on their side of the table.

   “Where should I sleep?” Aaron asked Jesus.

   “My bed’s a king size. So you can keep some distance, but there aren’t a lot of rooms open, so it’s probably your best shot-.”

   “Sounds good. Show me where it is?”

   “Yeah um- yeah,” Jesus stammered, leading Aaron towards his room. Tara shot him a wink as he left.

   It was just her and Rosita left. Rosita was still staring at the table.

   “Hey, where are you?”

   “That’s my line,” Rosita chuckled.

   “Babe?” Tara held her arms out, and Rosita sunk into them. 

   “I’m sorry I volunteered you for training, my leader brain just kicked in. If you need me to take it back-.”

   “It’s not that.”

   “Then what is it?” Tara pulled back and looked her in the eyes.

   “Do you ever think about all we’ve done to get here?”

   “Sometimes. Why? Do you?”

   “A lot, yeah. I think about my brother. All these kids that have died. Glenn, who had a baby on the way. Abe. Denise. Maggie’s sister.”

   Rosita sucked in a breath before she spoke again.

   “Sometimes I don’t know why I’m still here.”

   Tara’s face fell, her heart crushing itself.

   “What are you talking about? Rosita-.”

   “These people need you, Tara.” Her voice rose. “You’re a hero. And I’m not. I teach kids to use knives. I tell them they might have to kill. How is that okay? How is any of this okay?”

   “Rosita, why are you talking like this?” Tara brushed a tear off her cheek.

   “There aren’t any heroes, babe. I do what I have to do to survive. To make sure you survive. To make sure my people survive. That doesn’t make me a hero. You train up these kids, you train our army, so we can fight to live. We need you here. I need you. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

   Rosita looked at Tara, at her hazel eyes she had sunken into the day they’d met. Tara still had the same effect on her, hitting Rosita with wave after wave of adoration.

   “The leader of the people in the woods knows who you are. She threatened your life. And I don’t know what to do.”

   Tara stepped back, catching her breath.

   Her life had been at risk before, Rosita knew. Through injury and battle, Tara had brushed death more than once. But Rosita didn’t know how to protect her when the threats against her were so nonspecific, so vague. 

   Tara watched the tears fall from Rosita’s eyes. No wonder she’d been so quiet in the meeting. No wonder she was holding Tara like it was the last time. Tara had been safe for the past six years. Things had been stable. Neither of them wanted to go to war again. But Tara had people to protect. And she had to fight for them, even if it was risky.

   Feet, on the ground. Torso, supported in space. Head, up and looking at Rosita.

    “We’re going to defend Hilltop. And I’m not going to do anything stupid. We’re going to be okay. I’m going to be okay.”

   “How can you be so sure?” Rosita begged.

   “Because the woman I love more than anything in the world made a deal with me. That we would take care of each other. So we’re going to up the defenses and we are going to take this as it comes. I can’t lead Hilltop without my First Lady.” She winked. “We are gonna get through this. We’ll get Michonne on our side, and we’ll take these fuckers out. Okay?”

   Rosita nodded, and sunk into Tara’s arms once more, unable to shake the feeling that something was going to go horribly, horribly, wrong.

Chapter Text

   She woke up nestled in Tara’s chest. Funny how six years ago, occurrences like this were limited to Rosita’s dreams. But now they were regular, and never lost their sweetness.

   Tara’s arms were around her, loose in sleep. Her mouth hung open, but she wasn’t speaking. She was still. No bad dreams.

   Her hair flowed down to her back. Some of the strands crossed over her forehead. Rosita slid out of her arms to adjust it, stroking her hair back out of her eyes. Tara twitched slightly, but sunk back into sleep. 

   Rosita loved to just lay in bed with her. She loved to see her sleeping. She loved that her brain was being gentle, letting her rest. Her mental health had improved so much while living in Hilltop.

   Rosita felt sick with worry. Alpha’s words kept ringing in her head, and even though Tara knew, she didn’t seem scared. She was running things, making plans, just as she always had. Rosita didn’t want her to be scared. She wanted to keep them both in bed so that evil woman could never find them, and if she did, Rosita could keep Tara safe.

   She began to kiss Tara then, softly. The space between her brows. The tip of her nose. The apples of her cheeks. The corner of her lips. To touch her was everything. Rosita was with the kind of person she always wanted, she was always going to cherish her. Especially if their life was about to get as dangerous as it had been before.

   She was pressing her lips to the corner of Tara’s jaw when her eyes fluttered open, taking in the sight of the woman who loved her. This wasn’t the first time Tara had woken up to Rosita’s kisses, but it melted her heart all the same.

   “Rosita?”

   “Baby.” Tears pricked the corners of Rosita’s eyes, fear casting over her features like a shadow.

   “Shhh,” Tara whispered, holding Rosita close. “I’m gonna be okay. You’re the one who’s gonna be training. I should worry about you.”

   “She threatened you,” Rosita insisted, pulling Tara closer.

   “I’ve almost died a few times, Rosita. I’m not scared. If anything happens to me-.”

   “Tara-.”

   “It might. Hilltop will be okay. You will be okay. I can’t be scared, Rosita. I have people to protect.”

   Rosita knew. She knew all of this. Tara was too selfless to be only Rosita’s. Even with Jesus back, with a new threat, Tara needed to be on high alert.

   “Can we stay here for a bit?”

   “Of course.” Tara leaned down to kiss her forehead.

   Rosita moved her hand under Tara’s shirt, tracing her sternum. Tara melted into her touch, skin tingling where Rosita’s hands went. She rubbed circles on Rosita’s back, massaging as she moved down the crook of her spine.

   Rosita’s fingers snaked up Tara’s ribs, just barely feeling their indents through her skin. Just ribs and a sternum. That was all that was protecting Tara’s heart. Rosita didn’t think it should be that easy to get to what kept her alive. She wanted to build another set of bones around Tara’s lungs so she could keep her safe. 

   “Beautiful,” Tara sighed, holding Rosita’s hands through the fabric of her shirt, stroking the raised bumps of her knuckles, the slender shape of her fingers. It didn’t matter she couldn’t feel her skin right then, she could see Rosita if she was blind, she could hear her if she was deaf. She would know her anywhere, she had her memorized like a favorite song. “You’re so beautiful.”

   Rosita pulled her hands out from Tara’s shirt, cupped her cheeks, and kissed her.

***

   So, you use a slingshot? Rosita signed.

   Connie nodded. Kelly taught me.

   I want to keep you towards the front so I can make commands easily. Are you okay with learning how to use weapons close up?

   I have some experience with a sword. If Kelly is near me when you’re commanding, she can translate, Connie signed.

   Whatever works for you. I just don’t want you to get lost in anything.

   Yumiko and Kelly can stay in the back, Yumiko is good with a bow. They can help me.

   Sounds good, Rosita finished. Connie smiled at her and went to explain the setup to Kelly.

   “Are you gonna want me in the front?” Magna asked, brandishing her knife, the hilt glinting in the sun.

   “When we have you on patrols, yes, you’ll be towards the front. I think we can keep Connie, Yumiko, and Kelly in the towers. Luke, what do you want to do?”

   “Magna’s showed me how to use a knife. I’d like that.”

   “Okay, we’ll keep you two on the ground. Usually we’d take everyone for trials with the walkers, but Tara and Jesus think we should stay in. So today we’ll focus on technique.”

   “Hey!” Kal called, readying a wagon. “Let’s go. If we leave early, we can make it to Alexandria by nightfall.”

   Three soldiers piled in the wagon, clambering in the back seat. 

   “Be back by nightfall,” Rosita insisted. Kal shot her a thumbs up.

***

   “Do you just teach the adults to fight?” Magna inquired after they’d finished their practice.

   “No. Every other day I teach the kids. Knife work, easier stuff.” Rosita oiled the blade of her knife, polishing it until it shone like glass.

   “Have any of them had to…”

   “Not these ones.”

   “Hey!” Yumiko reached Magna, kissing her cheek. “What are we talking about?”

   “Do you two want to come in for a drink?” Rosita asked suddenly, hardly realizing the words had come from her mouth.

   Magna and Yumiko shot each other looks, and Yumiko turned to Rosita.

   “That sounds alright. Will Tara mind?”

   “She’s going around town. But if she comes home and you guys are there, she’s not going to be upset. Call it community outreach.”

   “That makes us sound like prisoners,” Yumiko scoffed. Magna flinched.

   “Sorry. There’s a reason she leads this place and I don’t.”

   Jesus and Aaron were lingering on a couch in the main room of Barrington House when they all came in. Rosita noticed their entwined hands and made a mental note to let Tara know when she got back from inspecting the town.

   Rosita rifled through their kitchen cabinet, producing a bottle of amber liquid.

   “Tara doesn’t drink. I don’t either, but it’s a special occasion.” She took out three glasses, embossed with the Barrington coat of arms.

   “What’s the occasion?” Magna drawled.

   “I felt like it.” All three of them laughed.

   “You’re worried about her,” Yumiko remarked as she took her glass.

   “Who, Tara?”

   “That’s who Alpha threatened, right?”

   Rosita took a hearty sip of her drink. It went down easily, easier than she expected after not drinking for so long.

   “Yeah. She says everything will be fine. I have to trust her. She’d do anything for this town.” It was easy to open up to Magna and Yumiko. Both were honest, both were easy to read. 

   “How’d you two end up together?” Yumiko asked.

   Rosita smiled when she thought back on the story, all of that longing seemed to be centuries ago. 

   “Our groups collided on the road. We spent more and more time together, and before I knew it-” Rosita waved her hand. “-we’d fallen in love. I’d fallen, at least. I wasn’t sure about her. She almost left our old compound and went to Hilltop and it would’ve been over for us, but I finally grew a spine and told her.”

   “You two are sweet,” Magna said softly, taking a sip of her drink.

   “How did you two get together?”

   Yumiko gently squeezed Magna’s shoulder.

   “I was her criminal lawyer. She was accused of a crime she didn’t commit, and I was the one who worked her case.”

   “Oldest story in the book,” Rosita cracked. “You were a lawyer, Yumiko?”

   Yumiko beamed with pride. “I was. Studied at Oxford, then I came to the States to go to Harvard. My parents pushed my brother and I to succeed, so I became a lawyer, and he became a surgeon.”

   “Where is your brother?” Rosita set down her glass and leaned down, resting her head on her hands.

   The look of accomplishment on her face fell away, and Yumiko pursed her lips, gaze sinking to the table. Magna stroked her shoulder and Yumiko righted herself.

   “Miko, you don’t need to-.”

   “No. We lost contact when I moved. No big fallout, he just stopped calling. Stopped trying. I don’t think he meant to. Mom and Dad were never in good health, things probably just got complicated.”

   “That doesn’t make it easy. I’m sorry.”

   “It’s okay, Rosita. Truly. It helps to talk about.”

   She wiped her eyes. “Did you have any siblings?”

   Rosita’s stomach twisted. Talking about Diego got easier the more often she did it with Tara, but it was never a walk in the park.

   “My brother. He died when he was eleven, when I was thirteen. He’s like Tara, he felt the need to take care of everything and everyone, make sure everything was alright. But he lost his hearing, which made it hard for him to be independent because people could be real assholes about deaf kids, especially a Hispanic deaf kid, so he relied on me for basically everything.”

   “That’s why you’re so tough,” Magna whispered.

   “I don’t like to think about it like that. He’s my brother. I’d do anything for him.”

   “Of course you would,” Magna agreed. “But it doesn’t mean it didn’t shape you.”

   “I worked at a diner,” Magna continued. “And the men there were horrid. They said things to me, looked at me. Some even tried to put their hands on me. And I never want to go through that again. I would never want to. But if I don’t take what I can from what’s happened to me, if I don’t use what I had to learn, it’s a disservice to the woman I used to be. I can’t pretend it didn’t make me who I am, because it happened to me. Not everything is a lesson, but you can learn from almost anything. And I learned not to let anyone fuck with me, not ever again.”

   “Why are you telling me this?” Rosita asked.

   “Because I trust you. And because I want you to know that I like you, Rosita. We both do.” Yumiko nodded in assent. “We would like to be friends with you.”

   “She’s never this open,” Yumiko confirmed.

   Rosita shrugged. “I would like to. Tara’s always telling me I need more friends.”

   Almost as if on cue, Tara bustled through the door, slightly sweaty from a long day outside.

   “Good news. Wall looks steady, and I noticed you have some patrols out already. Thank you, babe,” she explained, kissing Rosita. “We’ve got guests?”

   “If you’ll have us,” Yumiko grinned. 

   Tara grinned back. 

   “I’ll make dinner.”

***

   Magna and Yumiko didn’t leave until late into the night. 

   “Didn’t realize we were having a dinner party on the precipice of war,” Tara cracked.

   “I like them,” Rosita insisted, wiping down the counter.

   “I do too. We can’t forget what makes us people, after all.” With that she pulled in Rosita by her hips, kissing her neck.

   “Stop, stop! That tickles,” Rosita giggled, pulling Tara off of her. “Let’s get to bed.”

   They crossed from the kitchen into the living room, immediately walking in on Aaron and Jesus, completely lip-locked, Jesus’ hand on Aaron’s neck and Aaron’s arm slung around Jesus’ back. They pulled away when they saw Rosita slap her palm over her mouth and Tara collapse in a guffaw.

   “Can a guy get some privacy? Jesus!”

   “You missed the gays only dinner party in the kitchen,” Tara joked, stifling a lap.

   “Hey! I’m-.”

   “Bisexual, I know. Sorry babe, I was using gay as an umbrella term.” She made an I-see-you motion with her fingers towards Jesus. “You are going to tell me everything tomorrow.”

   He flipped them both off and Tara cackled, leading Rosita into their bedroom. 

Chapter Text

   “You’re worried about Gracie.”

   Jesus said it plainly as he took Aaron’s hand in his. 

   Aaron tried to scoff, but knew it was impossible to brush off what he felt. He was worried. He didn’t like being away from his daughter on a good day, and the new group who had taken Jesus just made his fears worse.

   “You know I can’t help it.”

   “I know.” Jesus gave his hand a squeeze. “But Kal’s out there to go get her. He’s capable, he’s going to bring her here safely. And he’s handsome.” Jesus added that last part like an afterthought, but it made Aaron cringe.

   Noticing this, Jesus jumped to assure him.

   “Aw, don’t worry. I like my guys with hair like steel wool.”

   “What?” Aaron scoffed, blushing at what he had insinuated.

   “Yknow, how it’s all curly,” Jesus explained, absentmindedly stroking a hand through Aaron’s hair. He stopped short when he realized what he was doing, how tender it all was. But Aaron didn’t seem to mind.

   “So you like guys like me?” Aaron clarified.

   “Oh yeah. Big buff family men with only one hand. Just my type.”

   “Well, good thing I like guys with hair out of a shampoo commercial,” Aaron flirted, to Jesus’ laughter.

   “Tara tells me I need to quit beating around the bush,” Jesus sighed, resting his arm around Aaron’s back.

   “And she’s right. I’ve been waiting for you to say something,” Aaron shrugged.

   “Aaron. Things are dicey between Hilltop and Alexandria, and I’m not good at staying home, and you have Gracie-.”

   “I used to travel, too. For Alexandria,” Aaron cut him off. Jesus softened at the fact that Aaron wanted this as much as he did.

   “Tara mentioned making a deal with Michonne. We can handle traveling between the communities, passing along information and supplies. We can live on the road, and Gracie can come with us, if she’s okay with me. And we’ll stay in town so she can be around the kids…” Jesus trailed off. “Sorry.”

   “You’ve thought about this,” Aaron replied pensively.

   “You’re the only man I’ve wanted to build something with,” Jesus whispered. “You’re good, Aaron. You’re an incredible person. And if you want me, if you want this, I’m all yours.”

   “First Rosita and Tara, now me. Michonne is gonna be pissed,” Aaron chuckled.

   “If she doesn’t agree we can pull back-.”

   “No. Our communities need to come back together. Everything you and Tara talk about, it’s right.” Aaron cupped Jesus’ face with his prosthetic hand. It was a little clumsily done and the metal was cold, but it didn’t matter that it wasn’t skin. It was still Aaron.

   “You want me?” Jesus asked, heart still aching in disbelief.

   “I want you.” Aaron grabbed Jesus by his cheeks, and after getting a nod of approval, leaned in to kiss him. Jesus’ mouth was soft and had a lingering taste of instant coffee, he drank it so much he had a permanent coffee breath. Aaron wanted to get used to it.

   “What made you so sure?” Jesus asked when he pulled away.

   “It’s cliche, but almost losing you is what did it. When I saw you get taken- I thought of Eric. How I’d give anything to be with him again before he died. And I realized I loved you, and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be with someone I loved because I could lose you at any second.” Aaron’s voice cracked as he said the name of his late husband, but he held strong.

   “It is cliche,” Jesus smirked. “But I like cliches.” He gave Aaron another kiss, and they kept kissing, until they were interrupted by Rosita and Tara, Rosita with her hand over her mouth and Tara with a teasing yet proud look on her face.

***

   Tara was on her way to let Henry out of his cell when Enid scurried up to her.

   “They’re here.”

   Enid had been spending a lot of time in the infirmary, she was the one to set Luke’s nose back into place. She was the perfect mix of Jesus and Tara, nomadic when she felt like it and a homebody when she felt like it. Tara could see Enid making a perfect leader for Hilltop someday, although Enid was only about ten years younger than Tara. Maybe she’d lead alongside her if Jesus was serious about traveling with Aaron.

   She used to be a squirrelly little kid with downcast eyes and a mouth that was always set in a silent determination. Carl softened her when he got to Alexandria, Tara knew they had shared a few kisses and trusted each other. But whatever was romantic fell away when Rick died. Enid clung to Hilltop like never before and Carl sunk himself into managing affairs his father had once taken care of.

   Carl had wanted to hold the communities together. Michonne wouldn’t have it. They took Rick’s death differently, the both of them. Michonne focused entirely on the safety of Judith and later RJ, especially after the event that nearly killed them both. When it became clear the most consistent contact Carl would have with Hilltop were his and Tara’s visits, he focused on keeping Alexandria afloat with Michonne. He grew up, so did Enid. 

   Enid had become softer, warmer. She liked working in the infirmary, having picked up some knowledge from Siddiq after Carl saved him. Her and Tara didn’t talk daily the way Tara and Jesus did, but there was a mutual trust and understanding. And Tara could read Enid like a book. For example, the blush that laced her cheeks proved that Carl had come to Hilltop.

   “Daddy!” Gracie cheered, hopping out of the wagon into Aaron’s arms. Carl grinned and hopped down to hug Tara, then Enid. Michonne was stiff in the wagon, next to a girl with a mud-smeared face and dark brown hair that Tara couldn’t recognize.

   “Michonne, hey!” Tara called.

   “Where’s Rosita?” Michonne responded coldly.

   “Training. You can talk to me. What’s up?”

   Michonne climbed out of the wagon, keeping her grip on the girl. Daryl came to the gates. He’d been lingering around the cell where Henry had been, and followed Tara when he saw her go with Enid to meet Michonne.

   “What’s the purpose of bringing us here?” Michonne demanded.

   “Listen, I know it’s not ideal. But we need to talk. There’s a new threat-.”

   “Surely you and Rosita can handle it. You didn’t need to drag Carl and I out of the house.”

   “Mom,” Carl argued. “Listen to her.”

   “Daryl, why are you here?” Michonne asked.

   “Keepin’ an eye on Carol’s boy. Already got locked up for getting drunk.”

   “Can you lock her up with him?” Michonne insisted, motioning to the terrified girl next to her.

   “You’re not going to lock up some child we don’t know in my prison,” Tara argued.

   “You want to talk? This girl is dangerous. We’ll keep her locked up until we’re done talking, or she’s coming back to Alexandria.”

   Tara huffed. “Fine.” She tossed the cell keys to Daryl. “But be gentle.”

   “See if you can talk to her, and yes. Be gentle,” Michonne conceded. She turned back to Tara. “Let’s talk.”

***

   “So why did you bring me here?”

   “Why did you bring the girl here?”

   “You were the one who went out of your way to get me here, having Kal give a speech to get me in the wagon. You can answer my question first.” Michonne sat back, taking a sip of coffee.

   Tara sighed.

   “There’s a new threat to Hilltop.” Tara began to give the speech she had practiced in the mirror the night before. “They kidnapped Jesus and Luke. Beat them pretty bad, and they’ve apparently been stalking us enough to describe me.”

   “You’re sure they’re not just bandits?” Carl asked gently. “We’ve had a few run through. Doesn’t make it much better, but we don’t know if they’re organized.”

   “I haven’t seen them,” Tara admitted. “It was Rosita. But the way she describes them, they were people, but dressed like walkers. Nomads. Ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”

   Michonne’s mouth sunk open in fear, a wave of realization hitting her. Carl grabbed her shoulder, squeezing it until his knuckles turned white.

   He ran his prosthetic hand through his hair, only feeling the sensation in his scalp.

   “Tara, did these people talk to each other? Did the walkers come up to them?” he asked, almost scared to get the words out.

   “Rosita said they whispered. And no, the walkers didn’t go up to them.”

   “It can’t be,” Michonne stammered.

   “It has to be.” He let go of Michonne and faced Tara, planting his hands into the table and furrowing his brow.

   “That’s where the girl we were with came from. She was with these people who dressed like the walkers. We killed them, all of them, except her. She was begging for mercy, and I couldn’t.”

   “That’s why we wanted to lock her away. I nearly lost Judith and RJ a few years ago because of kids who were taught to kill on instinct. I couldn’t let her run free,” Michonne explained. 

   “I understand,” Tara assured. “Hopefully we can talk to her. Figure something out. But Michonne, that’s why I wanted you here. There’s only so much time before these people get to the Kingdom, to Oceanside. Six years has been long enough. We need the Coalition back.”

   “Tara, I lost my husband. Carl lost his father, because he was trying to bring us back together. It is too much of a risk.” Michonne was calm, but her voice rose with every word.

   “We have lost people too. I wouldn’t be talking to you if I didn’t think it was worth it to give this a shot. I miss Rick, I always will, but we need to keep his dream alive.”

   “His dream is what killed him!”

   “Mom!” Carl slammed his hand on the table. “You know that’s not true! It can’t be!” He gritted his teeth and stared her down, one good eye peering through his glasses.

   “If he died, it’s because this dream is worth dying for. I’m the last person who wants Judith or RJ to get hurt. But Tara’s right. We are stronger together. You remember how things were on the road, we wouldn’t have lived without each other. We can do that again.”

   “There are good people here, Michonne,” Tara insisted, grabbing Michonne’s hand. “The group you brought in are already taking up arms to protect this place. We can bring our communities back together. We can be a united front again.”

   “It’s not that I want things to be harder, Tara.” Michonne leaned down on the table, pressing the pads of her fingers into her eyelids. “I don’t know where to start.”

   “Aaron and Jesus got together. I think they’d be willing to travel between communities and foster communication. Aaron has the people skills, Jesus has the fighting skills. It’s a baby step, but if we have designated communication, we can start somewhere.”

   “Mom, we need to give it a chance. You tell me I’m not a little boy anymore, I never really was. And you’re right. I know what it takes to survive out here, and you do too.” Carl brushed a kiss on Michonne’s temple. “This is how we build a future.”

   Michonne pursed her lips and looked at the boy she considered her son. She looked at Tara, whom she’d never had a perfect relationship with, but who she knew was a tough leader in her own right, who would do anything for the people she governed.

   “I’ll talk to Aaron. You two can travel between Alexandria and Hilltop for the next few months, communicating basic needs the communities have and how the others can help. We’ll see how that goes, and move from there. Is that a compromise?” Michonne’s voice was gentle yet firm. She commanded Tara’s respect completely, since the day they’d met. And it was never more clear to Tara than it was right then how important it was to keep these communities intact.

   “Compromise.” Tara stuck out her fist, first letting Michonne bump it, then letting Carl, with whom she shared a subtle nod, both of them rejoicing in the knowledge that the dream they shared of the Coalition was coming true.

Chapter Text

   “Fine! You don’t wanna answer me, you can stay!” Daryl slammed the door leading to the cells.

   The girl, Lydia, curled herself tight in the corner of her cell. Daryl had demanded a story of life with the Whisperers, but years of trauma and abuse made it difficult for her to express her stories clearly. Daryl didn’t like being mean to the kid, but he knew it would stoke Henry’s compassion and maybe he could get something out of her. He was Carol’s son, after all.

   He crouched down to the vent so he could hear them speak.

***

   “Tara!” 

   Michonne, Carl, and Tara whipped around to see a disheveled Kal,  breath heaving as he stood in the doorway.

   “They’re here.”

   “Who’s here?” Tara demanded, rising from the table.

   “The people from the woods. Rosita’s already at the guard post. You need to move quickly.”

   Tara got up from the table and waved Carl and Michonne to follow. Carl’s hand went to the handle of his father’s gun.

   She hustled up to the guard post where Rosita was, Michonne stayed close behind. When they saw the army laid out in front of them, Michonne gasped.

   “She said it was just her and her mom.”

   There was an army of about twenty or thirty, all of them dressed in the same grotesque masks Rosita had seen in the forest. Alpha stood at the front, the only one with her mask off.

   “You there, in the green. You have something I want,” she seethed, pointing to Tara.

   Tara gripped the railing of the guard post.

   “What are you talking about?” she called back down.

   “Get down here so I can have a look at you.”

   Rosita put her arm in front of Tara. “I swear to fucking God-.”

   “I won’t kill her if she plays nice.” Alpha grinned a sickening grin, revealing chipped black teeth. 

   Tara turned to Rosita, who had grabbed her and was holding her by her front. Quickly, she glanced outside the gate, looking down against the wall. Rosita followed her gaze, and saw a figure with brown hair.

   “Carl snuck on the other side. I’ll be okay,” Tara whispered. She kissed Rosita’s cheek and started down the ladder.

   She motioned for Kal to open the gates once she made it to the ground, standing face-to-face with Alpha.

   “If you touch her, I will gut you until you’re unrecognizable. Got it?” Rosita growled from her place behind Tara.

   “I won’t hurt your pretty little girlfriend,” Alpha drawled. “Usually I don’t do this, but I showed your people mercy in the forest. Now it’s your turn to show mercy to me. You have my daughter locked up. I would like her back. No trouble. Think of it as a trade for your people I spared.” Alpha’s voice was like a mass of snakes, slithering through the open air and choking the people around her. Tara was stiff.

   It immediately became clear to her and Rosita that that was who Michonne had brought in. Tara turned to Rosita, the two of them shared an imperceptible nod, and Tara turned back.

   “Promise to leave my people and I alone. I’ll bring your daughter out right now.”

   As Tara went to the prison, Rosita brandished her knife, making sure Alpha could see every curve of it, the clean edges that could turn her flesh to ribbons.

   “You don’t scare me, sweetheart. But you’d do anything for that woman, wouldn’t you?” Alpha teased, voice dripping with venom. 

   Rosita’s lungs constricted, and she burst to attack Alpha, halted only by Kal diving in front of her, grabbing her shoulders.

   “Just let Tara get the kid and they’ll all be gone,” Kal muttered.

   “You’re fucking right I’d do anything for her.” Rosita pushed off from Kal’s grip and stepped away from Alpha.

   “I see walkers!” Michonne called from her place in the guard tower. She looked to Alpha. “You may want to get your people on guard.”

   Alpha cocked her head. “They don’t bother us.”

   Somewhere in the mass of people, a baby wailed.

   Children? Rosita thought to herself. These monsters have children?

   “Do you have babies with you?” Michonne demanded.

   Alpha scowled. “One of us does. We follow nature, childbearing is part of that.” Her head snapped to the woman with the baby, whom was bawling. 

   It was hard to tell who were walkers and who were Whisperers, but Rosita noticed figures ambling towards the woman with the baby. She felt a tug towards the child, like a magnet in her stomach. It let out another wail, tiny lungs struggling under fear and panic. 

   Rosita shut her eyes.

   “Why does he cry so much? He’s not a newborn anymore.”

   “He’s a fighter. Like you.”

   Her mother’s warm smile washed over them both as she held the boy Rosita would spend the next ten years protecting.

   She opened them and tried to snap out of the memory. 

   She knew screams. She knew noise.

   Diego when they had to write it down on paper that he wasn’t getting his hearing back, because he wouldn’t understand them otherwise.

   Maggie when Glenn died and when Negan didn’t.

   Michonne when the bridge blew up.

   Tara, screaming Rosita’s name as she tried to climb out of a nightmare that had convinced her of the worst.

   “Leave him,” Alpha commanded.

   The woman gave her a pleading look, then laid the baby to rest in the field.

   “No!” Rosita howled before she could stop herself.

   Yumiko and Connie shot at the walkers from their respective guard posts. 

   All Rosita could look at was the baby.

   White cloth. Green grass. Hunched figures headed towards the noise.

   Tara burst from around the building, followed by Daryl.

   “Your daughter escaped. I can find her, give us until the evening, please.”

   “I’ll make you bleed if she’s not here when the sun sets.”

   The wailing stopped, but Rosita couldn’t hear or see much of anything anymore. Her vision swam.

   “Tara, what’s going on?” It was Jesus, followed by Aaron.

   “I need to leave. Daryl’s coming with me. I’ll be back tonight.”

   And Rosita didn’t know anything after that.

***

   She was back inside the Savior compound. She killed just as many if not more than she did the first time. When she got home she tried to scrub the blood off her hands, but it wouldn’t leave her.

   She was in the woods, killing walkers, and every one grabbed her wrist and told her their life story, everyone who had loved them while they were alive. 

   She was back in the woods. Abraham sunk in the dirt, followed by Glenn. They were all out there because Denise hit the ground first, and Rosita wouldn’t have it. 

   She led the kids she trained against the walkers and they all dropped like flies. Dead and undead mixed until Rosita couldn’t tell them apart anymore.

   She came home and Tara was dead. Every time Rosita touched her she left bloody fingerprints on her body. Her face, her hands, her arms were coated in crimson that wouldn’t chip, wouldn’t wash, wouldn’t leave.

   So much death. So much war. So much fighting and it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t enough.

   “Rosita?”

***

   It wasn’t Tara. It was Jesus.

   She sat up on the couch.

   “Is Tara okay?” she pleaded.

   “As far as I know. She went to get the kid. I put Michonne up in a spare trailer for the night. Things are too dicey to send her out right now.”

   Rosita nodded, wiping her eyes. She checked her hands, they were clean.

   “You okay?” Jesus asked, putting his hand on her shoulder.

   She nodded. “Weird dream.”

   “I heard you talking.”

   She looked at him.

   “I keep thinking about my brother. Everyone I’ve lost. Abe, Glenn, Denise, Rick. They’re all gone. Abe was one of the toughest men I knew, Glenn was one of the smartest, Denise was one of the kindest, Rick was one of the bravest. My brother was all four of those things.”

   Jesus nodded solemnly. He hadn’t known them as well as Rosita had, but he knew loss all the same.

   “And somehow, in the middle of all of this, I’m still alive. And so is Tara. I’ve spent the last nine, ten years trying to protect her. But now we’re going back to war. She’s going to do what it takes to keep Hilltop safe. And I’m worried it won’t be enough. That all I’m going to be left with is blood on my hands, and I’ll lose her anyways.”

   “Why do you feel like you have to protect her?”

   Rosita sighed.

   “I love her more than anything in the world. And because of that, I know the kind of person she is. She’ll throw herself into danger if it means Hilltop is safe, she’s doing that now.”

   “You’re not the only person watching her back, Rosita,” Jesus reminded her, calmly.

   “I know. But I’m still going to protect her like I am.”

   Jesus stood up and squeezed her shoulder.

   “That’s why you freaked out about that baby? You don’t want anyone else to die?”

   “I don’t want any more noise. I just want to stay here with Tara.”

   “Then love her for as long as she’s here.” With that, he left the room.

***

   “Found the girl,” Tara muttered, collapsing on the couch next to Rosita hours later.

   “Isn’t that a good thing?”

   Tara shook her head, sinking her skull into her hands. Rosita put her hand on her back.

   “I overheard her and Henry. He’s the one who broke her out. Apparently her mom treats her like shit. I didn’t want to give her back, but Daryl convinced me. For Hilltop’s sake.” She huffed. “Some days I’d do anything to not care so goddamn much.”

   “Of course you care. It’s what I love about you.”

   She kissed Rosita’s forehead. “Don’t worry about me. You’re the one who fainted. I didn’t want to leave you, but Jesus promised me he had it.”

   “Sorry, I got overwhelmed,” Rosita murmured, shaking her head.

   “Overwhelmed with what?”

   Rosita opened her mouth to speak, but they were cut off by Carl entering, with a bundle in his arms.

   “Sorry to interrupt.” He walked closer.

   “I talked to Jesus, he said it’s too soon with him and Aaron and they already have Gracie, so I wanted to talk to you two.” He passed the bundle to Rosita.

   She gasped softly when she realized what, or who, she was holding.

   A blonde haired baby boy, swaddled in white cloth. The one from the field.

   “I ran out and saved him when I was on the other side,” Carl explained. “I was wondering if you two would like to take him in.”

   It was a sight to behold. Carl held a baby like it was what his hands were meant to do, it was instinctual for him. He had taken care of Judith for so long on the road, the muscle memory kicked in. He was twenty-two, but for a fleeting second, Rosita thought he was thirteen again.

   “Can we have the night?” Tara asked.

   Carl nodded. “Of course. I mean, you’re the leader of this place. I’m sure you could figure something out if you two aren’t ready.” He passed the baby to Rosita, and deciding to give them some privacy, gently shut the door.

   Rosita stroked the baby’s cheek with her finger, careful not to scratch him. He cooed at her, grabbing her finger with a tiny hand.

   Tara moved as close to Rosita as she could, taking some of the baby in her arms.

   “He likes you,” Tara grinned. “I’m not sure he’ll let go of you.”

   “I always wanted a baby,” Rosita whispered. “I haven’t thought about it for the past decade, but now-.”

   “Lily was the one who wanted kids. I thought if I ever did I could go to a clinic or something. Obviously that’s gone out the window, but I wanted to. If I ever found the right person.” She looked at Rosita and took her hand.

   “We could have a son,” Tara whispered after some moments. “I know things are dicey, but life still happens. And if you don’t want to, I won’t force you to. But if you want to-.”

   “Do you want to?” Rosita asked, holding the baby closer.

   “I do. With you.”

   “Why me?”

   Tara chuckled. “I hope you’re not seriously asking that after we’ve been together for six years.”

   “Well I’d like to know,” Rosita smirked.

   “Because you’re tough, and passionate. And sweet. You’re good with the kids you train and you know what it takes to live in this world. Because I love you more than anyone, and I want to love this kid with you more than anyone. Why me?”

   Rosita gazed at Tara, whose eyes were already watching the baby’s breathing.

   “You were good with Carl when he was growing up. You’re funny and blunt and I can already see us playing good-cop-bad-cop. And you’re protective and know how to prioritize, you know how to get hard things done.”

   Tara stroked Rosita’s cheek, looking up from the baby only briefly.

   “You’ve thought about this.”

   Rosita shrugged. “I might’ve.”

   “Rosita, are we going to raise a child together?”

   “I think you know the answer.”

   Tara chuckled, then kissed Rosita firmly. 

   “He needs a name,” Tara stated, taking the baby into her arms, holding him up to face her. “Don’t you, big boy?” He cooed and laughed, making Tara break out in a grin.

   “Any ideas?”

   “Finley?” Tara suggested.

   “Finley?” Rosita confirmed.

   “That’s what Lily wanted to name a boy, if she had one.”

   Rosita looked at the baby, stroking his hair. “I like Finley.”

   “He’ll need a middle name.”

   Rosita paused, thinking carefully.

   “Diego?” 

   Tara smiled softly.

   “Finley Diego Chambler-Espinosa?”

   Rosita thought of her last name next to Tara’s. She wondered if they would’ve gotten married before everything went to shit. If they could get married now. They’d never talked about it.

   It was such a strange time to adopt a child, when Rosita had never been more scared of losing Tara. When she had never felt so guilty of everything she’d done to keep Tara. But she remembered what Jesus had said. She had to love Tara while she was still alive.

   So that was what she would do.

   “Finley Diego Chambler-Espinosa. He’s all ours.”

Chapter Text

**Six Years Ago**

   “Ready to leave?” Rosita asked Tara, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

   “Yeah, hang on. Give me one second, Carl promised me a comic before I left.” Tara kissed Rosita’s cheek and rushed back to Michonne’s house she shared with the children.

   She went to the back door, testing the handle. They didn’t lock doors very frequently in Alexandria, unless former Saviors came around. Sure enough, the handle twisted open and Tara crept inside the house.

   “She’s leaving. Her and Tara are leaving.”

   “They’re adults, Michonne. You can’t keep them here.”

   Tara prayed the muffled voices of Carl and Michonne would be enough to cover the sounds of her footsteps. She inched up the stairs and made it to Michonne’s bedroom, which had been Rick’s as well before he died. She sunk to the ground to look under the bed, pressing her cheek to the wooden floor.

   When she found what she was looking for, she closed her hand on it and pulled it out from under the bed.

   It was a roll of thick paper, bound with twine. Written on the inside was the community charter, with rules written to govern them all and keep all four communities working together. There were spaces below the laws for the leaders of each community to sign their agreement.

   On the back a note was written in loopy cursive:

   This is for a dream worth having, now let’s make it come true. I believe in you, Rick.

   -Ezekiel

   She remembered Carl’s words. She carried Rick’s influence in her heart. And she knew that as the leader of Hilltop, part of bringing the Coalition back together was going to fall on her. So she’d make it happen.

   Tara stuffed the roll into her pack, trying to make as little noise as possible. Once it was secured, she snuck back downstairs to rejoin Rosita.

***

**Two Weeks Before The Fair**

   Tara rolled out the charter before Rachel, Ezekiel, and Carl.

   They were in her and Carl’s spot in the woods. A swath of clearing with a few logs loosely arranged for seating.

   “We’re gonna get this done?” Rachel asked, eyeing Tara.

   “Do you want to?” Tara asked.

   “Yes.”

   “Ezekiel?” Tara confirmed.

   “As you know, the fair has been a priority to me for some time. I want to see the communities joined. I only ask, will Lady Michonne consent?”

   “She will,” Carl assured. 

***

   “Connie and I brought the girl here,” Daryl grunted as Tara met him at the fair.

   Henry had snuck out the night they gave Lydia over to the Whisperers. Daryl and Connie went after them both and brought them back to Hilltop. Tara had little interest in seeking out the Whisperers to give Lydia back, but they had been surprisingly quiet.

   “Thank you, Daryl. Really” Tara commended. “I don’t know if I could’ve lived with myself if she had stayed with them.”

   “Then why were you gonna?”

   He walked away before she could answer him.

   She stroked Finley’s hair. He was bound close to her body, swaddled tight. 

   “Are the leaders really getting together today?” Rosita asked.

   “I told Ezekiel I have the charter.”

   “Michonne will agree?”

   “She will. I promise. Let’s enjoy the fair.” Tara leaned in and kissed Rosita, careful not to crush Finley between them.

   “Never thought you’d be able to take a kid to the fair in this world,” Rosita chuckled. 

   “We’re lucky in a lot of ways,” Tara smiled.

   Ezekiel had wanted to hold a community fair for a while. He saw it as a way to get the compounds to start working together and trading again. It also gave them all a chance to reunite.

   Eugene was the second to find Tara and Rosita after Daryl. 

   “Hey big guy,” Rosita greeted, kissing his cheek. 

   “Rosita, Tara, it is very nice to see the two of you are going strong. Is this little tyke yours?”

   “That’s Finley. We adopted him.” Tara beamed with pride.

   “Finley Diego Chambler-Espinosa,” Rosita boasted.

   “Strapping name for a strapping boy. May I?”

   Tara untied the swaddle from around her back and passed the boy into Eugene’s arms. Finley cooed and clapped at Eugene, making the older man smile proudly.

   “He’s got your grin, Tara. I am aware he’s not biologically yours, but-.”

   “That doesn’t matter,” Rosita scoffed.

   “No, it doesn’t. Not one bit,” Eugene asserted.

   “Tia Rosita! Aunt Tara!”

   Judith bustled over to the two of them, diving in Rosita’s arms.

   “Hi Judith.” Rosita squeezed Judith tight. Judith pulled away and gave Tara a fist bump.

   “It’s good to have everyone together.” Carl approached from behind and picked up Judith, setting her on his shoulders. She wriggled as he held her tight, planting his hands firmly into her legs to keep her steady.

   “It really is,” Tara assented.

   “Ezekiel wants the leaders together in about an hour. Is that okay?”

   “That’s perfect,” Tara confirmed. “Rosita can come too, right?”

   “I expect nothing less.” Carl gave Tara a smirk and a wink.

   “Can I see the baby?” Judith begged.

   Rosita plucked Finley from Eugene’s arms and held him up so he was in both Carl and Judith’s line of sight.

  “He’s so cute!” Judith squealed.

   “I’m glad you two kept him,” Carl nodded.

   “We are too.” Rosita passed Finley back to Tara, who tied him back in the swaddle across her chest.

   “Carl, hey!” 

   “Enid!” Tara rushed over to greet the girl.

   She hugged Tara, and turned to Carl with a grin on her face.

   “Wanna walk around for a bit?”

   He looked like a lovesick puppy, face burning red at her invitation.

   “Sure, yeah. Sounds good. Let’s go, Judith.”

   “See you later Carl!” Tara teased.

   “It’s about damn time,” Rosita sighed, clapping Tara’s shoulder. 

   “Bet they said the same about us. Come on, let’s show off our kid.”

   “And mingle with the communities,” Rosita reminded her, pecking her cheek.

   “And mingle with the communities,” Tara huffed in mock frustration. 

   She was happy with the fair. Unification had been accomplished, even if it took some time. She grabbed Rosita’s hand and they began to move throughout the fair.

   She saw the girl Daryl had brought back running around with Henry. She saw Carl and Enid walking together, Judith walking next to Carl. She saw Eugene explaining some of the technology implemented to the kids of the communities. 

   If this was what she would see the rest of her life, Tara was happy with it.

***

   Tara rolled out the charter on the solid oak table.

   “Here it is, folks. What we’ve been dreaming of.”

   “So what exactly is the charter again?” Michonne clarified.

   “A promise,” Carl said.

   “A pact,” Rachel concurred.

   “An agreement,” Ezekiel confirmed. “That our communities will work together to ensure mutual safety and prosperity. We have had our struggles, and our losses, most prominent perhaps being the loss of Rick Grimes.” Michonne nodded. “But this charter is the beginning of something new. A constitution, if you will. That ensures we will protect and provide for each other. We have Jesus and Aaron facilitating communications between our great compounds, and hopefully we can continue to grow closer.”

   He produced a Sharpie from his pocket.

   “Who gets first sign?”

   “You do, King,” Rosita smirked. 

   He turned to Carol, who sat next to him.

   “Oh go on,” she insisted. He smiled and signed his name under the Kingdom space, muttering “John Hancock, eat your heart out.” He then passed the Sharpie to Carol, who deftly scrawled Queen Carol underneath.

   She passed the marker to Tara. Rosita watched Tara sign her name. She’d never seen Tara sign her name before, it wasn’t like there was a reason to. Even as a leader, there were no contracts to sign at the end of the world.

   Her fingers moved smoothly across the paper. Tara Chambler. The name that had passed Rosita’s lips over and over, the name that never lost its luster. It was twelve letters on a piece of paper. But to Rosita, it was everything. A woman who had started on the wrong side, who fought like hell to make things right. The woman Rosita had fallen head over heels for. The woman who was cradling their child to her chest with her left hand as she signed with her right.

   “Come on, First Lady. Sign it.” Tara passed the marker to Rosita with a grin. 

   Rosita took the marker and kissed Tara with a loud smack, earning a laugh from Carl and Carol.

   “Pardon me for asking,” Ezekiel started. “But are you two… romantically intertwined?”

   “Jesus, Ezekiel, look at them. You think Rosita followed her to Hilltop so they could be best friends?” Carol scoffed.

   Rosita chuckled at the shock on Ezekiel’s face, gray eyebrows arched in confusion, and leaned down to sign the paper.

   “You’ve chosen well, Tara. And Rosita,” Ezekiel commended.

   Tara looked at Rosita.

   “I know I did.”

   Rosita passed Michonne the marker and stroked Tara’s cheek, then Finley’s head.

   Michonne signed her name under the Alexandria space, and then gave Carl the marker.

   “You want me to-?”

   “You held onto this dream when I didn’t know how. It’s your right to sign it.”

   He took the marker with a smile and scrawled his name, passing it to Rachel who signed last.

   Tara put her hand in the center of the table, waving the others along.

   “Coalition on three! One… two…”

   “You all better do it,” Rosita threatened.

   “Three!”

   “Coalition!” They all cheered. Tara pulled Carl into a bone-crushing hug. Carol kissed Ezekiel. Rosita shook hands with Michonne. Tara fist bumped Rachel, who rolled her eyes.

   “It’s gonna happen. It’s happening, Rosita. A better life for us and for this guy.” She pointed to Finley, who cooed up at her.

   “It’s happening, Tara.” Rosita had never felt more peaceful.

***

   “Is that what I think it is?” Tara murmured as they walked through the stands about an hour after the meeting.

   “What do you think it is?” Rosita scanned the stands, noticing nothing of importance.

   “Caramel apples. Babe. I haven’t had a caramel apple in so long.” Tara practically salivated at the thought.

   Rosita smiled. “I’ll take Fin. Go get one.”

   “I love you, I love you, I love you,” Tara repeated as she untied the swaddle and passed the baby to Rosita. “Go ahead and walk him around. I’ll meet you in five minutes.”

   “Okay, baby.” Rosita kissed Tara’s nose and watched her run off.

   “You two seem happy,” Michonne commented, walking up to Rosita. “May I?”

   “Sure.” Rosita passed Finley to Michonne. “Do you want to hang for a bit?”

   “I can’t,” Michonne declined, adjusting Finley in her arms. “We were waiting on a group of Highwaymen to join the fair, but they haven’t arrived. I’m going to take a group. Daryl, Carol, Siddiq, Yumiko. You think you’ll be okay here?”

   “Yeah, oh yeah,” Rosita assured, taking Finley back into her arms. “Be safe, Michonne.”

   Michonne nodded and headed towards the gates.

   Rosita sat down on a nearby bench. The sun gently warmed her face, and caught Finley’s pale skin.

   “Shhh, here. Don’t want you to get burnt,” she cooed, covering his face with her palm so the sunlight didn’t get him.

   She studied the layout of the Kingdom. The red buildings and green grass were so dramatically colored, no wonder Ezekiel was proud enough of this land to call himself King. It was downright regal, all of it.

   “It’s a beautiful world, Finley,” she whispered.

   “Rosita!”

   The moment was shattered Carl burst around the corner of a building, carrying Judith against his chest.

   He hadn’t carried Judith since she was three.

   “Have you seen Enid?” His voice was cracking with exertion, shaking under exhaustion.

   “I- I haven’t.”

   The world seemed to fracture behind his eyes.

   “She said she was gonna get us popcorn. She didn’t come back, and I knew she wouldn’t forget, and-.”

   “Put me down!” Judith wailed.

   “Not now, Judith-.”

   “Carl, have you seen Tara?”

   His face fell, Adam’s apple catching in his throat as he gasped.

   “No, I haven’t.”

   There were a lot of things that could’ve been happening, Rosita knew. But she also knew that Tara stuck to her like glue, no matter the social situation. And if what Michonne had said about the people in the woods going missing was correct, then it wasn’t just two people who were gone.

   Finley let out a choking cry.

   The world as Rosita saw it seemed to blur at the edges like an old Polaroid picture, features molding and merging together until it all seemed to go away.

Chapter Text

   If she’d known getting a caramel apple would risk her life this much, she would’ve just stayed with Rosita.

   It had happened so fast. So unbelievably fast.

   The blonde woman at the stalls asked Tara for help. When Tara followed her, the woman knocked Tara on the skull.

   She woke up in a barn.

***

   “I need to leave!” Rosita pleaded.

   “Rosita, there are too many people already gone right now,” Carl insisted.

   Tara and Enid weren’t the only ones missing. People were beginning to notice how others weren’t where they were supposed to be. One of the old women from Hilltop. Some of the teenagers. Carol’s boy.

   Kal.

   She was in a cluster with some of the other people.

   “Rosita, the risk is high. We cannot lose you either,” Ezekiel insisted.

   “I’m not going to leave the love of my life, the mother of our son out there. I’m going. And no one is going to stop me.”

***

   “You know, you were just so ready to help anyone who needed it. You’ve always been.”

   She knew that Southern drawl even in the fog of what was probably a concussion. 

   Sure enough, it was Alpha, head cocked and grin wide in a sick smile.

   Tara moaned, clutching the side of her head.

   There was blood all over the green shirt she was wearing.

   Whose shirt was it again?

   Rosita’s?

   Rosita’s gonna be so pissed I messed her shirt up.

   “Figured you were easy prey. All you had to do was leave me alone with my daughter. That was it. Not send your people after her.”

   “I didn’t-.”

   Thwack.

   Blood spilled from a spot on Tara’s face, but she couldn’t place it.

***

   “Take Fin,” Rosita pleaded. Carl held out his arms and took the boy.

   “Promise me, if anything happens to me Carl-.”

   “I will.” He nodded firmly. “He’s going to be okay.”

   She turned to Ezekiel. “I need a gun.”

   “Rosita-.”

   “You don’t wanna help me? Fine.”

   He put a hand on her shoulder.

   “It’s not that. I don’t want you to die.”

   “I don’t want Tara to die.”

   It had been that way since the infirmary. Maybe even sometime before.

   She would put Tara before herself. She’d done it before. So she’d do it again.

***

   A man was holding her down.

   His arm was pinned right across the span of her chest.

   “You move, you try anything, I will slaughter everyone at that fair. Your girlfriend first,” Alpha sneered.

   Tara’s chest heaved. There was a burst of light as the barn door swung open. People filed in, some Tara didn’t know, some she did.

   “Kal! Henry! Tammy!”

   The Whisperer holding her down smacked her in the skull where Alpha had struck before.

   “What did Alpha say? Shut up. It’ll be over soon.”

   The people fought back. Well, they tried to. They were quickly subdued, and lined up along the walls.

   Alpha took out a blade that shone like glass in the little light that filtered through the slats in the walls.

   She pushed Kal to his knees.

   “No!”

   “I thought I told you to shut up!” The man clamped his hand over Tara’s mouth.

   Tara couldn’t watch. But she couldn’t close her eyes either.

   Kal’s blood flowed, rushing from where his head had once been.

   Kal was brave. He was loyal. There was supposed to be more for him. More for Tammy, who fell next. More for Carol’s boy, Henry, who screamed for his mother as the blade sliced his throat.

   They all blurred together, one right after the other. Tara was convinced it was her brain trying to get her out of that mess, get her out in one piece.

   It was all her fault. Her desperation to unite everyone together. It had just made things messy. It had just gotten people killed. Teenagers, elderly, everyone in between.

   And it was all her fault.

***

   Rosita stuck to the treeline, moving close to a clearing. She scanned for Tara, eyes moving wildly across the landscape.

   It wasn’t like Tara to disappear for so long. She might talk to a million different people, but usually she brought Rosita with her. She would’ve said something if there was another meeting or something that kept her away.

   What if something had happened? What if she wasn’t looking for Tara, she was looking for her body?

   No, she couldn’t think like that. Tara was alive. She had to be.

   Because Rosita wasn’t sure what she’d do if she wasn’t. 

***

   “You stay away from my people, you hear? I thought we had a deal going. A good thing. You just had to leave Lydia with me. Come near us again, and I’ll double the bodies.”

   Alpha swung her fist at Tara’s skull, then swung again, and again, and again.

   Tara felt her lip split, her nose crunch. She felt blood pour over her cheeks, her chin.

   Just let me go to sleep.

   Alpha’s fist found its mark on Tara’s temple, and she crumpled to the ground.

***

   Rosita could see Daryl, Michonne, and Yumiko. She knew others were there, she heard multiple voices.

   “Dead… some of ‘em.”

   “The rest aren’t here.”

   “Where would they be?”

   She kept her back to the forest and kept moving, careful not to alert anyone she was there.

   She wanted to consider where Tara would even go, but it had been so long since Tara’d been a runner she didn’t know the woods as well. Which just made things worse.

   She kept moving.

***

   “Tara. Tara!”

   The first thing she was was the blooming bruise on Enid’s arm.

   “Did they get you?”

   “They tried. I ran like hell. I’m really good at hiding.”

   She ran a finger over a gash in Tara’s cheek.

   “God, you look like shit. We need to go.”

   “Enid,” Tara slurred.

   “Come on, Tara. Come on.” She threw an arm around Tara’s back, willing her to stand.

   “Where am I?”

   “We’re in the woods. They tossed you out of the barn. I thought you were dead.”

   “I failed, Enid.” She started crying.

   “What are you talking about?”

   “They’re all dead, Enid. All of them.”

***

   Rosita had gotten desperate.

   She ran through the woods, tearing through the foliage.

   She couldn’t find Tara despite being about three miles out from the Kingdom by now.

   She stopped against a tree, heaving and barely able to hold herself up. Her brain swam with potential worst case scenarios. They couldn’t have gotten this far just for Tara to die. It wasn’t fair.

***

   “Where’s Rosita?”

   “I think she’s back at the Kingdom.”

   They were in a clearing in the woods. Enid laid Tara against a tree trunk.

   “Blood’s gonna get in your eyes,” Enid murmured, wiping Tara’s forehead with her sleeve.

   “Am I gonna die?”

   Enid took Tara’s head in her hands, tilting and scanning it.

   “Your head looks pretty banged up, but as long as you’re awake, you should be okay. Stay here. I know Daryl and Michonne came out. I’m going to try and find them so we can bring you back to the Kingdom. I need you to stay awake. Can you do that for me?”

   Tara nodded, head heavy. Enid ran off into the woods.

***

   Rosita was burning daylight. 

   She prayed fervently to herself that Finley was safe. She knew he would be safe with Carl. But now it seemed like anything could happen.

   “Rosita!”

   Enid burst from around a tree.

   “What are you doing out here?”

   “You need to come with me. Now!”

***

   Red blood. Green grass.

   It reminded her of the Savior war. It wasn’t a bad place to die, out here.

   It was getting harder to stay awake.

   The sunlight bled through the sky, lighting up the ground like stained glass. The sun would set soon.

   Why was she awake again?

   She shut her eyes.

   A blonde baby boy in a swaddle that cooed when she held him.

   A young man with shaggy brown hair, only one arm and one eye.

   A man with long flowing hair who made worse jokes than she did.

   A woman with beautiful eyes and a beautiful heart.

   What was that thing Denise had her do when she needed to focus?

   She had to remember something. Focus on something around her.

   Her hair curled down past her shoulders, almost down to her stomach. Her mouth hung open, tongue turning dry.

   If she got home she would get a haircut. And a drink of water.

   She dug her nails into the ground, trying to shock some feeling into her body.

   What was she doing? Why was she here?

   The world focused in and out of clarity.

   What did Denise say?

   Focus on her surroundings.

   Feet, on the ground. Legs in the dirt. Back against the tree. Head down.

   Her head swam, fresh pain cracking down on her skull every few minutes, right as the last wave would end. The blood on her face was beginning to dry, and as she twitched her jaw or cheek she could feel it crackle.

   Rosita. Finley. Jesus. Carl.

   She repeated their names like a mantra. She had to stay awake.

   A black-clad body raced toward her, followed by a figure wearing a loose flannel.

   “Tara!”

   Hands were on her face, stroking and wiping blood away.

   “What did they do to you… baby… what did they do?”

   Tara would know that voice anywhere.

   “Rosita?”

   Rosita turned out to look at the hill. She saw Daryl and his group had made it. 

   She saw Carol sink in Daryl’s arms.

   “Rosita?” Tara repeated. She tried to turn her head toward where Rosita was looking, but Rosita pulled Tara into her arms, nestling Tara’s head in her chest.

   She saw the pikes.

   Some of the heads, she didn’t know. But others…

   Tammy. Some of the teenagers from Hilltop. Henry. Kal.

   All dead.

   “I got blood on your shirt. They made me watch, said if I did anything they’d kill everyone else, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Tara slurred.

   Rosita’s heart felt like it was being ripped open. Kal was like a brother to her, for him to be taken so easily was a complete shock. And what they’d done to Tara…

   The woman would burn. Rosita would make sure of it. 

   “It’s okay, it’s okay baby,” Rosita whispered to Tara.

   “They’re all dead. And it’s all my fault,” Tara sobbed. The world came in and out of focus but Tara wished it would just stop. Wished it would all just stop.

   “It’s all over,” she cried into Rosita’s chest. “It’s all over. Your shirt is bloody. I’m so sorry.”

   “We can wash it. It’s okay, it’s okay, Tara. We need to go home,” Rosita assured.

   “Rosita-.” Enid started.

   “What?” Rosita growled.

   “I’ll get some of the group to help bring her back.”

   Rosita nodded, and turned back to Tara.

   “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Tara kept crying.

   Rosita pressed a kiss to her hairline, tears beginning to creep down her own cheeks.

   “Never be sorry.”

Chapter Text

   They’d gotten back to the main building of the Kingdom, Daryl and Rosita having held up Tara as they walked back.

   The symptoms of her concussion were beginning to subside. Siddiq had done a brief field test, and it seemed like there was no permanent damage to her head. At the moment, he was bandaging her cheek, which had been split open in a gash that would leave a scar.

   “This might hurt,” Siddiq warned as he applied alcohol to a cotton pad and wiped the area gently. And it did sting, but Tara wasn’t thinking about that. She wasn’t thinking about anything at all.

   “Hey,” Rosita whispered. “Where are you?”

   “A couch in the Kingdom. With the group,” Tara droned.

   “Can you tell me about the group?” Rosita asked gently.

   “It’s you. Yumiko. Daryl. Michonne. Siddiq. Enid.”

   “Good, good,” Rosita assured. She kissed Tara’s cheek, but Tara didn’t respond.

***

   Movies made it seem like it was easy to stab someone in the head. It wasn’t.

   You had to push through bone, tissue, both. Some parts of the bone are stronger than concrete. That’s what Lily said.

   It was for Denise. She was all Tara did anything for those days. She stabbed the Saviors while they were sleeping. And every time she did, sweat stung her forehead, her arms ached with how much it hurt. But she did it to go home to her.

   She was dead a few days after she started the run.

   So was Glenn. And Abe.

   She led Hilltop so no one would die again. So she could someday make Carl’s dream, Rick’s dream come true. And no one would have to die anymore.

   The war would finally end and she could just stay home with Rosita. And Finley. But now it was just beginning and she was already losing.

   She gripped the sides of her head.

   Liar. The swing of a blade.

   It went through her skull. The bobblehead crashing to the ground.

   All you had to do was leave me alone with my daughter. Blood. So much of it.

   “Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it,” Tara pleaded with herself, crumpling onto the couch. Where was everyone? 

   “Baby?” A blurred figure rushed towards her.

   Tara felt shot after shot of adrenaline tear through her body. She launched up, poised to fight off whatever was coming towards her. 

   No one was gonna get the jump on her again.

   “Tara, it’s me.”

   She sunk into the couch, head in her hands.

   “Rosita, I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you.”

   Rosita took one of Tara’s hands in hers.

   “Where are you?”

   “Don’t do that!” Tara cried, snatching her hand away.

   “Don’t do what?” Rosita pleaded.

   “Don’t take care of me. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”

   The room came back into focus and she had never been alone. Meaning she had her breakdown in front of everyone. Great.

   “Baby,” Rosita started gently.

   Tara turned to her with tear-streaked eyes.

   “Our people are dead. My people are dead. And I had to sit and watch.”

   “She said she’d kill you if you fought back,” Enid gently reminded her. “She threatened everyone at this fair, Tara. There was no way out.”

   Carl came in then, stepping carefully through the door, holding Finley in his arms

   “Everything okay?” he asked, passing the baby to Rosita. Finley let out a soft wail at the change in setting, and Tara broke down again, body heaving with sobs. 

***

   “Are you going to talk to them?” Jesus asked, coming in to check on Tara.

   “She’s gotta,” Daryl insisted. “They need to know what happened to their people.”

   “She doesn’t gotta do shit,” Jesus retorted.

   “No, I need to,” Tara argued. “I was there, I need to tell them what I saw.” She turned to Jesus. “Get them all together.”

   Ten minutes later she stood on the stage of the fair, onlookers staring solemnly up at her.

   “I’m gathering you here to inform you of an event I just witnessed. Multiple members of all of our groups have been kidnapped and murdered in cold blood. Ozzy and Alek of the Highwaymen, D.J. and Frankie of Alexandria. Henry of the Kingdom. Tammy, Adelina, Rodney, and Kal of the Hilltop.” 

   Her voice cracked on the last sentence. She watched several faces in the crowd fall, the ache of their losses radiating out towards her. She felt like she was being cut open over and over again

   “The Whisperers have done this to take apart our communities, to punish us. We need to stay strong. We need to use this hurt to push us forward, not bring us down. It’s not yet the time to fight back. But it will be. Today, we mourn. Tomorrow, we get ready for war.”

   Her words cut Rosita like a knife. Tara was in her element here, taking the leadership role, pulling through because she had to. And of course she was, she was Tara. 

   There were a few choppy cheers that rang out through the crowd, rallying cries. Most were silent, a respectful silence. A reverent silence. Everyone adored Tara, because she rarely gave them a reason not to.

   Ezekiel took the stage to address members of the Kingdom. Jerry came over to get Tara, who was visibly losing her composure. Rosita wrapped an arm around her and followed Jerry to a small building with some extra bedrooms. He led them to a room with an empty bed, gently patted Tara on the shoulder, and left the two of them there.

   Rosita tried again to get under Tara’s surface.

   “Where are you?”

   Tara responded blankly.

   “In the Kingdom somewhere.”

    Finley fussed in Rosita’s arms, reaching for his other mom.

   Tara crumpled into the mattress, tugging a pillow close to her chest, laying in the fetal position.

   “Do you want me to-.” Rosita started.

   “Please just leave me alone,” Tara whispered. She was still in Rosita’s shirt. It was caked in blood, deep stains turning the fabric purple. Her hair was bloody too, it splayed out on the blanket behind her. She sat up briefly, stretching out her arms. “Leave Finley, I’ll take him. I just need to be alone.”

   Rosita swallowed hard, trying to tamp down the knot rising in her throat.

   “Okay.” She passed the baby to Tara, who let out a wail at the shift.

   Rosita felt something course through her skull. She remembered all of the times Tara had screamed from a nightmare, and all of the times she had let Rosita help her. But this was real.

   “I’ll be back soon,” Rosita promised, and clicked the door shut on her way out, before breaking down in tears.

***

   “Hi, baby,” she whispered, stroking Finley’s cheek. His blue eyes were wide in adoration of his mother, whom he saw as pure magic.

   “Sweet, sweet boy. You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, kissing his hairline. He laughed, and she laughed, and the world stopped for a second.

   It had been a long time since she thought of Megan. But Tara thought of her now. 

   Megan, pure and untouched by the world around her. Who hadn’t killed people or been responsible for so many of them. Who died a careless death, an unfair death. And somehow Tara was still alive.

   If she could do it all again she would’ve shot Brian the second he walked into her apartment. She would keep her and Megan and Lily and their father all together in the apartment, and she would’ve gone on runs for food, and they all would’ve been okay.

   The thought crossed her mind that this life meant no Eugene, no Jesus, no Finley. No Rosita. But there was a fury tearing through Tara’s chest, saying that they’d all be better without her anyways. At least at the apartment she’d been useful. And then got them all killed anyway.

   Not just them. Countless others. Members of the prison. Maggie’s dad.

   Oh god.

   Finley seemed like he could sense his mom’s distress, as he tried to grab her hand or arm. Flashbacks rolled through her mind like an old film reel.

   Liar.

   It went through her skull.

   All you had to do was leave me alone with my daughter.

   “Hey.”

   The familiar grunt caught her off guard.

   It was Daryl, standing in the doorway.

   “Saw Jerry take you away.”

   “Do you have a cigarette?” Her voice was aching, pleading. Her eyes were wide and wet and glassy.

   Daryl’s face shifted into something that was a mix of remorse and something else. Like he’d caught her with her hand in the cookie jar.

   “I thought you didn’t-.”

   “Just give me one!”

   Daryl stepped back. Tara didn’t scream often, but when she did, it was a scratchy growl that tore the room apart.

   “I’ll take the kid. Don’t wanna smoke with him in the room,” he muttered, taking Finley into his arms. He dug a pack out of his pocket and handed her a hand-rolled cigarette.

   He gave her one last look as he walked out, trying to decipher what she’d do next.

   She lit it the second he left. Inhaling deeply, the faintly familiar tobacco washed over her and knitted into her lungs. A cough tore through her chest, and it felt good. It felt good to hurt, to burn.

   Smoke filled the room, making all of her surroundings hazy. She’d picked up smoking from her dad on and off in college. Addiction genes, he’d said. That’s what landed him with lung cancer. That scared her enough to stop, the day he got his diagnosis, she threw her last pack in the trash. Of course, when the world went to shit, she picked it up again out of stress. She didn’t properly stop until she met Denise.

   And now Denise was gone. So what did it matter?

   She’d tried to serve the dead. She’d tried to carry on Rick’s dream, live on well because Glenn forgave her, protect Rosita because that’s what Abraham wanted and what she would’ve done anyways. And now the blood on her hands was too thick to wash off.

   She wanted to cling to life. She thought of everyone still alive. Everyone who she believed would be better once she wasn’t. Rosita could find a man or woman who wasn’t a basket case.

   She wouldn’t want to be with a woman who couldn’t take care of her people. And Finley deserved a mother who could protect those in need.

   She finished the cigarette, burning the last end on her wrist. Ash littered the bed, torching a tiny hole in the sheets.

   Her hand went to the handle of her gun, and after a moment of consideration, she slid it out of the holster.

   She pressed the barrel to her temple. The cold metal stung her skin through her hair. 

   “I’m sorry, Finley. I’m sorry, Carl. I’m sorry, Jesus.”

   She took a deep, shaking breath.

   “I’m sorry, Rosita.”

   She clicked the barrel into place.

   The door cracked open, gently, and Tara didn’t have enough time to put the gun down.

   “Daryl took Fin, he told me to come take a look at you, are you-.”

   It took a second for Rosita to process it all. The gun in Tara’s hand. The cigarette butt on the bed. The guilt in her eyes.

   She stepped slowly towards the bed, and tugged the gun from Tara’s grasp. She checked the safety, making sure it was on, and placed it on the dresser.

   She went over to Tara, cupping her face in her hands. A million thoughts briefly ran through Rosita’s head, if she had just been a minute later, if she just hadn’t let Tara go get that damn apple. But every thought went quiet when a tear flowed from Tara’s eye.

   “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I just wanted to fix it,” Tara blubbered, the tears beginning to pour down her cheeks, soaking the bandage on her cheek.

   Rosita wanted to scream at Tara for a moment. How she could think of leaving her, her son, her community. But she knew this would be of no use. Tara’s mind never ran perfectly, but now something had been deeply broken inside her. Screaming would just make it worse. Rosita knew Tara loved her, knew Tara wouldn’t leave her and her child in her right mind. 

   “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Tara sobbed into Rosita’s shoulder.

   “I’m gonna get you help. Somehow,” Rosita promised, rubbing her back. “You’re not by yourself, baby. Mi vida?”

   “Rosita,” Tara whispered, before sinking into another crying fit.

   “I’ll get Daryl to keep Fin for the night. If he won’t do it, Carl will. I’m going to stay with you, that’s non negotiable. And tomorrow we’ll go home and figure something out.”

   Tara nodded, wiping her nose with her sleeve. Rosita kissed her forehead and Tara let her, molding to her touch.

   As Rosita held her close, her mind began to race once more. Tara had lived through something horrible, worse than anything else she’d seen. Rosita was on time this time, but what happened if next time she wasn’t?

   Rosita knew her greatest priority was to protect Tara, and this had grown to include Finley. She could protect what was hers from walkers and humans. 

   But how was she going to protect Tara from herself?

Chapter Text

   They got back to Hilltop the next morning.

   Tara didn’t do much or speak much. All she really did was cling to Rosita’s arm and take sips of water offered to her. Her eyes glazed across the road ahead of them, every bump in the road, every shake in the wagon threatening to throw her body to the ground. 

   Rosita kept murmuring assurances in Tara’s ear, but they all seemed to fall flat. The image of Tara alone with a gun in her hands was hard to shake. She wondered if she would’ve heard the bang, if she would’ve seen the blood.

   It was impossible to think about and equally impossible not to think about.

   Jesus told Rosita to take Tara to Barrington, and then he turned to Aaron. Rosita walked Tara to their bedroom, the neatly made bed and cleared-off dresser a stark contrast to the chaos in their minds. She laid Finley in his crib. Tara pulled off Rosita’s shirt and tossed it on the chair, kicked off her boots, and collapsed in the bed.

   Rosita took the shirt into her hands.

   “I’m going to wash this. Can I leave you here?”

   “I’m not gonna kill myself, Rosita.”

   Rosita bit back a harsh response, instead taking the shirt outside where they did laundry. Before she left the building, she checked to make sure no one was watching, and inhaled the scent of the shirt.

   Tara was right, it didn’t smell like the old van anymore. Just sweat and paper and ink, it would’ve been all Tara if it weren’t for the blood and tinge of cigarette smoke that make Rosita wince.

   She went out to where some of the community members sat in a circle, and began to scrub.

***

   Tara hardly left the bed for a week. She only got up to feed and change Finley, and she’d keep him on the bed with her to make sure he wasn’t alone.

   She didn’t eat. She didn’t shower. She hardly slept, she’d dream of the barn again and wake up screaming, and Rosita’s assurance did little to comfort her.

   She hadn’t smoked anymore mainly because Daryl had stayed at the Kingdom to take care of Carol. And they weren’t going anywhere. There was a winter storm starting to come down, keeping everyone more or less stuck in their houses.

   None of it mattered to Tara. She stayed in bed, clinging to a pillow, loosely draping Rosita’s shirt over her. It reminded of Rosita when they had the old camps, when she saw Tara holding her knees close, trying to find any comfort she could and stay warm while she was at it.

   Rosita tried. She left plates of food on Tara’s bedside, plates that went untouched. The one thing she was strict on was making sure Tara drank water, and even then she only managed a glass a day. The only thing she had energy for was Finley.

   She laid in bed, sweaty and tired and shivering. And it was killing Rosita.

   On top of that, the militia had to ramp up training with the Whisperer threats. And Rosita had to not only cope with the loss of Kal, she had to take over almost all of the training.

   “Are the Whisperers gonna kill us?” the little boy with curly hair asked Rosita during a session.

   She sucked in a breath.

   “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

   That night she went home to Tara, who had managed to pick a bite from the plate on the nightstand.

   “You got hungry?” Rosita murmured, stroking Tara’s hair.

   “Somethin’ like that,” Tara whispered into the sheets. Rosita lifted Tara up by her shoulders and rested her head in her lap. Tara let out a contented sigh as Rosita stroked her hair, and for the first time in what felt like forever, things were okay.

   Until Tara had another nightmare.

   She woke up heaving, shooting straight up in bed.

   “Baby,” Rosita started, putting a hand on her side.

   “I’m fine, Rosita, I’m fine! Just go back to bed,” Tara growled, and collapsed into the bed, facing the wall.

   Rosita watched her form settle, ragged breaths slowing to relaxed ones. Still, Rosita didn’t go back to sleep for at least another hour.

***

   “You need a drink,” Magna insisted after training the next day.

   Rosita slid a bottle of oil from her pocket, beginning to coat her knife. 

   “I’m fine.”

   “You hardly leave the house unless we’re training. Come on. I talked to Yumiko and we agreed you need some time.”

   “I need to get to Tara-.”

   “She’s an adult.” Yumiko came over and clapped Tara’s shoulder. “She’s been okay all week when you’ve been out training. Another hour will be okay.”

   Rosita nodded, and followed them to their trailer.

   Magna popped the cork on a bottle of wine and poured them all glasses. Rosita sat cross-legged on the floor, while Magna and Yumiko sat together on the bed.

   “We know what you’re doing, Rosita,” Magna stated, sipping her wine.

   “What are you talking about?” Rosita’s tone was defensive, sharp.

   “We know you’re stressed about Tara,” Yumiko explained gently. 

   “How do you know that?”

   “Rosita. The only things you do are train and stay at the house. As soon as sessions are over you run back to Tara. And I know it’s not because you’re worried about Finley, because Tara takes good care of him. So it must be about Tara. What happened?” Magna pressed.

   Rosita sighed and took a drag of her wine.

   “Tara was there. When the Whisperers killed everyone.”

   “I know,” Yumiko reminded her.

   “She had a breakdown after she gave the speech.” Rosita stopped.

    Her Smith and Wesson, hanging in her hands. Eyes wide and etched in fear and guilt. The smoldering cigarette burning a hole in the bed and filling the room with smoke.

   Rosita gritted her teeth, trying to hold the memory back. The fear that haunted her, the fear that if she had been just a little later, the brains of the woman she loved would be splayed on the walls.

   Magna leaned down and grabbed Rosita’s shoulder.

   “It’s okay,” she assured.

   “She had a breakdown. I walked in on her with a gun to her head. She’s taking the whole thing to heart, she feels like she failed. And she won’t let me help her… and I don’t know what to do.” 

   She wished she could cry. She wished she could scream. But all she could do was stare at the floor and think about it, over and over again.

   Magna pursed her lips, leaning back. Yumiko looked at Rosita, whose eyes were glazed over.

   “I’m sorry I forced it,” Magna whispered. “If I’d have known it was like that…”

   “No, it’s okay. I haven’t gotten to talk to anyone.”

   Yumiko took Tara’s hand.

   “You know, trauma pulls apart a lot of couples. I saw it in my cases, in some of my friend’s cases. Someone will die, or get hurt, and the people in their lives trying to deal with it pull apart from each other.”

   “You think I’m gonna leave Tara? You think she’s gonna leave me?” Rosita growled.

   Magna stiffened, calmed only by Yumiko resting her hand on her arm.

   “I’m not saying that. I’m saying it’s normal if you two aren’t in sync. Especially because I can tell Tara seems to struggle with guilt like this anyways. But things are about to get really dicey with the Whisperers. And I think, especially since you have a child, you need to figure out how to pull yourselves back together.”

   “A break,” Yumiko said, voice steady.

   A break, Rosita thought to herself. The idea of leaving Tara behind, separating from her, it was so much to think about. What if Tara took it as Rosita trying to leave her and it made her spiral more? What if they were separated and something happened to Tara? After all they had been through to get what they had, taking a break felt like abandoning it.

   “Magna and I took a break, a few months before Judith found us. Things were just getting too tense, with our group spiraling. We took some distance to focus on ourselves, and came back better than ever. The prospect is scary, I will say. But you want this to last with her, right?” Yumiko asked. Rosita nodded gently. “Then you need to be able to take care of yourselves as people, before you can take care of each other. It doesn’t even mean you’re breaking up. You just need space.”

   Rosita nodded again. “Thank you both, really. I’ll talk to her, I’ll come up with something.”

   Magna gave Rosita a rare smile.

   “We like you two. And we want to see you happy.” She kissed Rosita’s temple, a symbol of her respect. The wheels in Rosita’s brain began to turn.

***

   “Hi baby,” Tara whispered to Finley, holding him on the bed. He cooed and chuckled at her, earning a laugh.

   Rosita walked in, careful not to disturb the two.

   “Hey, babe. Can we talk?” she asked, going to pick up Finley from Tara’s arms.

   “Sure,” Tara sighed as Rosita laid Finley down on the bed.

   “You know I’m worried about you.” Rosita saw no point in beating around the bush.

   Tara tensed up. “I’m okay, really-.”

   “No, you’re not.” Rosita put her hand on Tara’s shoulder. “You almost tried to kill yourself. You need help, baby. Help that I can’t give you. After losing Kal, and trying to take care of Finley, and you’ve put in your share with Fin, but you’re not yourself.”

   Tara sunk her head into her hands.

   “I’m so sorry, Rosita. I’m really sorry. I don’t mean to abandon you, and I know you’re dealing with losing Kal. I’m really sorry.”

   Rosita took Tara’s hands in hers.

   “You don’t have to be. You saw something awful. You went through something awful. And I know you want to be a good mom and leader, and you are. You’re a good mom and a good partner and a good leader. But you need to focus on yourself, and getting better.” She sucked in a breath.

   “I spoke to Aaron and Jesus when they rolled in yesterday. Apparently, there’s a new doctor in Alexandria. Who has experience with trauma, who might be able to help. I think you should stay there for a while, and see what help he can give you.”

   Tara sat up, facing Rosita.

   “You want me to leave?”

   “No, no no no. If you go, I’ll visit you a couple times every week with Fin. And we’re not breaking up. I just want to give you a chance to work on yourself. But only if you want to.”

   Tara paused, pondering.

   “Who would take care of Hilltop? You’re already handling the army on your own.”

   “I talked to Enid. She said she’s okay with holding down the fort with my help.”

   “And Michonne is okay with me staying?”

   Rosita nodded. “You need to be a leader, you can’t lead if you’re not yourself.”

   “You’ll take care of Fin?”

   “I will. And I’ll bring him with me whenever I come see you. It’ll only be for a month. And I think it’ll be good for both of us.”

   Tara nodded solemnly.

   “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

   Rosita pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

   “I’m sorry you’re hurting. I just want you to take care of yourself. And you can’t focus on getting better if you’re trying to handle so much at once.”

   “You’ll be okay with Fin?”

   Rosita nodded. “I will. I’ll have Enid’s help.”

   Tara leaned into Rosita. “Okay. I’ll go. It’ll be nice to be around the old group again.”

   “And I’m gonna be around as often as I can. I promise,” Rosita assured.

   “I love you,” Tara whispered.

   “I love you too.”

   Rosita held her close as they fell asleep, silently hoping that she had finally pushed Tara in the right direction.

Chapter Text

    Alexandria had always put Tara on edge. It was too sterile for the new world. Too fake, with houses from a magazine and a fucking lake. It was comforting when she'd first arrived, but now all she could do was shudder as their wagon entered the gates. 

   Michonne was waiting just inside, Carl at her side. Tara climbed down from the wagon, knees weak.

   Michonne wordlessly took Tara into her arms. Rosita stood silent behind them. She could see Tara's body was stiff, barely returning Michonne's embrace. 

   Carl's eyes were cloudy. Judith and RJ were at his side, both heavy-hearted but not sure why.

   "Hey-" Carl started when Tara pulled from Michonne.

   "Don't. Please. Just don't."

   "Okay." Carl gave Rosita a pleading look, who returned one of her own.

   Tara grabbed her duffel bag from the back of the wagon and slung it over her shoulder. Rosita eyed the Smith and Wesson that sat in her holster.

   Reaching for it, she began: "Tara, should I..."

   "No, Rosita." Stiffening, she tried to justify herself. "You need to carry Fin on the way back."

   Rosita stepped back. Finley cooed in his sleep as he was bundled against her chest. She put her hand to the back of his head.

    "I can show you to your room, Tara."

    Michonne led them to the infirmary house. Tara gritted her teeth as Michonne took her and Rosita to a small bedroom on the top floor and left them alone. Carl, who had trailed behind, tried to speak.

   "Tara-"

   "Carl. Please. We can talk later."

   The young man nodded and followed Michonne out.

   "Tara," Rosita sighed.

   "Hit me with it. Come on."

   "He's one of your best friends-"

   "So I can apologize later." Tara sunk into the bed. "I need you to cut my hair."

   "Wha- why?" Rosita shook her head, eyebrows creased.

   "I can't look at myself anymore, and it's too fucking long, and it-" 

   "Okay, baby, okay." Rosita grabbed Tara's hands and pulled them away from her scalp, which she'd began to pull at. Rosita gently tilted up Tara's face with her finger, trying to get a good look at her.

   "Shower first, then I'll cut it."

   "Fine. Can you turn? Please?"

   Rosita's mouth hung open, trying to figure out an answer. But nothing came, and she just nodded and turned as Tara peeled off her clothes.

   The room was small, barely big enough for a twin bed and closet, but it did lead into a bathroom. The closet doors were paneled with mirrors, which Tara refused to look into as she pulled her week-old shirt off her body. The stench made her flinch, and the cold air clung to the sweat on her body. When Tara did catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she balked. Her eyes were gaunt, deep circles etched beneath them. But what really made Tara want to punch the glass was the faint outline of her ribcage beneath her skin.

   Goddamnit. No wonder everyone was treating her like she was made of glass.

   She shimmied out of her jeans and walked into the bathroom. The sound of her feet hitting tile signaled to Rosita that she could turn. It wasn't like Tara to ask Rosita not to look. Usually Tara would tease her for doing so, sure, but she reveled in it. There were the days when she dipped back into struggles with eating she was less than comfortable with it, but even then she wasn't as insistent as she had just been.

   Trying to find something to do, she untied the baby bjorn holding Finley to her chest, laying him on the bed. Rosita would never push Tara's boundaries. Tara never had to beg to be respected by Rosita. But it made Rosita worry. She couldn't help but consider whether she'd left something in the room with Tara when she'd gone out in the past week, if Tara had gotten her hands on a blade.

   But Rosita wasn't able to dwell on the possibility for long, as Tara came back into the bedroom, with a towel wrapped around her chest. It was courtesy to take quick showers at compounds that weren't home, they could never be sure of the water situation.

   "Can you hand me clothes? There should be some in the duffel."

   Rosita opened the bag and grabbed a Nirvana shirt Tara had stolen from Jesus some time ago, and a pair of black sweatpants. She got up and handed them to Tara.

   "Thanks baby," Tara whispered before heading back into the bathroom. Rosita's heart swelled.

   She walked back out with the clothes on a few moments later, pair of scissors in hand.

   "Found these in the drawer under the sink." She passed them handle-first to Rosita, who took them quickly.

   "How short do you want it?"

   "Here." Tara made a motion against her shoulder with her hand flattened. Rosita nodded and motioned for Tara to turn towards the mirror and sit. 

   She worked deftly, snipping just above her shoulders. Tara's hair was heavy, and would sink a quarter inch beneath wherever Rosita cut it. Curls of thick black hair fell on the laminate around them.

   "Turn," Rosita murmured, gesturing her head with her fingers. Her skin was soft against Tara's, Tara bit her cheek.

   Finley was sleeping on the bed. She could see him from her periphery, just barely. He had to be about six months old by now. They'd never be sure of his true age, and one day Tara had insisted they had to pick a birthday for him.

   "April 1."

   "Our baby's birthday will not be April Fool's Day," Rosita had groaned, stroking his hair. 

   "Do you have a better idea?"

   She cocked her head, studying him. "October 12."

   Tara scoffed. "Too arbitrary."

   "Fine, okay. You pick the month, I pick the day."

   "April."

   "Second." Rosita grinned. Tara laughed, and then Finley laughed. And they were happy.

   "I'm done."

   Tara looked at the mirror. Her hair hadn't been this short since she lived in the apartment. It had been nine years. It felt like a century.

   Her eyes burned, she didn't even notice the tears falling. But Rosita did.

   "I'll grab a broom." Rosita kissed the side of her head, and left.

***

   Rosita and Finley left shortly after Rosita cleaned up. Tara held Finley close to her chest and kissed his head, shutting her eyes as they brimmed with tears. 

   "You be good for mama, okay? You'll see me before you know it. I love you," she assured him. The baby boy cried as Rosita took him in her arms, unsure of what was happening.

   Rosita fixed Finley in his bjorn, shushing him as he wept. Tara looked down.

   "Get back safely Rosita, please," Michonne insisted.

   "I will. I'll see you again soon." She turned to Tara. "Baby-"

   "I'm so sorry." Tara's voice gurgled in her throat.

   "I need you to focus on you for once, honey. Please." Rosita stroked her cheek. "We need you."

   Tara nodded, a tear streaming down her cheek. "I love you both more than anything."

   "I love you too." Rosita kissed her softly, tasting the saltwater on her lips. 

***

   "I'm Dante. It's nice to meet you, Tara."

   They were in the infirmary. He was the doctor Rosita had mentioned, who Michonne took her to the second Rosita left. 

   Tara squeezed her fists. They had enough cleaning supplies to scrub out the blood, but she remembered everything that had happened here. From Carl's eye, to Rosita's stitches.

   The man who stood in front of her didn't make it easier for her to relax. He was broad with thick facial hair that fell somewhere between stubble and a beard. His brown-almost-black hair was swept over his forehead in a manner meant to hide his hairline that was slowly inching backward.

   "Michonne told me about you," he continued. "How much you've done for Alexandria, and the other communities."

   "What else did she tell you?" Tara folded her arms over her chest.

   "How you were with Rosita. That you have a son."

   "So you didn't hear the trying-to-blow-my-brains-out part?"

   He sucked in a breath.

   "It was mentioned, that you were dealing with something-"

   "I shouldn't be here, y'know? We've got people wearing walker skin with their knives to our throats. And I've been institutionalized. The fuck's Enid know about getting us through a war. It should be me."

   "Tara-"

   "You know, if you haven't thought of putting a bullet through your skull in the hell these past nine years have been, I think that's crazier than anything else. Everyone's treating me like I can't do anything for myself." Her voice didn't rise or dip, it stayed level, the only change was her eyes narrowing. She scratched her hand through her hair. "I'm not crazy. I'm fine. I don't need this."

   "I don't think you're crazy."

   She scoffed. "How'd you get here anyways?"

   "Came to the gate. Told the leader here I used to be an army medic. They kept eyes on me so I didn't do anything stupid, then they started to trust me. The Indian guy-"

   "Siddiq."

   "Yeah, he didn't like me too much either. But he's coming around, I think." Dante grinned.

   Tara didn't return it. 

   "Thank God Michonne took the stick out of her ass so we'd have you here to play twenty questions with me."

   "Michonne talked about you with nothing but respect. Did something happen?" He wasn't judgemental, which made Tara angrier.

   "You don't know anything about what's happened here. So either do what you need to fix me so I can do my job, or at least quit fucking around and let me leave."

   "I haven't been fucking around, Tara. You've done most of the talking."

   He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands.

   "You weren't described to me as angry."

   "I'm not a goddamn lab rat."

   "You have people who love you-"

   "You know what, Dante?"

   "Cigarette?" He slid a pack from his pocket and handed her one, which she took. He lit it for her and she took a deep pull, before continuing:

   "You know what?" she repeated as smoke streamed from her mouth. "You haven't been here very long, so I'll level with you. The man who saved my life, who brought me into this group? Dead, head smashed in with a baseball bat. The woman who worked in this infirmary? We were in love. She was shot in the head. She wasn't even the target."

   She took another drag on her cigarette. "Rosita's old boyfriend, big as a tank and twice as strong? He saved my life too. He's also dead. The guy who led this whole shebang, took me in when he had every reason not to, yeah, no one's seen him in six years. My sister and my niece, two of the best people I could've ever known, dead because of a man I should've shot when I first had the instinct to. I didn't choose any of this bullshit. No one did. This is how the cards fell. I ended up leading Hilltop, and I need to get back."

   She took another drag, this time forcing the smoke out of her lungs. "I need to get back to my son, and to my girlfriend. I fucked up, I know. But I won't do it again. Come on, Dante. You know I'm not gonna do it again. It's all for show. Everyone knows it won't happen again. I know what they're all thinking. I didn't belong here in the first place. I definitely don't belong now. But I'm gonna fix it." She twisted the burning end into her wrist. "It doesn't hurt? Do you see it? Do you get it now? I'm gonna fix it, Dante. It'll be fine again. I mean it."

   The room smelled like smoke. The cigarette butt was on the ground, smoldering. Tara's heart was pounding. Her skin was flushed, her hands were bunched into fists. She willed herself to look at Dante, her heart beating out of her chest.

   He grinned, and leaned back in his chair. 

   "I think we're going to get along, Tara."

Chapter Text

   Rosita and Enid were in the study for the third night in a row. Maps were scattered across Tara's desk. Everything in the room smelled like her. Paper and tea drippings, Rosita thought to herself. Eau de Tara.

   The room was sparsely lit, with just a few candles and a small electric lamp. Enid was pointing at spots marked out across the landscape. 

   "Whisperer compound here, here, and here. Michonne's said the same thing we know, if we don't bother them they don't bother us. So we need to find workarounds."

   Rosita nodded slowly. "Should we keep the training going?"

   Enid chewed on her pen. "If you can take on some of the adults, between the tension and Kal-" she started, cutting herself off when she saw Rosita's face twitch.

   She sucked in a breath. "Yeah."

   "I'm sorry-"

   "Don't be. I'll figure out a schedule. Thanks Enid."

   Enid nodded softly.

   "Did you see Carl? I know he's been a bit shaken-"

   "Not much. Sorry." 

   Part of Rosita wanted to scowl at Enid for thinking about something as silly as her teenage romance at a time like this.

   Enid nodded. She hated when Rosita was short with her.

   The other part remembered that Enid wasn't a teenager, neither was Carl, and she had done stupider things for Tara.

   "I'm sure if you send him something though, he'll read it."

   As much as Enid hated when Rosita was short with her, Rosita hated being short with her more.

   A smile ghosted Enid's face, one she worked quickly to tamp down.

   "Thanks."

   Rosita nodded and started scanning the maps once more. Enid went to make them more coffee.

***

   Magna ended up being more than willing to help Rosita train, which was a blessing in itself. She was a master with a knife and good under pressure. She didn't ask many questions, just started directing people the day after Rosita commented to her and Yumiko that all of the training was a bit much on her.

   Any other time Rosita would've felt pissy and slighted, but she was too tired to care. If she wasn't training, she was focused on Fin. If she wasn't with Fin, she was trying to plan a Tara visit. If she wasn't planning a Tara visit she was planning with Enid and if none of those things were happening then she was dead asleep.

   It was how she liked things best, anyways. No use in doing anything but letting the motor run. Especially with shit hitting the fan in the worst way since the lineup. At least now Rosita could do something more than plan a suicide mission into an old warehouse. No matter how her hair was going greasy and Connie and Magna and Yumiko had been taking care of the baby more and more. No matter how sleep was getting scarcer and scarcer. No matter how when she got letters from Tara about therapy and how frustrated she was, Rosita let them pile up and kept forgetting to write back. No matter. Rosita was doing what needed to be done.

   "Alright, we're gonna go over power positions once more. That's how you make sure you can stab without knocking yourself over."

   "You heard the boss," Magna supplemented. "Feet apart!"

***

   A week went by. Enid came into Tara's study one day to be hit with the pungent smell of alcohol and the sight of about five poster-size maps of Georgia spread on the desk, thumbtacks and coffee stains marring each one.

   She wouldn't admit it, but she had become so damn obsessive about locations and plotting and finding trading workarounds. It stressed out Aaron and Jesus as they had to shift their routes almost daily to keep Rosita from pacing at the gates. Even then she started replacing her precious time for sleeping with time spent poring over maps with and without Enid. More markers and coffee spilling, more sweat stench and exhaustion filling the room Tara used to keep tidy, never perfect. but always tidy.

   It still smelled like her, though. Rosita was asleep in the chair with a bottle of amber liquid held loosely in her grasp. Enid moved over to her, tugging the bottle away.

   "Tara," Rosita slurred, eyes blinking softly. "Baby?"

   "No, not Tara-" Enid tried, but Rosita's eyes had sunk shut once more, her body collapsing in on itself. Enid set the bottle on the desk and tried to get Rosita to lean back in the chair, with no luck.

***

   Another week. Magna had taken over the training almost entirely. Rosita mainly only showed for appearances.

   The final straw was when Rosita snapped at someone during training, someone a bit newer in town. Tara would've known his name. Rosita just screamed at him for holding his knife facing up.

   "You fucking buffoon!! My fucking baby is smarter with knives, you fucking was-"

   "That's enough! Training's done, all of you go home." Magna said this mostly to the 20-something trembling with a 3 inch pocketknife in his hands whom Rosita was trying to murder with a glare right then.

   "Fine by me. Maps need to be redone anyways." She stomped off to Barrington, while Magna bit back some choice words.

   Magna remembered Rosita's comment at their dinner, how she never liked to drink often.

   But that sentiment seemed to be in the past somewhere. Rosita's breath was so sour, with her eyes so heavy. Even in later sessions she kept having to send everyone home early, and eventually just started sending Rosita home early. It bugged her so much she went to Yumiko in their trailer after a particularly difficult training and sunk her head straight in her lap.

   "This is embarrassing. For her. That's not the general we met," Magna mumbled into the denim of Miko's jeans, eventually turning her body to look up at her.

   "It can't be easy," she affirmed, softly stroking Magna's hair. 

   "I know it can't. But they have a baby, and sending Tara away like this, I just- I don't know if they're doing the right thing."

   "You know that isn't for us to decide, love." Yumiko leaned down and pressed a kiss between Magna's eyes. "Tara was under pressure."

   "But Rosita is making her feel like a monster. When's the last time Tara visited? When's the last time she saw her son?"

   "She's sick-"

   Magna shot up. "You know I love Rosita, but she has no right to-"

   Yumiko took her hand. "I know. I know being sick doesn't make her a bad mom. They're both trying."

   "Something has got to change with them."

   "Can't we go a while with no seismic shift? There's no need for us to-"

   Yumiko was interrupted a knock at the door.

   The women shot looks at each other. Magna got up quickly, racing across the linoleum and grabbing for the handle.

   Outside stood Tara.

   Her hair had grown slightly past her shoulders, and her posture was steady. The only thing that scared them was how her clothes looked like they were slipping off her body like wax. But her face looked healthy, and her voice was solid when she spoke.

   "Sorry, I tried to get into Barrington but no one answered."

   "I'm sorry-"

   "Don't be. But it's been too long. I'm sorry, we'll have to do dinner. But first things first, where's my son?"

   "Finley?" Yumiko asked. "Honey, I'm not sure-"

   "Where's Rosita?"

   Magna glanced at Yumiko, who matched her expression and they both knew, there'd be a seismic shift alright.