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"I'M DONE WAITING. THAT'S WHY I CAME," Murphy muttered as her fingers carefully worked the thread through Rosita's cheek.
Stitching was an art in and of itself. The idea of taking a wound and bettering it, giving it a roadmap for how to heal. Rosita barely winced as the injury was mended, but it would always be a reminder of the attempt to end Negan's life... and the life that ended instead. Olivia was given a burial service that afternoon. It was short, but the people of Alexandria paid their respects. She was loved in the community— someone vital since the beginning. She didn't deserve to be taken from this world so brutally.
"Yeah, well... I'm done, too," Rosita replied.
Murphy's green eyes traced Rosita's features as a long trail of blood dripped down her cheek. The doctor lifted the warm rag that rested on her thigh and softly wiped the red from Rosita's face. She then snipped off the remaining thread and let the finished sutures be. She let her hands fall once more and hesitated before replying.
"Then help me," Murphy begged, staring into Rosita's eyes while fiddling with the towel. "I came from Hilltop. Gregory isn't cooperating, so we need you all. We can't just sit here and take this."
Rosita shook her head in agreement, "They treat us like dogs."
"So we fight back," Murphy pushed. "We organize. We do this right. We don't just shoot in the streets, because that gets people killed, Rose."
Rosita's gaze shot to Murphy. What rage there was in her heart had been replaced with grief. She pressed her lips together in an effort to restrain the tears and cries that threatened to tumble forth. It took everything for the woman to hold herself together, but she did. She was strong that way. Murphy made it clear long ago that she was there if Rosita ever needed to let those emotions break through.
Rosita sniffed and wiped away a lone tear that spilled over her lid, "It's just... he murdered Abe. He killed Glenn. It isn't fair that their last moments were so scared, you know? They didn't deserve that."
"No, they didn't," Murphy agreed, looking down at the ground.
Aaron was fast asleep in a cot in the corner of the room. He had needed a few stitches on his pummeled face, but he would heal quickly. Besides him, the medical center was empty. There was a time when it was filled with so much life. The kids would sneak in and pretend they had a cough just to get one of Doctor Murphy's infamous cookies or lollipops. Alexandrians would come with the most basic questions, but Murphy would listen intently and seriously. Now, everyone was tucked in their homes... afraid to step outside their door. It broke Murphy's heart. None of them deserved this.
"We just gotta set things right," Murphy whispered to herself more than to Rosita. "That's the way we honor them."
Rosita nodded softly. She reached forward to set her palm on Murphy's forearm as a sign of support and comfort despite her inability to say more. The doctor smiled sweetly in return, tears glistening in her eyes. As Rosita stood from her chair and exited the infirmary, the polaroid in Murphy's pocket felt just a little heavier. The front door shut with a loud bang that made her jump— the lack of sleep taking its toll. She reached into her shirt and gripped the small photo over her racing heart. Her fingers ran over its already faded surface, although the emotional imprint was as clear as ever.
