Future Ghosts • TWD

167. More Than Worms Love Dirt.

Rosie is in a city bus seat. She looks around but no one else is there. There isn't even a driver at the front, but the bus is moving along empty streets. The sun is hot and golden, beating down on her face through the glass panes of the window beside her. It's nice. It's gentle and warm, and it's safe.

Although Rosie doesn't know where she is or how she got here, but she feels safe. She isn't afraid of what she doesn't know. She feels content. Happy.

For a little while, Rosie simply lays her head against the window, watching the world flying by. It doesn't hurt like it would have on the bus when she was little. There are no bumps. The ride is smooth.

After a long time of riding in the bus, it finally comes to a stop at a street corner. The doors swing open by themselves. Hesitantly, Rosie gets up out of her seat. She's dressed in a gray shirt, black pants, and Fraser's jacket. Her Converse-clad feet inch down the stairsteps until they hit the pavement.

When she turns, she sees that the bus is now gone completely. Weird.

Turning even more, Rosie peers into empty shop windows until she sees the beach across the road. Furrowing her eyebrows with confusion, she looks both ways before crossing the street. There are no cars, but she figures she's better safe than sorry.

The moment she steps onto the sand, her shoes are suddenly gone. She looks down at her feet and sees now that her pants have turned to shorts and her shirt has turned to a tank top. She looks back up, and she sees someone on the beach. She's not alone there, anymore.

At first, she doesn't recognize him. She doesn't recognize the beach that she's on, either. But as she nears the person, standing at the edge of the sea, letting the waves wash over their feet, she begins to realize where she is. She's at Virginia Beach. And that head of blonde, sandy hair is her brother.

"Fraser," she calls out into the silence.

His head turns first, then his whole body. His eyes widen and water as Rosie comes near him.

She's not supposed to be here.

But when she runs up to him, he can't help but hold her in a tight embrace. She's still shorter than him, but she isn't nearly as tiny as she was the last time he was able to hug her. He used to be able to pick her up like a baby doll, she was so small. But now she is all grown up.

"You're- you're s'posed to be with them," Fraser says in a raspy voice, pulling away from Rosie and keeping his hands on her shoulders.

"Them?" Rosie asks. Them who? David? He can't mean David, can he?

"Daryl, Maggie, Coach Smith," Fraser lists off, his eyebrows pinched together. "Ian, Lydia, Judith. Your family."

Rosie can't believe what she's hearing. How is it possible that Fraser knows them? "How do you...?" she asks.

"Been watchin' over you, Rosie. You found 'em. The kind a' people I wanted ya to find. You're s'posed to be with 'em," Fraser explains, twisting the ends of her hair between his fingers anxiously.

"We can see? That they're ok?" Rosie asks, her eyes full of hope.

"In a way, we can. When they need us to. Probably not how you'd think, though," Fraser says, nodding his head. "I tried makin' your nightmares go away, but it didn't always work," he tells her. His eyes are darting all over her face. It's soft and fresh, like a baby's would be. There are no scars, cuts, or bruises anymore. But there are tiny little freckles dusted across her nose. He meets her eyes once again. "But you're s'posed to be with 'em," he says.

"I missed you," Rosie says, changing the subject. She doesn't want to talk about what happened or why she isn't with them anymore. She can't go back, anyway. She's here now. She's with him.