I think I liked you better when you didn't have a knife in your hand, Peaches

Whispers

It was late and dark and Rosita paced the living room of her small house. She had been doing the same thing each night since it happened, and still the feeling of guilt and worry was only getting worse.

"She might be ok-" came the sighing voice of Sasha from Rosita's couch, in the home she had once shared with Abraham and Eugene long ago but now resided in alone..

But Rosita turned sharply to her, eyes tearful and worried looking.

"She might be dead!" she said in a raised voice.

"We don't know that," said Sasha soothingly, shaking her head. "Negan said he almost lost her. That doesn't mean she's dead."

But Rosita felt a guilt like nothing she had felt before in her entire life. It had never meant to be this way. And as much as she had hated Blake and wanted her to pay, that bullet had always been meant for Negan, and not her.

She had seen the anger and the fury in his eyes when he had come here just a few short days ago. And had it not been for Sasha dragging her back into her home and barring the door, Rosita would have confessed there and then, taken the blame for what she had done.

Despite Sasha's words, Rosita didn't know if Blake was really ok. What if something had happened to her since? What if that bullet wound had become infected? What if there were complications?

"I don't know..." continued Sasha with a sighing shrug. "Maybe all this is for the best. Blake was never on our side. She was always on Negan's. She betrayed us. You saw that, the way she walked in here like she owned the place. Just like he did."

Rosita brought her thumbnail up to her mouth, chewing on it as she pondered Sasha's words.

"You saw what he did to Abraham...to Spencer.....it was time for him to pay..for him to lose someone...." Sasha continued nodding.

But Rosita gave a frown.

"I know, but-" she tried. But again the black woman gave a shake of her head, her eyes fixed to the armchair opposite, staring.

"But nothing," Sasha said in a firm voice. "Maybe you, shooting Blake....maybe it was for the best. She wasn't one of us. She never was..."

With a baseball cap pulled low over her eyes Rosita stared at this woman sitting on her couch.

Never in a million years had she expected Sasha to say any of this, but yet here she was...convincing Rosita that perhaps what she had done had been the right thing after all. Maybe her instincts now were wrong, and maybe guilt was not something she should be feeling.

She was right. Blake was a Saviour now. Their enemy.

"So maybe we bide our time," came Sasha's voice again, low and quiet now in the starkness of the night. "Maybe we leave Negan to calm down a little and that's when we strike, when he least expects it. Then we make sure the job is done properly. We could find guns...get in and out no problem, you know we could."

Rosita held her breath. Perhaps Sasha was right. Maybe this was no time for worrying about who got in the way. Perhaps this was a time for action. For revenge.

"Maybe we make sure that Negan really pays for what he's done...both of us...together," the black woman continued, getting to her feet and coming to stand in front of Rosita her eyes honest and her fists clenched. "So maybe we need to get rid of Negan and Blake and any others that stand in our way. Wipe all of them out...just like he was going to do to us."

She held out her hand suddenly towards Rosita

"So, what you say?" she uttered quietly. "Are you with me?"

And Rosita wavered for what felt like the longest of moments before reaching out her own shaky hand and taking Sasha's....certain now, that this was her destiny.

But what neither woman was aware of, right at this very moment, was someone listening to their pact through the open living room door that led into the small darkened hallway.....

All she had wanted was to do a favour for Rosita, drop off some blueberries for her for breakfast, her favourite-

Tara stopped, frozen to the spot, staring in horror, as she hovered there, ear pressed to the open living room door listening.

She had noticed that the brown-haired woman had been under the weather of late, staying cooped up inside ever since Negan's visit three long days ago. And so Tara had thought an act of kindness for her friend wouldn't go amiss in these hard and difficult times.

But never in a billion years had Tara expected to stumble across Sasha and Rosita having a conversation, so late at night when the rest of Alexandria was dead asleep.

Yes, Rosita had seemed off colour of late, no way in hell would Tara have ever thought this would be the reason why.

For dark-haired woman had heard the entire conversation and now realised the reason for that asshole's anger on coming here three days ago....why Negan had accused them of hurting someone he loved.

Rosita had put a bullet into Blake.

Shit.

Tara gave a gulp now, as her her heart thudded in her chest.

Blake had been the closest thing she had to a best friend here and she would be lying if she said she didn't miss her, every day.

So it hurt her to find out now that Blake could be back at the Sanctuary, sick or dying or worse, perhaps even already dead, by Rosita's hand.

This was never what Tara had wanted. And if she could, she would have Blake back here with her, safe, where she should be.

And so, with her face as white as a sheet, Tara fled the kitchen leaving the back door wide open and running out into the warm and humid night, knowing one way or another she had to go to Blake...

... to the Sanctuary to find her...

...before it was too late.