handleyourshit | Duplicity Inbox

This is Rosita. I'll hit you back when I can.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

If she goes home. She doesn't reject hope where she finds it but she doesn't let it have unchecked power either, and all together it means she's happy to hold onto him too. She's eager to hold onto him tight while she can, because right now? In the present? This matters too.

Just be happy. Just know what she already knew, what's easy to forget: each moment matters.

"Thank you," she sniffs, unashamed.

"I've got you." He'll dig around for answers for her, he'll run into a fight for her.

He remembers the day her people came back together, the day Rick decided to fight Negan. He'd watched them all embrace and he'd stood aside, pleased just to have brought Daryl safely home to them. Pleased just to be adjacent to the love they all clearly had for each other.

Rosita is the first person besides Maggie he's hugged.

Rosita remembers that day too, through the haze of anger and hurt and grief that had plagued her for weeks. She hadn't hugged anyone, she hadn't wanted to be pulled in by any of them, but she had come along anyway. She wanted to be where the fight was going to happen - and at her people's back, ready to hand to keep them safe.

She's healed since then, enough to do this anyway. She's healed enough to promise pieces of herself to the people she loves, and she cannot do anything about what's happened to Jesus or where they find themselves. She can't change anything so that he could get to go home with her, to hold her baby himself after it's born.

But when she finally steps back she can make sure he's the first person who knows, make sure they aren't separated again without him knowing: "It's Siddiq's," she tells him, hands still steady on his shoulders. "I haven't told anyone else." They're family, and she wants him to be happy with her.

It only takes him a few seconds to realize what she means by telling him that, and then he's grinning.

"He's a good man." And, because they've spent weeks now gossiping together, "He's hot. You did good."

It could have backfired; she can try to include him and only make him feel worse that he never will be, if she's unable to carry this pregnancy to term here. Maybe it still will, but for now he grins at her.

And she laughs. "Right? And sweet. Can't go wrong with a sugar-glazed six pack."

"He treats you well?" Not that Jesus can do anything about it now if he doesn't, but there's a certain shovel-talk-threat in his tone. "He's going to be a great dad."

He can already picture Siddiq watching the baby while Rosita goes out to fight walkers.

She hears that tone, and no one has ever - ever - taken it with her, on her behalf. Her brow furrows faintly but she's smiling, too, then she laughs again.

"He's sweet," she says again. "He was. But we were just playing around. I have no idea what he'll do with... that."

She has no idea what to do with sweet.

"He loves kids. He might be a little shocked but he'll be excited," Jesus says, with full confidence even though he doesn't know Siddiq well. He saw him with the families in the Hilltop when he'd come by to do annual exams.

"Have you thought about names?" In all the uncertainty she's had, he wouldn't be surprised if the answer was no. Names imply a certain faith that there will be a baby to hold.

"People like other peoples' kids, doesn't always mean they're excited about their own," she answers, but this is still just general caution rather than specific concern; she thinks so, too.

The glance she gives him at the question is ever so slightly guilty - she knows she shouldn't have for exactly that reason, that there's no guarantee of any kind. But she has.

"If it was a boy, and he wanted to, I was going to let Siddiq name him," she answers, hesitates, then continues more softly: "If she was a girl... Socorro."

He grins. The two of them hope for things, against everyone else's better judgment, so he's not surprised.

"My money's on it being a girl. The world needs more Espinosa women and we're due for some good luck."

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping," she admits with a small grin. She'd be happy with a healthy child regardless but that yearning kicks up a notch when she thinks about a daughter.

"Can you imagine?"

"When she starts talking?" He laughs. Yes, he can picture it. Yes, maybe sometimes he's thought about this when Rosita was sleeping over and he was watching over her. "Her first words are going to be 'stop bitching'."

Rosita laughs.

"Well maybe there shouldn't be so many people bitching around her. Maybe she'll get to grow up in some peace."

Jesus scoffs. "Yeah, because a bored Espinosa is just what the colony needs."

"She can go help her father in the clinic," Rosita declares.

"Or come scouting with me. There's plenty to do if everyone stops complaining."

"We need to find things for people to do here." And maybe the information he brings back will help with that.

"The people here?" she asks, picking her fork back up.

"Or certain people?"

"Certain people. The ones who might listen." A soft, humorless laugh. "People here really, ah... they don't like to listen to anyone."

"They sure do not," she agrees with clipped wryness. She's seen it firsthand of course. Idiots.

"But we can bring some together." She chews thoughtfully for a moment, then offers almost off handedly, "Jacob and I signed."

He's relieved. He doesn't need to say it, to drive home that he was the one pushing for it.

"How do you feel about it?"

Oh she is well aware, and would have been even if things had taken a more roundabout course. She's not angry or even annoyed anymore.

She does shrug. "Could have gone worse. It feels... weird."

He tilts his head and gives her a quizzical smile. "Why weird?"

"He's been here over a year. All the contracts he had before this one, he said he was in love with the other person." And there's no two ways about it: Jacob and Rosita are not in love.

"It's this weird mix of... Let's Keep Each Other Out Of Jail, but also you can sleep over if you want."

"He's different than he was a year ago." Older, more mature. He has had time to have a family, and so far no one else Jesus has met here has had that. "Maybe you're going to be the right person at the right time for him."

Not permanently, probably. But maybe it will end up being about more than just avoiding jail time.

She studies him openly, letting him see her narrowed eyes.

"Schemer," she snorts, but she shakes her head. "I just want neither of us to be miserable and I'll call it a win. We'll start there and see where it goes."