Judith fascinated Veata. Her plump, cherub cheeks and the brilliance of her squealing laughter reminded her of a time when it would have been happiness enough to be a mother. She’d discarded such longings in the years since the world had come to a screeching halt. There was no room in survival for frivolous dreams, and in her current mental state she knew she could do no child justice as a mother. It took someone gentle, someone far more human than her to be a proper parent. But the sight of Negan rocking her in his arms on the porch had unraveled a brutal, savage need to protect her as if she were her own. For the first time since the Grimes had come to Alexandria Veata held Judith as outside the house Negan walked with Spencer.Â
She bounced Judith on her hip, and watched without flinching through the window as he gutted the man. When the gunshots rang loud and clear she cradled her head against her shoulder. As the men seized Eugene she sang to the fussing toddler in the soothing lilt of French. It was only once The Saviors had cleared out of Alexandria that her voice faded to silence, and she turned her back to the window. She waited for Rick. Were it not for Olivia on the porch -- warm and bloodied -- she would have walked out of the house, but even she thought Judith too young for such sights. Through the house she walked slow and methodical, her hand rubbing Judith’s back until the front door swung open as she passed through the front hall. “Rick.”
The first words from her mouth were ones of reassurance. “Judith’s fine. I came here after Olivia told me what was happening, and he left her with me when Spencer came to talk to him. Negan didn’t hurt her.” Not her, but others. Others that had been important. Spencer she had been neutral to, but in Olivia she had recognized kindness. She had seen softness, and she had pitied her for it. Veata walked forward to offer the toddler. In her chest there flickered a brief ache as Judith’s arms reached for him. Her eyes searched Rick’s, and in a hushed voice she questioned, “What happened out there?” She did not pose the question out of morbid curiosity. Rather it was need -- a need to know, a need to understand, a need to plan for the futures immediate and distant.
