AN: I realize for fans that are looking for a solely Michonne/Daryl fanfic, this one can be frustrating. While I view them as the most important/main characters, I view the group dynamic as very important to their development and to the development of the story. That being said, as we continue our journey together and with the characters, there are going to be places where the other characters are very heavily involved.

Also, please be patient. Remember that I'm on this journey too, just a few miles ahead of you, and sometimes I am just as surprised as you will be about what's around the next bend. That being said, let's get going, shall we?

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The group had settled on two months to get ready. The entire mood of the prison had changed dramatically since the declaration. Everyone was sullen and sad. They all had plenty to get done in preparation for the move, but no one looked happy as they bustled about packing things and preparing. No one wanted to go. The prison was an imperfect home, but it had become their home.

Michonne had been excused from the packing work. She, instead, focused her time on working with her katana and trying to get in the best shape she could. It had been slow going and she was disappointed that her body wasn't responding as quickly as she hoped. It was responding, but not the way that she'd planned.

Daryl hated the getting ready part. He helped pack the vehicles they'd be taking with whatever Carol designated him to carry, and he met with Rick as often as needed to discuss and re-discuss the practicalities of their travel. They talked about it a lot, but the problem was that for all Rick's desires to be organized and have "plan", Daryl felt there really was no plan. All they really knew was that they were going, and they were hoping for the best. What Daryl hated most of all about all of this was that his time with Michonne was limited, and his time with Hope was even more limited. At least he could force Michonne to stay up a little later at night with him, but he felt like Hope was almost always asleep when he got to hold her after dinner, in the moments before he would go to sleep. He got up with Michonne whenever she fed Hope, and sat there rubbing the baby's face with his finger while she ate, but it hadn't been like the first week and half when he'd been able to watch her as much as he liked.

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Carol divided her time between the domestic daily chores, the packing that Rick supervised to some degree, and caring for Hope and Judith. Hershel, who had relatively few responsibilities, helped her out with all that he could, but he helped her out the most with the babies.

"Do you think Michonne is overdoing it?" Carol asked Hershel. He was changing Hope and fumbling with the pins, so Carol helped him.

"I do think she's overdoing it, but I can't really say that I don't understand." Hershel said. "She's a mother now."

"She was a mother before." Carol said. "You don't stop being a mother just because you lose your child. You still feel like a mother."

Hershel nodded his head a little. "But now she's a mother with a baby. Her first instinct is going to be to protect that baby, and she feels like she's not ready to do that."

"Do you think that Hope is going to make it?" Carol asked. She hated asking such a thing, but she'd been thinking, rather morbidly, about if any of them would make it. The truth was, everyone was thinking the same things. Everyone had become so down, and Carol knew it was because they were thinking about who wouldn't be with them for much longer.

"If Hope doesn't make it, it will either be a freak accident or it will be because Michonne doesn't make it." Hershel said. He had no idea how Michonne had lost her children before, but he was fairly confident that it was because she had not had any control whatsoever in the situation. Now that he saw how she was with Hope, he couldn't see her as being the kind of mother that would ever stand for anything threatening her child. "I'm concerned about Judith." He added.

Carol knew it was true. Judith had become more or less a community child. She had a number of caregivers, but no one had actually taken on the job of mothering her to the degree that they had that instinctual need to protect her. Carol hated to admit that even she lacked the same feelings for Judith that she had for Sophia. She would protect Judith, and she'd do it to the best of her abilities, but she didn't have the same drive to protect her. She would protect her more out of pity than necessity.

Judith was something of a challenge for the group. Rick had almost completely dismissed the child. There would be no indication to an outsider that it was his child. Carl had a certain relationship with her, but it was a complicated one. Carl was a complicated child. Carol didn't fully understand Carl, and she was pretty sure that even Carl didn't understand Carl. Carol wondered if Sophia would have become as complex as Carl had if she'd have lived longer. The problem was the world around them. As adults, with former life experience, they had trouble taking in all the changes around them in this cruel, unfair, cold world. Carl had come into himself a good bit in that world. He seemed to have less trouble understanding and accepting the things that happened than even Hershel, and it saddened Carol a little to see that. She wondered what life would be like for Judith and Hope, if they made it, when they had been raised entirely in this world that made so little sense, with no knowledge of what it had been like before. The world had been confusing and hard to deal with before all this, but now it was utter chaos and that was what was going to be the "normal" to the young ones.

"She's got me and Beth and Maggie." Carol said. Hershel nodded.

"I just wonder if it's enough."

"Is any of it enough, Hershel?" Carol asked.

"No." He said. "Carol…" Hershel started, "I'm not going to make it out there long."

"Don't be silly." Carol said, though secretly she had her doubts.

"I'm serious, Carol. I know it's survival of the fittest out there." Hershel said. Carol, concerned, had come over and put her arm around him. "I'm only saying this because I want you to tell my girls when it's time. I'm an old man. I've lived a good life, for the most part, and I'm ready to go when that time comes." He said. "I am really fine with it. Sometimes I think I'd rather go before all this happens, maybe quietly in my sleep. I've seen enough death." He added.

Carol didn't know what to say or if saying anything would be appropriate, so she just rubbed his back a moment, choosing not to say anything.

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As time ticked past, it seemed like everyone wanted to bury themselves in their work, but they'd been so efficient that most of what they had to do was getting done far faster than they'd intended. When they were left with silences, most of them kept busy circling the fences as though there were any huge threats on the horizon and as though someone hadn't passed by the same patch they were inspecting less than a half an hour earlier.

A few of them worked on their aim, shooting cans from a distance. Others just silently brooded.

Glenn was pretty sure if he had ever committed a crime great enough to warrant the death sentence, this is what it would feel like to wait on death row, ticking off the days on the wall and thinking about the fact that the end was coming.

The end was coming. There was nothing that could be done about it. He and Maggie had discussed it before the life of the prison had lulled them into their false sense of being safe. It was coming for everyone, and it always had, but now there seemed to be more of an urgency as to when it was coming. They had talked about what they would do if the other went first, and the only thing that had been made clear is that neither really wanted to be without the other.

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"I guess I'm as ready as I'm going to be." Michonne had said, their last night in the prison, according to Rick's calendar, which was scrawled across the kitchen wall. Daryl had been questioning her about her level of preparedness for whatever tasks they faced. She didn't feel like talking about it. Though she was at least confident that she could hold her own in a small fight, she knew she lacked the stamina and strength she'd had before, and that worried her more than a little.

"Can we make love?" Daryl asked her, kissing her shoulder and appreciating the time that their daughter was offering them. She was sleeping peacefully in her crib and she was recently full.

"We can if you want to." Michonne offered.

Michonne was not surprised by Daryl's forward movements, nor by his somewhat forceful behavior. She hadn't seen Daryl under the amount of stress that she was certain he was carrying around right now. She felt a little of the same feeling that she was sure was closing in on him and on everyone else. It was a feeling of impending doom. As Daryl pushed into her all she could think was "tonight we drink for tomorrow we die". She tried to put it out of her mind and focus on the moment she was in.

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The next day the group was nearly silent. Breakfast had consisted of maybe six words and they had only been necessary, Michonne thought. Gone were the days of idle chitchat and happy bantering that they had enjoyed through these last months. Carol gave out breakfast reluctantly and everyone ate with the same general nature. It was their last meal in the prison and feelings were written all over the faces of nearly everyone gathered.

Everyone was recalling their times at the prison. The moments when they had almost been able to forget entirely what was out there and what the world had become. Michonne, herself, was wrapped up in thought. She remembered the night that she'd sat drinking warm beer and listening to the group's idle chatting. She remembered the first clumsy experience with Daryl at the pharmacy, and what the looks on their faces had been when she'd unveiled the impending arrival of Hope. She remembered the feeling of victory that they had shared when they had ridded themselves of the Governor. So much had happened there, most of it trivial, but the trivial moments were the ones most savored these days.

After they ate, there was the job of insuring, for the last time, that they had everything they needed. Michonne watched as Daryl checked his saddlebags and people started piling into the vehicles.

"I'll take Hope." Carol said, gently lifting the baby out of Michonne's arms. Michonne hated to relinquish her, but it had been decided that she would travel with Daryl and Hope was much safer in the car with Carol than she would be on the motorcycle, even strapped to Michonne between the two of them. Without another word, Michonne watched Carol get into the car and she slung her katana, which she was holding in one hand, onto her back and walked toward the bike to settle in behind Daryl.

"Are you ready?" Rick asked approaching the bike.

"Yeah, man. I guess so." Daryl said. He could feel Michonne's warmth against him as she wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head against him.

"Tyreese is going to open the gates when you get down there and he's got a spot in the last car." Rick said. Remember not to go too fast. I'll flash my lights if I need you to stop or if there's a problem behind me. You signal if you need to stop."

"I got it, Rick." Daryl said.

"We need to get as far as possible today. Before dark we'll start looking for somewhere to hole up for the night." Rick said.

Daryl had only nodded in response and Rick turned to head back to the car. Daryl started the motorcycle and drove slowly through the prison yard and out of the gates, determined not to look back. He tried to focus, for a moment, only on the feeling of Michonne pressed against him.