They had taken the day for mourning. Carol had suggested it at breakfast, seeing that Jimmy and Junior didn't even come to eat, and Daryl had nodded his agreement. Everyone would do with the day what they wanted, what they needed to do, in order to come to terms with the group's loss. If they wanted to work, if that's what was best for them, then they were welcome to do it, but he wouldn't expect anyone to keep working.

Mourning, Michonne thought, what a luxury. She didn't know how she felt entirely. She was dealing with so many emotions that she was finding it difficult to pinpoint any one of them exactly. She had bathed Hope twice since it all happened. Once the night before, and once this morning. She'd made sure that the water was the perfect temperature, heating just a little too hot before she brought it in, so that when it cooled it would be exactly right. Now Hope was sleeping on her chest, and she was leaning into the arm of the sofa. The smell of baby lotion hanging in the air.

Daryl had gone to work. Michonne knew that was what he needed. She needed the quiet and he needed to be doing something, anything. They hadn't really talked about what happened yet, she couldn't really talk about it yet, and she knew that Daryl was still processing everything. For as easy going and laid back as he could be, Michonne had no illusions about the fact that Daryl was terribly complex when it came to processing his emotions. He'd been a little distant this morning, offering her a kiss, kissing Hope, but not really saying anything else as he slipped out the door to go to work after walking her home from breakfast. She didn't take it personally. His distance had nothing to do with them, and it had everything to do with the fact that he still didn't know how he felt or what he wanted to say about it.

Carol was working too. Michonne had stepped out on the porch earlier and seen her, wandering about, doing everything and nothing all at the same time. Tyreese had taken to quietly following her around, helping Judith keep up, like a shadow. Keep the family going. Michonne thought. That was Carol's mantra, and the way she lived every day. Michonne suspected that something in Carol thought that if she never stopped doing all the little things that she did, they'd all make it. They did depend on her, not for the big things, but for the little things. The things that made this life seem uncomplicated, even though deep down they knew that it wasn't. Carol wasn't going to be the one to save them from a herd of Walkers, and she wasn't going to be the one to solve their problems, but she was the one that offered them hot bath water, the one that made sure that food magically appeared in front of them throughout the day, the one that made sure that they got some luxury, some treat in their ration boxes from time to time. She was just there, quietly tending to the little things, ignoring the fact that most of her efforts were taken for granted.

Michonne sighed. In her sleep, Hope was twitching. Michonne rubbed her back gently, hoping that whatever she was dreaming about was a good dream, and not something about the horror she'd been witness to the day before. In response, she stopped twitching and started making sucking noises. Michonne smiled at her. She was torn, although she was sad to know that Frank and Dora were gone, just like that, she was grateful that she wasn't suffering in the same manner that some of the others were. She had been petrified, running across the community, that she would find a grisly scene, which she had, but that it would have stripped her of her precious daughter, or even of Carol, who she realized now had become more important to her than she'd imagined she ever would. She felt a little guilty for the relief that she had felt when she'd seen Carol there, unnerved but unharmed, and when she'd explored Hope's tiny body, finding nothing more than a scrape on her leg, likely caused when Dora had fallen with her, Judith having suffered similar scrapes.

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"You know, I could carry something," Tyreese said, following along behind Carol. She had her hands full with plates of food that she was carrying to Jimmy and Junior.

"You are carrying something," Carol said.

Tyreese was carrying Judith on his hip. She'd been trying to toddle behind Carol, but was pleased to find that he had an easier time keeping in step with Carol than she did, and now she was just hanging on him, using him as a transportation system. Whenever he'd stop for any reason she'd point at Carol and fuss at him, like he'd temporarily forgotten his job.

Carol tried not to pay attention to it, but she couldn't miss the blood in the street, and on the porch of the house as she went toward the door. It was like a crime scene, except it wasn't under any kind of investigation.

"Knock, please," She said to Tyreese. He obediently knocked on the door. They waited a few minutes, but no one came to the door. Tyreese knocked again. "Open it," Carol said finally. Tyreese opened the door and they stepped inside.

"Dear Lord!" Carol said, looking around the living room. "Jimmy, Junior, are you up there?" She called up the stairs. There was no response, so she started up the stairs with Tyreese following behind her.

"Juju!" Judith called out.

At the top of the stairs all the doors were closed, but Carol could hear muffled sounds from behind one of the doors. She walked over to it.

"Jimmy, Junior, open up," she said. "I'm not going away, so you might as well open the door."

A few minutes later a red eyed Jimmy opened the door, sniffing. He didn't say anything, just stood there a minute.

They were Dora and Frank's boys, now I guess they're my boys. Carol thought.

She pushed in the room. They'd apparently both been sitting on the bed together and the roll of toilet paper and the scattered tissues told her that they'd been hiding away from everyone, crying out their feelings. Both were sniffling now.

"You don't have to hide it from me," Carol said. She put the plates of food on their dresser and sat down on the bed next to Junior, putting her arm around him. "Come here," she said softly, reaching an arm toward Jimmy. He sat next to her and she hugged them both. Tyreese stood to the side with Judith, watching them. "We all cry sometimes. I'm not one of those people that's crazy enough to buy into the old story that real men don't cry. I've seen some of the greatest men I've known cry since all this happened. I don't see why you two should be any different. You cared about them and you lost them. That will make anyone cry."

Both the boys were crying now, quietly, and she continued to hug them. They didn't want to talk about it and she understood that. She caught herself tearing up as well.

Judith sucked her finger and rested her head on Tyreese's chest. He wondered what she must be thinking about all of this. She knew Dora and Frank. She might not understand where they had gone, but she would notice that they weren't there anymore.

"Jimmy, if you want, you can move into our house," Tyreese offered. "Both of you can. There's an extra bedroom."

"Or I could help you get your own place set up if you'd like that," Carol said softly. "Or you can stay here, I could help you clean it up. Whatever you'd like better."

"I think I'd we're going to take the extra room with Dominique, Stella, and Chelsea," Junior said after a minute, finally controlling himself. He was sniffling again.

"OK," Carol said, "you need to eat something, and then we'll help you take your stuff over there."

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"I had a feeling you might be down here," Rick said, stepping into the house they were tearing down. Daryl was in there finishing up some of what Maggie had left undone in the downstairs. He stopped when Rick walked up.

"Yeah man, just wanted to get my mind on somethin', you know? Tryin' to figure out how we gonna actually do this. Don't seem as easy now as it did when we started." Daryl said.

Rick looked around. The problem with how they were going to actually do this was that they'd jumped into doing it without much of a plan, none of them really knowing where to start. How do you tear down a two story house by hand?

"I think the key is going to be going from the top down. Before we compromise any of the structure on the bottom floor," He offered.

"I think you're right. Last damn thing we want is the fuckin' roof fallin' in on somebody's head," Daryl said.

Rick could see that Daryl was thinking, and that he was thinking about more than just how they were going to continue with the project in front of them. He had to admit that to this point the group was making what seemed like good decisions. The plan was solid, and since they'd come here there had only been a few slip ups, but it was those slip ups that were worrying Daryl.

"Listen, Daryl, I know I haven't exactly been the most supportive, or the most helpful about things, but if you want to talk about everything, I'm still here for you," Rick said finally.

Daryl scratched his head, leaning on the axe handle.

Rick had been a good friend to him, and before he'd taken his little vacation into insanity, he'd been a pretty reliable person. It had just been too much for him, losing Lori and gaining Judith, whose paternity everyone questioned, all at the same time. He couldn't balance that with the threat of the Governor and with all the other stress and strain that came along with feeling like you were responsible for so many lives.

Daryl could understand, to some degree, how Rick had gone off the edge like he had. He was back now, or at least it seemed that way, and Daryl figured that he'd finally come to terms with things. Daryl didn't know if he could say the same thing wouldn't happen to him if he lost Michonne or Hope.

"It's OK, man, I don't hold nothin' against ya," Daryl said. "You just weren't thinkin' clear."

Daryl's mind wasn't as clear today as he wanted it to be. That's why he was working. Working distracted him, at least a little, and kept him from thinking about all the different ways that things could have gone wrong the day before. It kept him from thinking about all the different ways that things could go wrong in the future.

"I almost lost my little girl, you know," Daryl said. He wasn't sure how Rick would respond. Since the day that Daryl had punched him in the face, the two of them had avoided most conversation about Michonne or Hope. To Daryl's surprise, however, there was absolutely no negativity that came from Rick at this moment. He put his hand on Daryl's shoulder and squeezed.

"The important thing is that you didn't lose her," Rick said.

He had to admit to himself that even he'd become comfortable here. This plan could open up space for them to grow food. Carol was going to can whatever they didn't eat so that none of it would go bad. It would buy them a lot of time here. As he'd been settling down, clearing his mind, allowing himself to grieve for Lori, grieve for the life that he was never getting back, he was realizing also that this life wasn't as dire as it had once seemed. Daryl had been right the day that he'd said they were going nowhere, and it didn't matter how long it took them to get there. Rick could see that now. Maybe somewhere out there someone had reconstructed the world they'd known before, but there was no need to rush after it when they didn't know where they were going. They were only buying time, Rick was still certain of that and yesterday's events had reconfirmed that, but at least it seemed like they were buying more of it than they maybe would have before. He was beginning to think that maybe Carl was going to have a chance to grow up, maybe even a chance to get old. The life they were living wasn't normal to them, but it was as close to normal as it could be for Carl, and for Judith.

"You know, Daryl, you were right that day that you lost it with me," Rick ventured. "I did envy you your family, I guess I still do a little, but I'm happy for you that you didn't lose your daughter."

Daryl looked at Rick, studied him for a moment, and then went to absentmindedly biting the skin on his thumb, an action that he often did when he was thinking.

"You can't get Lori back, man, but you could still have a family," Daryl said. "You got your kids, you got Rachel."

Rick laughed a little. "Yeah, I've got Rachel," he said. He was quiet for a minute, a bit of a smirk still on his face. "I don't love Rachel, Daryl. You know that."

"You could learn to love her," Daryl offered.

Rick considered it for a minute. "I don't think it's the same," he said. "And I've got Carl, but I've got so much I need to make up to him. So much time that I need to make up to him."

"So make it up to him. We got time now, Rick. I don't know how much of it we got, but we got some," Daryl said. "He ain't a bad kid, but you better hurry up an' make him into the man you want him to be, 'fore the dough sets."

Rick nodded.

"You got Judith, it ain't too late for her neither," Daryl added.

Rick shook his head. "No, I don't have Judith," he said. "I can't even explain how I feel about her, yet. I don't even fully understand it myself. I'm starting to understand it, but it I'm not sure yet. Sometimes I look at her and I resent her," he finished.

"What you resent Judith for? She ain't done nothin' to nobody," Daryl said.

"I told you that I don't understand it yet. I was so mad at Lori, for so many things, and Judith just reminds me of that," Rick said. "I've let Judith go, I had to. She's where she belongs now. She's better off just growing up thinking that Carol is her mother. It'll be easier for her that way."

"What about Carl? What's he think about it?" Daryl asked.

"I don't know. I never asked him, and he hasn't said much about it. I think he knows that I just can't talk about it right now," Rick said.

Daryl thought about it. Maybe Rick just needed more time. Maybe these were all just baby steps for him. It was obvious that Rick wanted to talk to him, even though he didn't know what to tell him. Sometimes he felt like that too, sometimes he just needed to talk to Michonne, or to Tyreese, and he wasn't really expecting them to give him an answer. Maybe that's what Rick needed from him.

"Maybe you should talk to Carl about it sometime," Daryl ventured. "He's a good kid. I'm sure he'd understand, even if you don't."

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"Hey, you want to play a game?" Glenn asked. Beth had shut herself in her room. He hadn't ventured up there to see how she was dealing with things, but if she was anything like Maggie then it wasn't good. Dora and Frank's death had trudged up every feeling she had about losing her own parents, and some of those wounds were a little too fresh still. She'd spent most of the day in and out of fits of sobbing.

"No," she coughed out between sobs, "I don't want to play a game."

She was sitting in the floor, her knees drawn up to her chest, blowing her nose at intervals into the various handkerchiefs that he'd collected up for her.

Glenn wondered about his own parents sometimes, but Maggie had been forced to see hers go, and having seen Dora torn apart reminded her all too well of Hershel's sacrifice. Glenn sat beside her and pulled her to him.

"Those kids, the ones that travelled around with them," Maggie said, her sobbing calming for a bit, "losing them would be just like if we lost some of ours…Carl said Frank almost got Carol before he shot him. Glenn, we could have lost Carol yesterday. We could lose anyone at any time. It could even be us next time."

"Shh, don't think like that, Maggie," Glenn said. "We're safe right now. Don't think about who we might lose or you'll just sit here and make yourself sick. Frank was old, and Dora was too. We could live to be old, Maggie. We actually have a chance now."

Glenn knew these moods. They were a hopeless spiral. Maggie would cry about it, she'd worry herself sick over who they could lose, what it would be like to lose each person, and she'd go through the details of how their lives would change if they lost that person. She wouldn't stop until she'd been through all the grisly details…usually by then she'd be so exhausted that she'd fall asleep, and if they were lucky she'd wake up in another mood entirely, one where she was determined not to think about, one where she was determined to enjoy the life they did have. Glenn just wished sometimes that he could fast forward through the lows and get her back to the place where she didn't look at tomorrow as some drawn out funeral for everyone around them.

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Carol put Judith in her crib, and offered her a bottle of water, as she typically did. Judith immediately laid down with it. She'd been humming for a while and Carol knew she was ready to go to sleep. There would be no protest tonight. She'd spent most of the day either hanging on Tyreese or running after them when his hands had been occupied with other things. She was tired.

Behind her, Michonne was putting Hope down too. She was already asleep, having fallen asleep while being fed and never really waking up afterwards.

They hadn't talked much today. Really it seemed like no one was very talkative. Dinner had been a silent affair. Glenn had come for food for his household, Dominique had come for food for his, and everyone else had come to eat, but had left behind their desire for chitchat.

The past day's actions meant something different to everyone, and Carol realized that. She wasn't going to push anyone to talk about it if they didn't want to. Maybe tomorrow they'd all come creeping back out of their shells.

"Goodnight, Michonne," Carol said softly as she started out of the nursery, noticing that Michonne was just leaning on the side of the crib, looking at Hope. "I'll leave the lamp."

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When Michonne finally crawled in bed, Daryl was already softly snoring. She eased into the bed, trying not to wake him. He did wake, though, at the shifting of the mattress, long enough to put his arm around her and shift up against her. He kissed her neck, but didn't say anything, probably having already drifted back off to sleep.

Michonne closed her eyes and tried to sleep, listening to his breathing and feeling the comforting weight of his arm around her waist.