Michonne had one foot caught in the chair she was sitting in, her arms folded across her knee, and her head resting on her arms. It was going to be a long night sitting in the plastic watch chairs across from Mark who was also obviously a little drowsy.

"You could take a nap if you like," Mark said. "I can keep watch for a while. It doesn't look like much is going on."

"I'm fine," Michonne mumbled. "That's the first rule of watch, no one sleeps on watch."

"But are you going to be able to handle being up all night after having been up all day? I mean don't you need to sleep?" Mark asked.

"I'll be fine," Michonne responded. "I'll sleep tomorrow."

They sat there in silence for a little while. Michonne didn't want to sleep right now. She wasn't sure what her mind would do to her if she tried to sleep right now. She was worried about what was going on in her house. How were Carol and Tyreese handling this? How was Daryl fairing with Sadie and three babies? Would Sadie bring Hope out to her if something went wrong? On top of all of these things, her mind kept drifting back to Sasha, to what had happened, to what could happen in a few days when the group went out to face this other group.

"I didn't really know her," Mark said. "Sasha seemed like a nice girl, though."

"She was," Michonne said, barely lifting her head from her arms. Michonne had cared for Sasha. Sasha was a good person, and she was a dependable member of the community. She was even a preferred companion to Michonne for water runs and the like. Losing her hurt, in fact it hurt more than Michonne really wanted to admit right now. "How long have you known Sadie?" Michonne asked after a minute, hoping to change the subject.

"I don't know," Mark admitted. "Long enough, I guess. She showed up one day with her brother, Paul."

"You care about her a lot, don't you?" Michonne asked, realizing her voice sounded a little odd from having thought about Sasha.

"I do," Mark said. "But then again it's not hard to care about Sadie. Her brother was the same way. He doted on her, called her his baby sister, even though I doubt he was two years older than she was."

"Tyreese was Sasha's big brother," Michonne said. She didn't know how he was going to take the loss. He'd seemed OK at dinner, at least as fine as could be expected, but she also knew that for some people reality took its sweet time sinking in.

"I'm sure it's not easy. I had a brother, but I don't even know what happened to him. He lived in California with the rest of my family. I guess I can sort of convince myself that maybe they weren't affected like we were on this coast. Maybe it's all normal there, you know?" Mark said.

"Yeah," Michonne said. She didn't believe there was anywhere that wasn't affected, but if it made people feel better to think that, then who was she to tell them otherwise?

"I don't really know what's worse, though, knowing what happened to your family, to your friends, or not knowing," Mark said after a minute.

Michonne wasn't sure in the darkness, but she thought she heard his voice crack a little. She couldn't respond to what he had said. She didn't have an answer for it. Both were hard, there was no easy way these days. Loss was loss, whether you were there or not. You were still acutely aware that something, that someone, that was part of your life was now just gone. It had always been that way, really, but now it was different somehow. Before there were situations where you lost people and it was sudden, but these days it was always sudden. There was no such thing as being even a little prepared for it.

"Six of one, half a dozen of the other, I guess," Michonne said finally.

Mark just grunted in the darkness.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 11111

Michonne thought she must have dozed off a little. When she became aware of her situation, the dawn was just beginning to break and she felt like she'd been hit by a semi-truck. She groaned a little and raised her head from its position.

"You alright?" Mark asked.

Michonne snapped out of her daze and turned her gaze toward him, her neck catching. She reached her hand up to knead her neck a little.

"I tried to get you to go lie down somewhere, but you wouldn't do it," Mark said.

Michonne vaguely remembered having some conversation with Mark and him tugging at her, but she couldn't remember it all that clearly. Mark got out of his chair and walked around behind her, kneading her neck and shoulders suddenly.

Michonne jerked away from him, not prepared at all for the touch.

"Sorry," Mark said, backing away. "Didn't mean anything, just trying to help," he said, walking back toward his chair.

Michonne didn't say anything for a minute. She was starting to wonder what time it was and if Carol was going to be up to fix breakfast. She wasn't sure if Carol was in that frame of mind, and she felt like she should go and check on her. First, though, she had to go to the bathroom.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Michonne said, finding her voice.

Mark got up and offered her a hand. She hesitated a minute and he laughed.

"I don't know if you know this or not, but I'm gay," Mark said. "I'm about as gay as they come. In fact, I sleep in the same bed with Sadie, and neither of us are fans of clothes, and nothing has even started to happen. I'm that gay. Now I can see you're stiff and I can help you get up, but if you don't want me to, you're welcome to wrestle your numb behind out of that chair on your own."

Michonne smiled. For a brief moment she'd seen a side of Mark that she hadn't seen yet. A side that she hoped to see again, in the future, when all of this was behind them and the community was back to what it had been, back before they were aware of all the danger lurking just on the other side of the wooded area across the street from them.

She reached a hand out to him and he smiled, pulling her up. He was right, much of her lower body felt numb.

"After I go to the bathroom I'll check on breakfast," she said. "Then we both can get some sleep."

"Sounds like a fabulous idea," Mark said, returning to his own chair.

Michonne walked off toward the area where they'd dug their bathrooms.

1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Daryl was pretty sure it had been the worst night that he'd had in a while. He officially hated being in bed without Michonne next to him. His bed felt empty, and that was a feeling he didn't like at all. He'd been thinking about Tyreese, and how he must feel losing his sister. He was sure it hadn't been an easy night across the hall.

Sadie slept like a rock, and just as Daryl had been drifting off that baby of hers had started crying. She was keeping it with her, in a bassinet that Maggie had found for her, so that she didn't have far to go to retrieve the child, but he felt like it cried every time he got close to sleep. He was sure that Hope had cried like that in the beginning too, but he'd forgotten much of that. It seemed ages ago.

Every time the child had cried, Daryl had to crawl down to the foot of the bed and continuously poke at Sadie with his foot until she stirred. As soon as she was awake she'd scramble around, feeling for the child in the dark. Halfway through the night he'd given her a flashlight, deciding that it might be stressful for her to be in a strange room in the pitch black. He'd reasoned that if she couldn't hear and she couldn't see, she might be a little disoriented. She'd thanked him for that. A few times she didn't wake easily and he'd worried that he might need to check her for a pulse, prepare to put her down if she turned. But she'd always woken up just as he'd started to become really concerned.

Daryl crawled out of bed now, stretching. He'd have to help get the girls ready. He got out of bed and stopped beside Sadie who was stretched on the pallet at the foot of his bed, the baby sleeping near her. He nudged her in the ribcage with his foot, lifting her a little each time. Finally she'd stirred, stretched, and rolled over. She looked disoriented at first, and then he could tell that reality was slowly sinking in for her.

"Gotta get up," he said. "Gotta get the babies ready an' go ta breakfast."

She stared at him. Then she stretched and started to get up, so he assumed that she had understood him and he started toward the nursery to get the girls up and start getting them dressed.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 1

Michonne had gone to the bathroom in the semi privacy of one of the "stalls" that they'd built. As she stumbled out, still fully waking, she'd been surprised to find Carol sitting in the grass, not too far from the series of stalls. Michonne got concerned and walked toward her.

"Carol, are you OK?" Michonne asked. She walked over to Carol and kneeled down next to her. She could immediately tell, however, that Carol was not OK. She was sobbing.

Michonne hugged Carol to her, holding her a moment and trying to figure out what to do, what to say.

"Do you want to go somewhere else?" Michonne asked. "Do you want to talk about it, or do you normally cry by the bathrooms at dawn?"

"I was just thinking," Carol said, sobbing.

"About?" Michonne pressed.

"Nothing, it's stupid," Carol said.

Michonne scoffed a little. "Nothing that makes you cry in the grass downwind of the bathrooms is stupid," Michonne offered.

"I've got to potty train Judith soon," Carol said, "and I don't know how. It's not like it was with Sophia, nothing is like it was, I don't know how!"

Michonne hugged Carol to her. The concern she was voicing was, to some degree, a legitimate concern, but Michonne wasn't fooled at all into believing that it was what was really going on here. Carol was having a breakdown of sorts, and it may very well have been the thought of potty training Judith that triggered it, but that wasn't what it was about. Michonne understood those things. They all had their breakdowns, and they were all allowed to have them. She wasn't going to deny Carol hers, at least not completely. She'd let her cry it out for a bit, speak the nonsense she needed to in order to get it under control again, and then she'd slap her back into reality if she had to.

"Listen, you're not alone in this, OK? I'll have to do the same thing with Hope, and Sadie's got Paul now, we'll figure it out, it's not the end of the world," Michonne said, thinking of the irony of the phrase even as she said it.

"I'm so tired of it," Carol said, sobbing into Michonne's chest.

"Tired of what, Carol?" Michonne asked. She could imagine a million things that Carol might be tired of without straining herself to think much at all, but she was going to give Carol the opportunity to work through her own demons.

"Tired of the death," Carol said, "tired of people dying for me, tired of people dying for me."

Michonne shushed Carol then, rubbing her back.

"No one has died for you Carol, and no one has died because of you," she said.

"T-Dog, Hershel…," Carol started, "and now Sasha. They've all died, Michonne, because of me."

"No, Carol, they didn't. You've told me about T-Dog, even Hershel told me about T-Dog. He was bit when he went with you. He didn't die because of you. He was going to die anyway," Michonne offered. "We all know that when we've been bit we're going to die. Anyone would save someone they cared about if they could, especially if they knew they were going to die anyway. If anything, you gave him a hero's death. The same for Hershel. He didn't die for you anymore than he died for any of us, any more than he died for himself, but he died a hero. Sasha was bit…" Michonne stopped for a second, a sob welling up in her own chest. She willed it down knowing that now was not the time for it break to the surface. "She was going to die, and if she kept any Walkers from getting to you, then you gave her that, you let her die a hero, and that's the greatest death we can hope for anymore. It's a death with some purpose. It's a gift," Michonne said.

"It should have been me," Carol said. "Sasha had so much more to offer, I don't have anything, Michonne…you've said it yourself, I don't do anything important for the group, Sasha was a fighter, and she could have helped everyone."

Michonne had never seen Carol in the condition that she was in right now, puddling into her, sinking down against her. It almost scared Michonne for a moment. She was glad, for a fleeting instant, that neither of them was armed, afraid of what Carol might do right now.

"Don't say that, Carol. I never said that and it's not true, even if I did say it," Michonne argued. "You can't do this, you don't get this indulgence. Rick can fall apart and to hell with him when he does, but you can't do this. You've got one thing, Carol, that no one else has here, and do you know what that is?"

Carol just sobbed for a minute before responding in the negative.

"Carol, you're the rock of this group. OK? You're the one that everyone counts on to be that rock. You can't fall apart on us, and you can't fall apart on Tyreese. He needs you right now, and you can't take that away from him. Everyone who comes into this group realizes it almost automatically, you're the one that we can depend on, the one that holds it all together, and whether or not you think that's important right now, in the crazy, fucked up world that we've found ourselves in, that's everything," Michonne argued.

Carol didn't respond for a bit, she just sobbed against Michonne. Michonne indulged her, deciding that she wouldn't protest, though she was terribly uncomfortable, until Carol was calm. She'd never seen the woman like this before, and Michonne wasn't one to leave a friend when that friend needed her.

"I didn't ask to be everyone's rock," Carol said, finally, still crying but calmer than before. Michonne rubbed her hand over Carol's arm and back, trying to soothe her farther, realizing that she was making some progress.

"No one asks for their positions these days," Michonne said. "We don't control how others perceive us, whether positively or negatively, we just accept the role we're given. You're no different than the rest of us. You wear it well, Carol, and your role is a noble role, and it's a respectable role. It's a role that probably has even more stress behind it than those of us who are just supposed to be the protectors. If we fail, it's a job hazard, if you fail, people don't know how to recover. It's easier to think that someone known for their physical strength just wore out, but it's a whole different idea to think that someone known for their emotional strength just wore out."

Carol looked at Michonne for a moment with pleading eyes, still not raising herself from her position of leaning on her.

"I'm not that strong, Michonne…Ed…" she started.

Michonne interrupted her, knowing the stories all too well. "Maybe the time with Ed taught you that strength, or maybe it was that strength that got you through the time with Ed, I don't know, but what counts now is that it's there. I need that strength from you, Daryl needs that strength from you, Tyreese needs that strength from you, and goodness knows that Judith needs it. Everyone needs it from you. I remember that one time, when I thought things were about as bad as they could get, you told me that it didn't matter anymore if the glass was half full or if it was half empty, if you were thirsty, you drank it and everything would work itself out. I need you to dig down deep right now and remember that," Michonne pleaded. "It's your damn lumpy oatmeal, your line dried clothes, and the fact that you just handle shit that gets most of us through things like Sasha's death. Don't back out on us now," Michonne said.

Carol was quiet for a minute, resting against Michonne, still enough to be lifeless. Finally she stirred and sat up, looking at Michonne. Michonne took her thumbs and gently wiped the tears from under Carol's eyes.

"I'm sorry," Carol said after a minute. Her voice was calmer now, more like it normally was and Michonne was glad to see that she was slowly transforming into her old self. "I'm sorry," she repeated, wrapping her hand around Michonne's wrist.

"It's OK," Michonne said quietly. "We all have our moments."

"I guess I need to get breakfast started," Carol said after a minute.

Michonne smiled. "I'll help you," she said.

"You need to rest," Carol protested, starting to struggle away.

"I will, I promise I'll rest, just after breakfast," Michonne said, starting to climb to her feet.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 11111

Daryl and Sadie were the first two to breakfast, both looking worse for the wear after their night together, but all three children were dressed to some degree. They hovered over Michonne and Carol as they fixed breakfast and Michonne finally took Hope to feed her. She waved her hand, drawing Sadie's attention.

"I can feed Paul, if he's still hungry," she offered.

"He might need more," Sadie said, "but right now he's fine, take your time."

Mark, seeing the crowd beginning to gather outside of headquarters and not far from the gates, had decided to go inside and catch himself a few minutes of sleep before breakfast.

Michonne had to admit that her eyes were burning and she was ready to eat and go and lie down herself.

1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

After breakfast everyone went their separate ways.

Sadie had declared that she had an idea about a plan of attack for the group to take, and everyone was anxious to hear it. No one liked the idea of entering the other camp without any kind of solid plan at all, so they'd left her to do what she was going to do. Carol had gone to check on Tyreese, and the others were tooling about dealing with things they felt needed to be dealt with.

No one who had known Sasha well seemed to know what to do with themselves. One part of their instinct told them to mourn, while the other told them to prepare for their own possible death in the upcoming days.

Michonne noticed the obvious change in everyone and suspected those like Maggie, Jimmy, and Tyreese who had been closest to Sasha were trying to trick themselves into postponing their mourning. As though they could wait until after the battle to let all their emotions catch up with them. It was a new way of life, though, so she wondered if they were capable of tricking their minds into that, or if they'd find themselves as overwhelmed at some point as Carol had earlier that morning.

One way or the other, Michonne was exhausted. She just wanted to lie down for a minute, or an hour, or five hours. Honestly she didn't care, as long as she was lying down. She was thankful when Daryl offered to walk her to the house. She'd left Hope, kissing her briefly, with Sadie and gone with him.

Daryl basically undressed her. With each garment he removed she felt some relief and some release. She sunk back into the bed, not remembering it to have ever been so comfortable. He sunk in next to her, his arm around her, telling her that he'd stay with her until she drifted off, though she couldn't imagine it to be too far in the future.

Daryl stayed there, lying on the bed fully dressed, until he heard Michonne's methodic breathing. She was asleep, deeply asleep, and he knew it. He lingered a moment longer, savoring the feeling of her body pressed against his. He'd been without it through the night, and he stayed for a bit, hoping to soak up enough of it to last him through the night that was coming. He honestly didn't care about anything except feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of her ribcage as she breathed and etching his hand ever so gently over the rising in her belly that he knew was his child. He wanted to stay there all day, and the only that drove him to finally rise was knowing that he needed to be out there, working with others, and guaranteeing that above all she was safe, as were his children. He kissed her gently on the cheek before getting up, fully aware that she hadn't noticed the kiss.

1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

AN: We've got a few more "character development" chapters to go, I think (if all goes as planned, but the story does take on a mind of its own) so hang with me if you're not into that sort of thing.