A/N: 01/05/2015 This was my favorite scene in the entire episode of Consumed. So I had to write about it ;)

wildcow258: Yes, Carol is struggling very much over Lizzie and Mika. It's sad, but at the same time hopeful for her character to have a new beginning. Assuming the writers give her one. Thanks for your review, as always, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! ;)

Prodigium: Wow, really? It was real?! But it looked so unscripted! I guess it's just all the more for Melissa and Norman's acting abilities, they made it look so natural ;) Thanks for the review!

Terp4Life: Obviously, I love your reviews. I've thanked you a million times, yes, but I just can't get tired of it ^^ And I agree! Daryl and Carol have totally switched roles over the seasons; now Carol's the badass and Daryl is touchy-feely and trying to draw her out of her shell. It's different, but I like it. And aww, thank you! I'm sure you'll love this chapter all the same! :)

gibbymom: Yeah, I think so too. I think he was mostly just mad at himself that he couldn't save her so he lashed out at Carol. Thank you for sharing your thoughts, they're totally not lame! :)

AntoDixon: Thank you! This one should lift your spirits and get you laughing some! :)

Poppy P: Okay, I looked back at the scene (because I've only seen it once) and from what I saw there was only one child. I'm not saying you imagined it, because maybe I just didn't see it all, but I'm pretty sure there was one adult and one child :P I would totally rewrite that chapter if you were right, though, so if you've got evidence to back it up I'm all ears. And yes, role reversal Caryl is something to behold! Thanks for your review! :D

Reading time: 8 mins.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.

Chapter twenty-one: Tasteless~

The trail leading to Beth was wearing thin.

After spending the night at the shelter, they'd decided to head out into the town and head into a building for a better view of their surroundings, hoping to find clues regarding the car with the mysterious cross that had kidnapped the youngest of the Greene girls.

The building they entered was chosen for its height, and from the looks of it, it was an office building of some kind once, though he hadn't cared enough to check for any confirmation.

Carol wasn't talking to him again.

She had only said two words all morning, and that was only to thank him for taking care of the two walkers back at the shelter. He'd been trying to think of something to say to get her to open up, but decided against it. Instead, he chose to think about what she could have been through that was so terrible she couldn't talk to him about it. His mind went through several different scenerios, each one worse than the last, and after they'd made their way half way up the building to stop and check if they were high enough to see anything, he thought that maybe he'd found the right one.

Daryl stayed quiet as Carol slowly opened one of the doors in the skinny hallway, looking cautiously around before going inside.

He followed, taking his time to examine the surprisingly well-kept office on the other side of the door as Carol went straight to the window overlooking the town and far-off city.

It was then that she spoke conversationally for the first time that morning, and he'd been so transfixed on the disgustingly simple paintings on the walls that he'd almost missed it.

"How did we get here?" She said to herself, voice a low whisper.

Daryl immediately tore his attention away from the eye-bleeding canvases and walked up beside her, looking out over the dilapidated buildings and overrun streets.

"...Dunno," he said truthfully, answering even though she wasn't really speaking to him. "We just did."

"...You still haven't asked me what happened," she said finally, getting right down to the point. "After I met up with Tyreese, the girls..."

She was right, he hadn't asked her. Because he knew that she didn't want him to. She still seemed to expect him to drag it out of her, though, like some parent who was disappointed in their child. But he wasn't going to that. This was a delicate situation, and even though he didn't know shit about how to handle stuff like that, he was damn sure gonna try. For Carol.

"Yeah, I know what happened."

And in a sense, he did.

Lizzie and Mika weren't with her, and that could only mean one thing. "They ain't here."

"No," she said, still staring out the window. "It was worse than that."

Daryl looked at the side of her face and away from the destruction outside.

Her eyes were filling with tears.

She was trying to keep it together.

Hell, she'd been trying since they'd met up.

She might have been able to fool Tyreese and Rick and the others into thinking that she was okay, but he knew better. And she knew that he knew better. And maybe that was the only reason they were having this conversation now.

"You know, the reason I said we get to start over," he said, getting her attention. "Is because we gotta. It's the way it is."

"...Yeah," she said finally, and the glassiness in her eyes seemed to go away a bit.

They stood like that for a while, just enjoying each other's silent company, when Daryl spotted something amidst the wreckage and destruction beyond the window.

Carol turned to him, noticing his change in demeanor. "You see something?"

"I dunno," he said, squinting even though it didn't help. "Have to get a better look."

Wordlessly, Carol shifted her rifle off her shoulder and handed it to him, which he took gratefully and steadily shouldered to make quick use of its scope.

His eyes didn't deceive him.

Far off, hanging off the edge of the bypass, was a van. A work van, white in color, with two very familiar crosses painted on its back windows.

Just like the ones on the car they'd been following.

"Right there."

He handed Carol the scope, and she followed his pointing finger to the crumbling bridge.

"It's been there a while," she observed. "Definitely one of them."

"Definitely some kind of a lead," he agreed.

Carol hefted the gun by its strap back onto her shoulder and turned around, and his gaze following hers to the nice, clean water filter on the other side of the room.

"We should fill up," she said, and he agreed.

"Alright."

Carol walked over and began filling up their canteens, and Daryl took his time examining the fancy desk and plush leather office chair.

And then that painting.

"What is it?"

He turned around to see Carol staring curiously at him, having filled their canteens, and he couldn't resist sharing his opinion of the God-awful thing hanging on the wall.

"I bet this cost some rich prick a lotta money," he said, gesturing to the ridiculously simple painting hanging above the desk.

It was just so gross.

All 'earthy colors' and wide brush strokes. Nothing to it, really. Hell, he'd bet the lil' Asskicker could come up with something better than that.

Daryl wrinkled his nose at the thing, but when he turned towards the door to leave, Carol seemed to be appraising it.

The hell? He thought.

What was there to appreciate about an ugly smear of dirty oranges and yellows and greens and browns? Nothing, that was what.

And yet she still looked at it, deciding.

Not quite believing his eyes, he decided to go ahead and further share his opinion, feelings be damned.

"I bet a dog sat in paint," he began, getting her attention when he lifted a hand to it. "And wiped its ass all over the place to make this thing."

He demonstrated his point by making a dramatic sweeping motion with his hand, and Carol crossed her arms and gave him a look.

"Really? I kind of like it."

His eyes were nearly covered, his eyebrows sunk so low.

But then it hit him; oh, she must have been joking. Okay. He got it now.

Smirking, Daryl rebuked her with a light chuckle. "Stop."

She only crossed her arms tighter. "I'm serious."

His smirk faltered.

Was she serious?

Apparently he took too long to answer, because a beat later she was heading out of the room.

"You don't know me at all..." she muttered, shaking her head and walking out the door.

He knew she'd meant it as a joke, but her tone implied differently.

Still, he wasn't about to let her believe that he didn't know her any more than he believed that was a good painting hanging on that wall, even if she'd said it half-heartedly. He did know her, no matter how much she didn't want to admit it.

"Yep," Daryl said, keeping his tone light as he followed her. "Keep tellin' yourself that."

He took one last look at the ugly, dirtied canvas (he refused to call it a painting anymore), trying to figure out what she could have possibly siphoned from it that resembled a positive artistic endeavor.

He got nothing.

Shaking his head, Daryl wrinkled his nose and shut the door, hurrying to catch up with Carol.

Damn woman was tasteless.

A/N: Up next: The World.

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