A/N: 12/21/2014 Thanks again to Prettyprincess45 and livonce for reviewing (I can't put periods between words or it'll disappear altogether for some reason), it means a lot :)

wildcow258: Thank you! I really wanted the changes in Daryl's thoughts to be subtle and believable. I'm glad you think I'm doing such a good job, because I love writing from inside his mind! ^^

Reading time: 4 mins.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.

Chapter five: Alright~

After the CDC failed to be a place of refuge, they stumbled upon a farm.

They had the cop's idiot son to thank for it, him getting shot and all. Still, it had pushed them in the direction they needed to go for a hot meal and a roof over their heads.

Carol had lost Sophia. A herd of walkers passed them while they were trying to fix the RV on the highway, and Sophia had run away and never come back. As a result, Carol became frantic. She was constantly fidgeting and worrying and looking in every direction, often to the point of tears. He'd be damned if her eyebrows weren't stuck in that worried frown by now.

Rick had originally been the head of the search, but as the days passed and evidence grew thin, he had taken it upon himself to go look for her, to keep searching when no one else would. Granted, he never ended up actually finding anything, but he still combed the woods every morning and every night just in case. It annoyed him to no end how they could all just give up so easily, just because it wasn't their kid who was missing, wasn't their problem. The more he thought about it the more it burned his insides, and the more determined he became to find that little girl.

Carol had started crying again.

Just when she had started to get better this mess had to go and happen. And it was hardly encouraging when he came back to the RV at the end of the day to find her bawling her eyes out. Not to mention hard to sleep.

He wanted to be irritated; he hardly got any shut-eye nowadays thanks to her endless tears. But knowing that her child was missing, the one thing that made her happy in this screwed up world, and that he was part of the reason she wasn't holding that little girl right this minute, he couldn't bring himself to be. And it was on one of those sleepless nights that he decided to go out and do something about it.

Daryl held tightly to the flower in his hand, nearly crushing it with his grip, as he entered the RV.

It had been another unsuccessful search, and with everyone's nerves wearing thin, he figured he could at least soothe the mourning mother whose shoulders beared it all.

He stepped silently towards the back of the RV to the sobbing woman on the fold-out bed, and quietly placed the single white flower in an empty beer bottle and set it down on the counter. No, it wasn't some 'fancy shit vase', but it was the best he could do on short notice.

He turned to leave, but stopped when he noticed Carol had stopped crying.

She looked up at him, wiped her eyes, and then glanced at the flower.

He fidgeted under her gaze, or rather the kindness in her gaze, and in order to overcome his sudden feeling of uneasiness he decided to explain the nature (or rather, meaning) of his gesture. Didn't want her thinking he was sweet on her or nothin'.

"It's a Cherokee rose," he said, and already he felt his awkwardness disappear. "They'd be given to grieving Indian mothers, because they believed it would protect them and their children's spirits."

Carol's eyes saddened considerably at the thought of childless mothers, and he immediately wished he would have just kept his damn mouth shut, but then she smiled and looked at the roses, and when her eyes filled with tears he knew it was out of appreciation and not contempt.

"...Thank you," she said after a while, and he knew she meant it.

He nodded, then swallowed down his nervousness as he shifted his feet.

...

...

...

Abruptly he turned on his heel and left, trying not to just run out of that heat-box of an RV in the process.

His cheeks burned and the back of his neck felt like it was on fire, and the fact that it was over a hundred degrees that day wasn't helping.

It may have been embarrassing as all get out to give her that damned flower, and he may have beat the living tar out of anyone who had so much as seen a glimpse of him and Carol, but now that it was over it hardly mattered.

She appreciated his efforts in finding her daughter, and she appreciated him.

Carol was alright.

A/N: Up next: Sincere.

I didn't remember the conversation about the Cherokee rose exactly, but I knew the gist of it. I could have gone back on Netflix and reviewed it real quick, but I didn't want it to just be a bunch of dialog that you've already heard anyway. Regardless, I hope it was good enough for improv :P

See you tomorrow!