Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: For subversivegrrl. Kudos to chestertonsfence on tumblr for birthing the plottish details. Thank god someone was on point that early in the morning when I saw that post, because it certainly wasn't me. This is a fic meant to explain the apparent closeness between Tara and Carl that we saw when they hugged in the background in "Coda" when GreatM and Father Gabriel's group re-united in the church yard.

Warnings: *Contains: adult language, adult content, season five spoilers up to but not necessarily including the mid-season finale, general discussion of gender and sexuality with a minor, reference to the usual emotional trauma, hurt/comfort and unexpected bonding along the way.

Girl Talk (not your standard issue)

"So hot, yet so disappointingly straight," she muttered, slinking back into neutral territory. Grateful that it was only the church pews that stood witness to her self-imposed walk of shame as she found the first free space that looked halfway decent and practically face-planted head first across the bench.

God, she was a mess.

She snorted into the curve of her elbow. Stretching out gingerly as about a million places she hadn't really registered were sore throbbed to the forefront. Her knee was still killing her. It'd healed a bit, somehow, but it was still a snarly little ball of nope-nope-nope whenever she pressed her luck.

"It's actually kind of romantic. I can imagine the poster title now: 'The Last Lesbian Alive,'" she quipped, wrinkling her nose as the stale backwash of her breath hit her. "Destined to be sexless and alone. Oh god, I am an HBO special," she moaned, digging her face into the curve of her arm, not realizing she'd said it out loud until the pew in front of her creaked and a decidedly strained, pre-teen voice wafted through the dust and carpet lint.

"What did you say?"

She jerked up, finding herself staring back at big blue eyes, freckles and a wide-brimmed hat. Oh crap, what was his name again? Carl? Carlos? Nope. Definitely Carl.

"Nothing," she said reflexively, relaxing a fraction and even grinning a bit when he fixed her with a look that reminded her of Lilly – when she knew she was full of shit but was too tired to start digging.

"Okay, so, maybe not nothing-nothing," she clarified, keeping an eye on him as he peered down at her, curious but still far too serious for his own good. One hand firm on the handle of the old filing box his sister was napping in, blowing spit bubbles in her sleep.

"It's just- well. I miss people. I guess. I miss being able to go out and meet new people, you know?" she started, approaching the matter with remarkable delicacy, uncertain of just how old he actually was as she tried not to make the explanation part as awkward as it sounded in her head.

Of course, due to the fact that she was a complete social deviant, delicacy didn't last long.

"I miss girls," she whined, drawing it out like Meghan during her terrible twos, regretting nothing when the kid blinked and blushed a rather adorable shade of red. The hint of a smile tugging at the corners as she trailed off on a high note.

"You…you like girls too?"

"Yup," she replied, popping the 'p' as she sat up, draping herself across the back of the bench so they could talk face to face. Figuring that, if anything, he was a sympathetic ear. Hell, the kid was probably just as lonely as she was. He probably hadn't been around kids his age since, well, ever.

"Do you like girls and boys?" he asked, cocking his head the same way his father did when he was really listening.

"Just girls, you?" she returned, wiggling her eyebrow at him until he rolled his eyes and huffed a bit.

"Just girls…I think," he parroted, tipping the brim of his hat down a fraction of an inch, just enough to hide his eyes as she tried to remember what it was like to be that young and vulnerable.

God, being a teenager had sucked. Anyone who said they wanted a do-over on high school was either part of the popular crowd or completely on crack in her opinion. Urgh, acne, hormones and soap opera heartbreak. Who in their right mind wanted that back?

"When I was training for the police academy I would pick up Meghan, my niece, from school on the days my sister had the late shift at the hospital. She used to look for girls for me. Didn't like the idea of me being alone, I guess," she considered. Letting her thoughts go stream of consciousness style as a cinematic reel of memories filtered through her mind's eye.

"Usually just came back from school with a list of her friends hot single moms," she shared with a grin, remembering. "Still, I got a couple of good dates outta the deal. Meghan was a pretty sharp cookie for a rug-rat. Just like her mom."

She trailed off, feeling it – the loss – keen and sharp as anything. There hadn't been time to grieve. Time to mull over what had happened and try to find it in her heart to blame someone other than herself for everything that had happened. It still didn't seem real. Like any day she'd wake up in that cramped little apartment, Daddy hacking away between pulls of oxygen. Meghan and Lilly coloring in the kitchen.

"I-I don't have anyone," Carl spoke up, saving her before the memories wormed their way too deep, resting his chin on his hand as he leaned up against the pew – creaking oak and flaking varnish. "I mean, well, there isn't anyone."

Across the room Maggie laughed, head ducking into Glenn's shoulder as they insisted on being disgustingly happy with one another. Her head lolled, barely able to keep from rolling her eyes as she caught a glimpse of their fearless leader making soul-eyes at the chick with the sword, Michonne-something. She sighed. Feeling like all kinds of a douche-canoe for even grumbling about it as Abraham slung an arm over Rosita, surveying everyone and everything while still managing to let someone else in as Rosita settled herself in the crook of his shoulder.

She didn't want to begrudge anyone their happiness.

Lord knows they all deserved it.

But she was tired of being alone.

Tired of-

"-not like that, I mean," Carl ventured after a moment, cobbling it all together in a rush at the end, freckles positively glowing with embarrassment.

Lady killer in the making, this one.

"Same," she grunted, tipping her head back until the bench behind her fuzzed out at the edges. "I found someone for a little while. Alisha. Before I- well, before Glenn found me."

He scooted forward about a half inch. Clearly interested, but pretending he wasn't in the way all ex snot-nosed pre-teens could recognize a mile away. "Was she pretty?"

"Oh my god yes," she hissed, one hand cutting through the air in imitation of some serious bootylicious physique as the kid's eyes blew comically wide. "Brown curls, killer eyes. Said she was with the Army Reserves before all this went down. That certainly got my attention right off the bat. Woman in uniform and all that. So hot, with curves like you've never seen. And her ass…well, take me Jesus, you know?"

Carl just spluttered, blushing and laughing like he'd just heard someone say the word 'sex' for the first time as Rick gave them the fish eye from the other side of the room.

"How did you meet her, Alisha, I mean?" he asked after a moment, quieter this time as the weight of about a half dozen semi-parental stares remained fixed their way. It reminded her of the old saying of how it takes a community to raise a child. Everyone looked out for everyone these days. Seemed like that was one positive thing they could all take to the bank.

"Our groups just met up, is all," she answered, sobering a bit as she remembered Brian's – no, Phillip's – cutting half-smile. The way he'd taken to Meghan so quickly, the way everything had gone to shit the moment he'd stumbled across their doorstep.

But Carl just shook his head, blushing again. "No, I mean, how did you two…uh, meet?"

She swallowed a laugh, figuring it'd be best not to press their luck as she met Michonne's assessing gaze over the brim of his sheriff's hat. There was no challenge in the woman's eyes, nothing overt at least. Merely the promise of what would probably be a very slow, very painful, very inventive death if she disturbed even so much as a hair on the kid's head.

Feeling bold – or maybe just a little lightheaded - she sent the woman a saucy wink.

Deciding to chalk it up as a win in her favor when it granted her a rather regal nod on return.

Fierce. She liked that in a woman.

"Lookin' for some pick-up tips, huh?" she gathered, fixing him with a wiggling brow and a mock-serious expression as he rolled his eyes again and sank a few centimeters further down into the pew.

She grinned, stretching, cracking her knuckles as she milked the moment for all it was worth. Finding joy in keeping that smile on his face as she felt the expression tug and pull – like her own expression had gotten out of practice somewhere along the line.

She huffed, rubbing her hands together. Well, that just wouldn't do at all.

"I'll tell you what, you've certainly come to the right place, buddy. Because lucky for you, I am willing to share my secrets," she drawled, drawing it out until he met her eyes, half-laughing as she struck a pose and looked down her lashes at him.

"Look, when it comes down to it, the key to getting a girl's attention is simple-"

The conversation wound down gradually, devolving into yawns and a half-hearted critique of 90's pop music as the others started turning in for the night.

She was half asleep and leaning to port when a couple of thin, growing fingers splayed across her shoulder as he leaned over the pew and shook her lightly.

"Hey Tara? Thanks."

She blinked, still riding the feel-good fuzz, content to let the moment rest before he rushed in to explain. Lowering his voice as his father cleared his throat significantly. Jerking his head around at the others who were already rolled up in their blankets between the aisles.

The message was clear. Wrap it up and go to bed. Both of you.

"For being here, talking about stuff, you know?" Carl added, the low light cutting deep into the curve of his face, darkening future laughter lines in a way that suddenly had her convinced that if anyone was going to make it in this world, it was going to be him.

Her tongue teased around an unexpected chorus. Reflecting on the taste as some part of her – deeply buried and petty – wondered where she fit-in in the scheme of things.

Welcome to the new age.

She shook herself, clearing her throat as she forced her brain back on track. Doing something of a mental rewind as he fidgeted uncertainly above her.

It wasn't all of it. Not entirely. But considering what wasn't being said was being broadcasted loud enough for the entire state to hear, she didn't press. She just gave him a sloppy smirk and stretched.

"Any time, dude. Anytime," she returned. Dopey with sleep and probably a little bit of hysterical laughter as the kid moved off and she let her brain dwell on the sheer ridiculousness of their situation.

A lesbian giving advice to a straight virgin on how to pick up chicks at the end of the world.

It certainly brought a whole new meaning to the phrase "girl talk," that was for damn sure.

A/N #2: Thank you for reading. Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! – This story is now complete.