Norman Reedus Imagines

Scubbing down a Dixon (Daryl)

Daryl gritted his teeth as he pushed the bike off himself; Gravel scraped against the metal. It wasn't the first time he had drop a motorcycle, but this was by far the worse. He was trying not to make a sound but as he tried to get more leverage with his left arm, the cry left his lips. He couldn't move his arm; his shoulder felt like the joint was being ripped apart; pain radiating downward. Closing his eyes, he sucked in a shaky breath before using his free leg to push the bike the rest of the way off, freeing himself.

All he could hear was his own heartbeat, and his ragged breathing as he rolled himself on to his back. He could hear Aaron pulling up in the truck close by. Daryl didn't want to see the number he had done on his bike, hell he didn't want to see what kind of shape he was in. The pain spread through his body, as he struggled up into a sitting position.

"Daryl, are you alright?" Aaron's voice sounded far away enough though he was right there besides him. .

Supporting himself with his good arm Daryl looked at his bike, surprised by what he saw; only a broken mirror and some scratched paint. It was good news for his bike but that meant his body had taken the brunt of the damage.

"Do I look okay to you?" Daryl asked sarcastically as he looked at himself finally. His jeans were shredded from the knee down, blood already staining whatever fabric was left. Well looks like I'll be picking gravel out of my leg tonight. Surveying the rest of his body he found he was mostly in one piece.

"Here let's get you up." Aaron reached for Daryl's left arm and as soon as contact was made another howl of pain left him.

"Jesus, fucking Christ don't fucking touch me." Daryl snarled reaching up with his good arm he pulled back his jacket revealing the damage. His shoulder was sitting about two inches lower than it should be.

Aaron looked on questioningly.

"It's dislocated for sure." Daryl answered letting his jacket fall back down over it, the pressure of the fabric alone made him grit his teeth.

Aaron righted Daryl's bike and started pushing it towards the truck. From his spot on the cool gravel Daryl pushed himself gingerly to his feet. "What are you doing?" Daryl asked walking towards the truck, the wind ruffling his damp hair letting the warm sun hit his face.

"We've got to get you back, you've gotta see the doctor. You're no use all busted up." Aaron explained as he loaded Daryl's bike into the bed of the truck.

"I ain't going to see porch dick." Daryl was referring to Pete.

Aaron rolled his eyes as they climbed into the truck. "Whatever I'm still taking you back to Alexandria. Then at least you can deal with it in sanitary conditions."

Daryl let out a huff as he settled into the passenger seat, starting to realize just how bad the pain was. He would have to deal with it as soon as he got back or else his leg would probably get infected. "Do you have any painkillers or something?"

"Yeah in the pack. Pain's that bad?"

"Yeah, but I've had worse." Daryl answered as he popped two what looked to be Advil, knowing all too well that they probably weren't the best thing to be taking with his leg bleeding that way it was. However he needed something to sedate the pain time until they got back to the community and he only hoped that no one would be at the house. He watched out the window as they drive the scenery flying by, even though it was painful he kept clenching his hand into a fist and relaxing it; he needed to keep the blood flowing, keep his hand from losing feeling.

The sun was starting to sink low on the horizon as the truck pulled outside of the grey two story.

"Are you going to be alright on your own?" Aaron asked as Daryl climbed out of the truck.