Daryl Dixon Ficlets

Sweater Weather

You've gone through your fair share of misfortunate runs, in all those years of surviving, when things haven't gone as planned... but losing a cart with supplies into a lake is a first for you.

Someone, in a previous run, had spotted a warehouse but didn't have enough space to carry everything, and so Daryl and you had volunteered to go bring back everything else.

You both took a cart, even if Daryl'd rather have gone on his bike, but he had to admit there was more space to carry back stuff in the cart than in his bike. He's not a fan of horses, you know it, can't blame him after getting thrown off one, falling down a ravine, impaling himself with an arrow, and almost becoming walkers food...and so you offer to be the one driving the cart, with Dog sat down between Daryl and you.

So, you guess that, technically, this is your fault...but there's not much you could have done to stop it.

The month of October had been a rainy one, November starting the same, and so the paths and roads are all puddly and muddly. Sometimes, the cart had gotten stuck in the mud, but until now, the horse, Daryl and you, had always managed to pull it out of the mud, even if it gets harder on the way back, the cart heavy with everything that you're carrying.

What you were not expecting, though, is that suddenly, and before you can react, the horse and the cart were going to start sliding down a muddy, wet path and directly to a lake bank, sliding downhill. You try to stop it, panicking, try to encourage the horse to push forwards, but his hooves and the wheels keep skidding down the lake bank fast, and before you know it, the cart is falling into the water, so fast that you're still not sure of what the hell is going on.

You jump off the cart, followed by Daryl and Dog, and quickly you cut the rope that ties the horse to the cart so the animal won't be dragged into the water too, and you look helplessly how the cart keeps sliding into the water, not stopping until half of it is covered and most of the stuff that you have in it is falling into the lake.

"Shit!" You curse as you look at it, and then frown when Daryl starts getting into the water. "What are you doing?"

"Tryin' to get some of that back," he says as he half swims, half waddles to the cart, while Dog jumps to follow him as if he can help too.

"We don't have a way to carry it with us anyway..." You say, defeated, and most of the stuff seems to have been dragged to the bottom of the lake anyway, but Daryl seems able to save some bags, carrying them back to shore...still, you have lost so much, you're angry at yourself. "I'm sorry that I'm a shit wagon driver..." You apologize, dropping down to sit on the ground with a frustrated sigh, while you watch as Daryl drags out of the water the last bag that he can save.

"Ain't yer fault," he says as he shakes his wet hair right at the same time that Dog shakes his wet fur, and you snort at the image, even if you're feeling frustrated. "Could have happened to anyone."

"Yeah, it happened to me..." You mutter, still feeling like kicking yourself.

Daryl doesn't say anything else, just reaches out to squeeze your shoulder reassuringly. He takes off his soaking wet poncho, hanging it from a tree branch. His trousers are soaking too, and the shirt and his angel-winged vest that he's wearing under the poncho aren't soaking but are wet too, and you bit your lip so as not to tease him asking him to go ahead and take off all those wet clothes.

You don't like it, though, that he's wearing those wet clothes when the day was already cold, but there's not much you can do to help with that.

Daryl sits down next to you, looking at the lake and the half-sunken cart, defeated too. You glance at him, on those wet clothes, and even though you know it's a bit silly, you take off your jacket to give it to him. You know it won't fit him, with those wide shoulders and bulky arms of him, but at least he could use it as some sort of blanket or something.