new chapter! Yes, some of that stuff is very convenient. Let me. *sticks out tongue*
And I gotta remind you once more: I don't know much about medicine etc. So if I'm talking nonsense here, just ignore that!
It's a fanfic, it's possible in my fic world, don't worry :D

setting: episode 16 "Welcome To The Tombs"


Damnation

Chapter 59 - Blood Type


"No no no no NO!" Connor yelled and hit the steering wheel hard. They could already see the guard towers of the prison, but they were still about 300 yards away from their home, and just then the car had decided to give in. There had been smoke and incredibly loud stuttering all the way back here, so it really was no surprise that the engine was dying now.

"What's wrong? We need to hurry!" Andrea yelled from behind him and Connor hit the steering wheel once more.

"I fuckin know!" he yelled and tried the keys multiple times, but the car really was wrecked.

Connor looked up to check if he could see anyone, but apart from a couple of walkers there was absolutely nothing.

"Shit! Get outta the car" he said and ripped the door open.

"But.."

"Get outta the car! We'll have ta make run fer it!" Connor yelled and then opened the backdoor so he could grab Daryl by his legs.

The hunter was still unconscious, and although the bleeding had slowed down a bit there was still a lot of blood. Connor really wasn't sure how much longer his friend was going to last. It made him so furious that the car wasn't working anymore, but at least they had managed to get this far. Without it Daryl certainly would have died, no matter how much he didn't want that to happen.

"Help me get him out" the Irishman demanded and kept pulling his friend's legs until Andrea helped him.

Once Daryl was back outside and they had made sure that the temporary bandage was still in place Connor placed his friend on his back again, with his tied arms wrapped around his neck. He turned around and adjusted their weight one more time, and then he looked at Andrea.

"Ye gotta run ahead and tell people t'get us. Open the gates and help with a car."

"What about you? There's walkers everywhere, perhaps we should..."

"There's no fuckin time fer that shit! He's fuckin dying! GO!" Connor interrupted her once more and then started running as well.

Andrea passed him a couple of minutes later and ran as fast as she could, killing any walkers that were getting too close so Connor could keep running without having to stop.

But it weren't the walkers he was worried about. His own body was the main problem right now. He had been so caught up with everything that had happened during the last two hours that he had not paid any attention to his own problems, and he really regretted this now. Because just like Daryl he was also bleeding since he had split his stitches back at the motel. His hand and shoulder were burning with pain because of the constant work they had to do by driving a car around and caring Daryl. He was completely exhausted and his energy was absolutely drained after just two minutes of running. He could also hardly breathe because of all his smoking. Connor wiped the sweat off his forehead and had to stop running for a second to catch breath.

"Oh fuck" he gasped and grabbed Daryl's arm with his healthy hand when he felt a sudden wave of dizziness crush over him. The hunter wasn't responding at all, just like he could hardly feel him breathe. The world was spinning around Connor just like two days ago back on the parking lot, and he could hear all sorts of whispers in his head.

Not fucking now. Not now he thought and shook his head stubbornly to make it go away.

No. He wasn't going to pass out. Not now. Not when Daryl was about to die.

He still stumbled and landed on his right knee, and just for a second their weight nearly pulled him to the ground. He kept staring at the prison that was so close now and took a couple of loud and short breaths. He could hardly see anything and his ears were ringing. There was the feeling in the back of his head that told him that he should let go, that he should rest, but when he heard the gentle moan that was coming from his friend on his back it was enough to keep him going.

"Come on, just a bit more, ye gotta hold on" he grunted and didn't just tell that his friend but also himself.

They were so close.

Connor managed to get back on his feet and started running again, although you couldn't even call it running anymore.
And all he could think about was how those 300 yards where the longest 300 fucking yards he had ever come across in his life.

He had just reached the clearing when he realized that his plan had one flaw: He had forgotten all about the yard. They had never cleared it out after the attack with the truck, and he was now facing at least 50 undead that were staggering around the pathway up to the prison, and although he could see the couple of corpses Andrea had killed on her way in here there were still too many walkers, and no one from the group was in sight.

Connor stopped running for a second and leaned against a tree to catch breath once more, and he was breathing so loud and heavily that it sounded like he was suffocating. And it didn't just sound like it, it also felt like it. He knew that it would be stupid and dangerous to run right at the gates because of all the walkers, but this was about life or death, and he was pretty sure that he only had a couple of minutes before Daryl died. He took another deep breath and then grabbed both his gun AND the knife, ignoring the incredible pain that built up in his broken thumb and wrist when he grabbed it. He could hardly hold the knife and knew that he couldn't do much damage with it, but it would help him to get the walkers away from him, away from Daryl. He needed to fucking do this, and he was going to do everything he could to save his friend.

Connor started running again and entered the field in front of the prison, and although he tried to be ready he really wasn't prepared for this sort of fight at all. He shot the first couple of walkers with his gun and ran faster, but Daryl's weight kept pulling him down, and when he faced the hill that led back up to the yard he had to realize that he really wasn't faster than the walkers anymore. The undead were slowly closing in on them and the Irishman was forced to use his broken hand as well, and he was so exhausted and in so much pain already that he could hardly feel a thing in his hand anymore anyway. He kept slicing and shooting and shoving at the undead that tried to grab his injured friend, and for some reason he still couldn't see anyone by the prison yard. More and more walkers were coming now, and the Irishman was slowly beginning to panic.

"RICK!" he yelled as loud as he could and managed to cut a walker's throat, but he couldn't apply too much force with his broken hand, so he was forced to use his gun as well.

And he was running out of bullets.

"RICK! MAGGIE! GLENN!" he yelled and managed to get another couple of feet up the hill, only to let out a shocked gasp when he noticed that all the walkers that had been piling up on the gate were now heading in their direction as well.

Fuck.

He really should've seen that coming, but truth was that he really hadn't. He turned around in panic and tried to run back so he could get inside the prison through another gate, only to see that walkers were coming at them from the other side as well. They were trapped.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

They weren't going to make it. Not on their own, not with anyone opening the gates.

Where the fuck was everyone? Where was Andrea? Where was Rick? They were going to get killed here! Right on their own doorstep!

Connor shoved another walker away and kept turning around and around, to keep other walkers from grabbing Daryl but also to keep an eye on all of them at once. But the spinning around just made the dizziness worse. He decided to walk further up the hill, to get away from the two larger groups that were coming down both sides of the road, but they were coming from all sides now. When he stabbed another walker he suddenly lost grip of his knife because everything was really spinning by now, and although he landed on his knees because of the exhaustion he still kept shoving, boxing, and fighting, using his empty gun to bash brains in and stop the walkers from coming.

"Fuck off!" he croaked and held on to Daryl's arm with his broken hand while using the other one to keep shoving and killing.

But it was useless. They were surrounded, and he was really close to passing out.

It had to be too freaking late. He wasn't even sure if Daryl was still alive. His friend had neither moved nor made any sort of noise during the fight and his arm was ice cold. The world was spinning more and more, and although Connor really wanted to keep fighting he physically couldn't do it any more. Now that all the walkers were so freaking close to him the whole whispering bullshit was back, it sounded like they were yelling at him, reaching out for him, coming for him, asking him to follow.

"Leave 'im alone ye sick fucks!" he tried to yell, but it was just a mumbling because he was fighting really hard not to faint now.

Just when the Irishman was about to finally, finally give in some loud noise to their right startled him. He could hear the roaring of an engine and the rattling of a gate, and seconds after that bullets started flying, making a whole bunch of walkers fall down and turn around.

Rick and the others had finally opened the gates.

Connor let out an exhausted laugh but still fell down, and this time he allowed himself to pass out because he knew they were going to get saved.


He wasn't knocked out completely. A small part of him was conscious enough to be aware of how someone freed him from Daryl's weight, but since he wasn't really sure if it were just Rick or the walkers he held on to his friend as tightly as he could and still tried to fight, although he knew that it was no problem for the intruder to get rid of his hands. He didn't want his friend to go, but he was actually relieved when the weight was lifted off of him. He could feel how he was grabbed by his arms and pulled up as well, with an arm wrapped around his waist and supporting him to head for wherever they wanted him to go.

"Was shot.. need t'help him" he croaked and finally understood that it was Michonne who was helping him inside the car.

He was close to passing out but still couldn't help but acknowledge her strength. The woman really had balls, he gave her that. He was sure that if Murphy was still with him he would have laughed at him for getting carried around by a woman. But truth was that he did not care, he was just glad that he didn't have to run and carry Daryl anymore. He couldn't wait to get some rest, and he was so going to get that as soon as he had made sure that his friend was alright. He was aware of the fact that Michonne and the others were talking to him, but everything sounded like he was under water and he didn't understand a single thing.

He seemed to have blacked out for a moment, because when he finally woke up again he noticed that it was suddenly a lot cooler than when he had been outside. When he opened his eyes he saw that he was being carried inside their cell block, and the cool air was enough to make him wake up again.

"Where.. where the fuck is Daryl?" he mumbled and tried to look up.

Andrea and Michonne were helping him now, but his friend was nowhere in sight.

"Outside. Rick and Hershel are trying to help him" Michonne answered and Andrea nodded.

"We're just going to make you lie down for a bit. You should rest. You've done all you could" the blonde woman said, but Connor still tried to fight them.

"No. No, I gotta help 'em. Tell them what happened" he protested and looked up, only to groan when he noticed that the world was spinning again.

"I already did" Andrea said and placed a hand on his chest.

"Now let us take a look at your injuries. You were bit just a couple of days ago, you should rest."

"I ain't gonna fucking rest when my best friend's dying, alright?!" he spat and finally managed to fight both women.

He still stumbled and nearly fell when all the support was suddenly gone, but when the women tried to help him again he raised his hand to stop them from coming.

"'m alright, okay? 'm fine" he said and then turned around, only to run into the wall.

Damn he felt dizzy. Connor rubbed his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut for a second to gather his thoughts, and once he had done that he ran back outside to get to the dining hall where they had put Daryl on the field bed that had once been his brother's. He could see all the others in the hall. Maggie, Hershel and Carol were hovering over Daryl, which was why he couldn't really see his friend's face.

"How is he?" he asked in shock and approached them, which made the whole group except for Herschel and Carol look at him.

"He's alive. But it doesn't look good" Rick answered and Connor widened his eyes in surprise.

"Well can I.." he muttered and tried to get closer, but the former policeman stepped in his way and placed a hand on his chest.

"No. You should rest. There's nothing you can do. Especially not when you're in this sort of condition. You'll just make it worse. Let Hershel and Carol take care of it."

"But maybe I can just.." Connor went on and grabbed his hair, and he finally allowed the panic to take over when he heard how Daryl started groaning and wincing in pain.

It sounded like the others were taking the bullet out, and just like Rick had said: it didn't look good.

"Fuck, I should've gone with 'im" Connor muttered and repeated it over and over again.

For the past 30 minutes he had been in such a hurry and so much shock that his brain had been unable to process everything, but now everything crashed down on him at once. Daryl had been shot. Merle was dead. The Governor was dead. They had been in a car crash, there was blood everywhere, Woodbury was preparing for war and probably heading for them, and everything was just so fucked it that was absolutely ridiculous. His heart was pounding in his chest and it felt like the walls were closing in on him, and for a second it felt like he was going to pass out again.

"Hey" Rick said and placed a hand on his shoulder, which snapped the Irishman out of it.

"He's gonna be fine, okay? You know him better than any of us. Daryl's too tough to die."

"Aye, but fuck. I screwed up. Oh fuck, I screwed up. I shouldn't have left the freaking cell. I should've listened t'him."

"You did the right thing. You killed the Governor. You solved a problem. Andrea told us about his plans. What he was going to do. Hey, listen to me" Rick said and Connor finally looked at him.

"It's okay. Everything's gonna work out."

The blonde swallowed hard and nodded, but he still wouldn't stop staring at Hershel and the others, who were taking caring of Daryl.

"Now sit down. Let Maggie take care of you, come on."

Connor shook his head and kept looking at his injured friend in shock.

"I ain't gonna leave 'im. I gotta.."

"You don't have to do anything. Just...just sit down over there" Rick went on and managed to guide the Irishman to one of the tables, where Maggie was already waiting for him with a couple of medical supplies so she could take care of his split stitches and dirty bandages.

Connor finally did as he was told, but since the shock had really taken over his body now he couldn't feel a single thing when Maggie freed him from the old bandages and started stitching up his shoulder.

The others were still trying to help Hershel and Carol as good as they could, and although it didn't sound like Daryl was in real trouble Connor had to realize that everything scared the shit out of him.

"How'd you do it?" he heard Maggie ask.

It took him a while to react, but then he turned his head and swallowed.

"What?" he muttered and blinked a couple of times.

"How'd you kill him?"

Connor hissed when she got rid of the bandage around his hand. It looked bad, even he had to admit that. It had been a stupid idea to use it when it was still healing, and it already looked like it was healing the wrong way. Before he got to answer Maggie noticed the mess as well and took a closer look.

"We need to adjust that. We can't have that grow back together the wrong way" she said and Connor nodded.

"Aye. I know."

She took his left hand as tenderly as she could but it still made him wince.

"I'm sorry" she said and Connor didn't get to answer, because right then she suddenly twisted his wrist and thumb, making it crack and him groan in pain.

He stood up for a second and walked around for a bit to calm down, and although the twisting had hurt it had done what was necessary. The bones were back in place so they could heal properly instead of giving him a crippled and useless hand. All he had to do now was make sure it was kept still. He sat back down after a moment and let Maggie apply the small metal pieces they used as stabilizers, and since she was so caught up with it the Irishman decided to get back to her previous question.

"Daryl stabbed 'im. But it didn't kill him. 's why he got shot" he muttered and looked at his friend again, worry written all over his face.

"Andrea shot 'im in the head" he went on and Maggie nodded with an unreadable expression on her face.

"Good."

Connor swallowed hard and bit the inner side of his right cheek.

"Not good enough" he muttered and listened up when Hershel suddenly got up and started talking to Rick whilst cleaning his hands with a towel.

Connor could finally see his friend, who was lying there on the bed with his bare chest that was covered with blood and had a nasty hole in it. Carol was holding the hunter's bloody hand and looked just as worried. Daryl looked incredibly pale and his eyes were still closed, and once again panic rushed over Connor. What if he was dead? Although Maggie was still trying to put a new bandage around his shoulder he suddenly got up and headed for the two men.

"How is he?"

Both Hershel and Rick looked at him, and although the policeman tried to stop the old man from talking he still answered Connor.

"We managed to get out the small pieces that were stuck in the hole, but it hit a blood vessel. There's internal bleeding in his chest. I need to open him up and stitch it back together. But we'll have to do this sort of surgery in the infirmary and that is, as we know, completely overrun. And he's lost a lot of blood. He needs blood, but we don't know his blood type."

Connor looked at his friend and rubbed his mouth.

"I'm type O negative."

Hershel raised an eyebrow and Connor shifted a bit, and he wouldn't stop looking at Daryl.

"I shit ye not. 'm type O negative. And I've heard that people like me can give blood t'anyone. Stick something in me, I don't care. I just wanna help 'im.
's all my fault he's lying there now. I already got his brother killed, there's no way 'm getting him killed as well."

Rick looked at Hershel with a frown.

"Can we do that?"

Hershel was still looking at the Irishman and shook his head.

"It's true that type O negative's are universal donors, but there are still many things that can go wrong. He can still reject it. And even without all that... No we cannot do that, Connor. You got infected. Even if you are immune, you are still a carrier. Your blood is not clean. It can kill him, it can turn him, we don't know anything about.."

"What else can we do? Let 'im bleed t'death? Try shit with yer blood and make it worse should we use the wrong type?" Connor spat and startled Hershel with his sudden outburst.

He pointed at Daryl with an angry growl.

"He's fuckin dying over there, and you need t'start talkin old man. What are we gonna do about it? We need t'get him to the infirmary? Fine. I'll kill every last fuck over there. I've already been in there and since fuckers don't attack me it won't be a problem t'clear that out. Now tell me, does he need blood or not? If yes, then use mine. I know it can kill him, but if he's gonna die otherwise anyway then I don't fuckin care. if there's the slightest fuckin possibility that he might survive with my blood then we're gonna use it, and yer gonna save his fuckin life, alright?"

"Connor, just calm down, you're in shock" Rick said and tried to reach out for the Irishman, but Connor shrugged him off and glared at him.

"No, I've never thought clearer about all this shit. You know what? Merle ain't dead and Daryl ain't dying because of me but because of you, Rick. If it weren't fer me and my plan then this Governor asshole would still be walking around and he would've killed us all. It's about time we stop all this pussy bullshit in here. Too many people have died because of yer decisions and all yer good guy talk. If you'd shot that bastard when you were sitting right in front of him then we wouldn't be having this fucking conversation right now!"

Everyone stared at the Irishman in surprise, but Connor kept his eyes fixed on Rick.

"And I'm not gonna let my best friend die because of you calling the wrong shots here" he went on and then looked at Daryl.

He was so extremely bitter all of a sudden, but he was also relieved because he had finally spoken out what he'd been thinking for a while now.
After gathering his strength and calming down for a moment he turned around and looked at Glenn, Andrea and Michonne.

"You three come with me. We're gonna clear the path t'the infirmary so Hershel can do the surgery and get Daryl back t'gether."

It was dead silent now, and Connor was actually surprised that Rick wouldn't say anything to that.
The others were just as dumbstruck, and the Irishman was even more surprised when they really followed him instead of raging against him having the say.


Another note:

Connor being a type 0 negative in combination with his "special" antibodies/immune system is the reason why he's immune to this walker thing.