Welcome to the second story! You ready to go?
This is a sequel to The Silent World, so please read that before this one, just so it all makes sense.

Word of caution, there will be some spoilers in this story for those who haven't seen Season 3 of the Walking Dead, so please keep this in mind.
Rated for themes, language and gore which will be a little more evident in this story than the last.

I do not own The Walking Dead.

Please read and review.
Enjoy!

Chapter One: Fight

The air was becoming cool as dark clouds rolled across the sky, blocking the warmth of the sun and darkening the ground below. Everything became quiet, as if nature itself had taken in a breath and was holding it, waiting to see what would happen. The birds had fallen silent, seeking shelter in their homes from the storm that was undoubtedly approaching. Sure enough the first drops of rain began to fall, hitting the already moist earth and bounding from the leaves that were beginning to shoot through from dead bark. A breeze picked up from nowhere, blowing against Daryl's back and through his clothes but he ignored it, cradling Jasmine closer to his chest.

In front of him the man remained still, his hands open and arms up in a display of peace but Daryl kept his knife tight and ready in his hands, he was not in the mood for any other surprises. Cautiously he looked down at Jasmine, unconscious in his arms and her face becoming pale, dark hair falling across her closed eyes. The pounding in his ears drowned out every other noise, he could vaguely hear the man try to speak to him but his heart was beating so loud, so fast he was waiting for it to give out. This could not be happening, this had to be some sort of a nightmare! Jasmine couldn't be bitten, she couldn't be dying in his arms!
Lifting his head, he sucked in a tight deep breath, feeling the cool rain patter on his burning skin before he refocused on the stranger who had kept his distance.

"Please, I knew her before this all happened!"
The stranger took a step closer and Daryl carefully lifted Jasmine, readjusting her in his arms so he could brandish his weapon more. Jasmines head lolled against his shoulder, her weak breath ghosting over his neck and he kept his other arm under her legs and gripping her tightly around the waist; he was not going to let an old boyfriend or whatever this guy claimed to be to even look at her. The man held his hands out even further as Daryl took a step back, his crossbow slung over his shoulder and his eyes fierce enough to let this guy know Daryl meant business. He had enough of people lying and trying to kill him, he was ready to slit his throat anyway but something made him stop, whether it was hearing Jasmines laboured breath or just something in his gut nagging him to have some patience and hear him out.
"Was she bitten?"
Daryl narrowed his eyes at the strangers concerned tone, the fear evident in his young face and bright green eyes. Daryl didn't want to satisfy him with an answer, his eyes flickering to where Jasmines wound was bleeding and then back to the man who was waiting for a reply.
"'Bout half a 'our ago."
The man ran a hand through thick hair, his face stricken with worry and Daryl began to soften his stance, tucking his knife arm under Jasmine more securely, not feeling it entirely necessary to have it brandished.

The rain didn't become any heavier, just drizzling down between the trees and Daryl ground his teeth as his arms began to ache; Jasmine practically weighed nothing but his worry and own fear was taking a toll.
"I have a group a little way from here, in some apartments, we have medicine, we can help her."
Daryl frowned, locking his eyes solely on this man, trying to figure it out.
"I beg you."
"Why you so interested in 'elping?"
"She is my sister."

Daryl scoffed, not believing him but as if God decided he needed a sign, Trix reappeared from the trees, panting from running from walkers and began to trot towards Daryl and Jasmine before he paused, looking over the stranger. With a bark the canine leapt towards him, pawing at his leg desperately for affection, which the man gave with a single stroke over his black ears, too busy trying to convince Daryl. There was no time for this, time was measured out by weak breaths and the casual roll of thunder but Daryl was finding it harder and harder to find the strength, to find the will to take another step.
"I really am, I am Vincent O'Kane, now please we have to hurry! I have a car not far from hear, you can come with us."
Daryl scoffed, screwing his face up; as if he would leave Jasmine.
"How can ya help, she was bitten?"
"I'll explain later, but let's go."

Vincent scooped up his weapons, heading back down the path he had come from with Trix hot on his heels and Daryl watched wearily. Jasmine groaned, moving in his arms, her face pinched tight with pain and Daryl could hear the walkers that Trix had lured off approaching. He could do it now; Daryl felt his fingers flex around the handle of his knife; one quick stab and it would be done and he could return to the way he was but he couldn't. He just couldn't bring himself to do it, no matter how much pain she was in or how hopeless everything seemed, Daryl couldn't kill the woman he had become so fond of.

A walker stumbled from the trees, falling over and screeching up at him from the ground and Daryl's mind was made up; if that man truly could help, it would have to be seen to believed. Besides it wasn't much of a choice, how could Daryl rob a brother of his want to help, to see his sister one last time? He moved quickly, carefully not to jostle Jasmine around too much in his arms and he caught up with Vincent quickly, the damp earth beneath his boots turning into hard tarmac and Daryl looked at the abandoned road. A sign pointed to the town they had fled from and he hesitated; he refused to go back to the people that had wanted him to be a walkers supper, this could be another trap but he had said Jasmines name, her real name and he couldn't argue with Trix; he had been around that dog long enough to know it had a loyal and protective streak in it.
"Which town?" Daryl asked, his voice carrying over the low rumble of thunder and he watched as Vincent open the back door to a crappy old four wheel drive.
"Not this one, about forty minutes back this way."
Daryl nodded, carrying Jasmine over to the car and carefully easing her onto the back seat. Vincent tried to help, lifting her leg in carefully but Daryl gave a low growl in his throat.
"You just driv'."

Vincent held his hands up again, letting Trix jump into the car before he took his seat. With as much care as he could muster, Daryl pulled himself up into the back seat, tenderly lifting Jasmines head into his lap and laying his crossbow on the floor, keeping his knife within easy reach. Before he had closed the door, Vincent started the car and took off, the tires spinning briefly on the now wet ground just as walkers began to slap their hands on the windows.
Daryl tried to pay attention to his surroundings, they would have to remember their way back to the group and a sick feeling sank in his stomach, and it wasn't the odd odour that was in the car.
Jasmine was dying in his arms, and all he could do was try and make sure she was comfortable, gently running his calloused fingers over her damp face, wiping away the sweat and rain drops. She was dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

Why did it have to be her? Why couldn't it have been him or one of the assholes that trapped them? What had she done deserve this? What had any of them done to deserve this life? It tore Daryl apart inside, this feeling of uselessness and like he was just a pawn on someone else chessboard.
"How long have you known her?" Vincent asked from the front, his eyes flicking between the road ahead and the rear view mirror, twisting every now and then to look at his sister. Daryl felt a lump in his throat; not that long when he thought about it, but it had felt like forever.
"Beginnin' of winter. She saved my life when she didn't 'ave to."
"That sounds like her. Thank you for trusting me."
"Just get us there."
Not needed to be told twice and Daryl felt the car move even faster, the rain barely having the chance to form droplets on the car and Daryl looked at Jasmine, still eerily motionless. Lifting up the hem of her shirt, he saw the blood stand out vibrantly against her white skin, veins stretching across her stomach like polluted rivers and Daryl quickly covered it again, he couldn't bear to look at it.

Suddenly she gasped, her eyes widening and darting at the area above her, Daryl leaning across so she could see his face, hoping that it would calm her. It did slowly, her face relaxing and an arm reaching up to gently touch his cheek before her eyes glazed over, her arm falling back beside her.
"They aren't going to let me in Daryl, my shirt, I'm all messy." She squeezed her eyes shut, a tear slipping down and Daryl tried to soothe her, pushing her messy hair from her face and trying to hush her but Jasmine let out a low groan.
"You'll find a tie won't you? Just don't let the crow get it, get rid of the crow Daryl."
"She's hallucinating already." Vincent said, pushing his foot harder against the accelerator and Daryl took hold of her hand, linking his fingers and pressing his warmth into her freezing palm, telling her he would try and get rid of the pesky bird.
"It hurts Daryl," she cried, her eyes focussing long enough to get that across to him as her back arched, teeth gritting as she held in her sob of pain, "Make it stop."

Daryl didn't know what to say, just glared up at the scenery flying by them outside and wishing that he could trade places with her, that or that he could find the strength to do what he knew would need to be so. Instead after a short time he felt the car come a gradual stop, Vincent leaning forward and clutching the steering wheel tighter, Trix growling and yipping in the front seat.
"Shit," Vincent swore and Daryl looked up from a resting Jasmine to a snarling face of a walker; rotted teeth trying to bite through the glass before it was joined by another, and then another. Walkers surrounded the car and even when Daryl could see through the crowd and down the large towns street, there were too many for them. Vincent hissed, flooring it and managing to mow down some of the walkers, pushing through them and Daryl wondered just what he had got himself and Jasmine into.

"We're going to have to make a run for it from here."
"You're kidden right?"
Vincent just twisted in his seat to face Daryl, giving him a harsh glare before reaching and grabbing Jasmines wrist, feeling her pulse. Sickness became the main emotion on his face before it was replaced with determination. He spun back around, fishing on the passenger seat beneath Trix before pull free a small wireless radio.
"Ruth, Moore, anyone there?"
It was just static for a moment before a deep voice boomed from the other end.
"You're back early."
"I have two guests and a heap of unwanted visitors." Vincent licked his lips, looking around at the walkers outside and then to Daryl before he drove slowly closer towards a building.
"Friendlies?"
"One injured, bitten, make sure Catherine is ready in the medical room. We're gonna need some cover to get inside though."
"You've got it, ready when you are boss."

Daryl raised an eyebrow at Vincent who dropped the device onto the floor, pulling a gun out of the glove box and checking the rounds and before he had clicked it back into place, Daryl could hear the sound of other guns being shot, watching as the walkers began to drop to the ground.
"Ready? Go out your door and make a run for the main building to your left,"
Before Daryl could argue Vincent opened his door and was gone, another stranger following close behind him with a rifle, Trix out of sight. Daryl turned to Jasmine, ready to carry her in himself when the door opened and three men began to grab at her roughly, lifting her up and out of his reach.
"Hey!" Daryl yelled, forcing his door open with a sharp kick and grabbing his crossbow. There was no time to load it, using his knife to rid of the walkers that got too close and ran around the back of the car. Seeing the apartment building Vincent had mentioned, Daryl battled his way through the crowd of walkers, flinching every time one close to him would drop from a bullet shot from one of the windows above him.

Panting, Daryl was allowed through the heavy doors that were slammed shut behind him, a heavy beam dropped across it as the walkers began to pound at the barrier.
"Get her up stairs now!"
Without taking in his surroundings, Daryl lifted his crossbow, ready with an arrow as he scanned over the numerous faces.
"Where is she? Where's Jasmine?" he demanded, his voice more gravely and broken than he would have like but the weapon in his arms kept him serious and a few people lifted their empty hands to their shoulders. In the dark area he saw Vincent move towards him, gesturing for Daryl to lower the crossbow.
"You are safe here, you don't need them."
"By the looks of thangs you ain't as safe as ya claim." Daryl growled, referring to the massive herd of walkers surging down the towns streets. Vincent gave a smirk, looking back at the people behind him and saying a few quiet words before they all began to carry on with what they were doing. Two men remained though, their guns still tight in their twitchy fingers and Daryl began to regret his decision to come here until he heard Jasmine scream.
He lurched forward, keeping his face low against his crossbow as he lifted it closer to Vincent, hoping his glare was portraying his anger enough that he wouldn't have to shoot him.

"She is in one of the apartments above, if you care for her as much as I do, you will put that thing down and follow me."
Daryl was resistant for a minute, trying to weigh up his options, ready to fight before he did as it was suggested, his crossbow swinging beside him. Vincent gave a nod and Daryl returned it when Vincent lifted and lowered his hand, the two henchmen behind him lowering their aim and stepping aside and Vincent led Daryl up the apartment stairs. They were crumbling, squeaking beneath their weight and Daryl was careful not to touch the peeling walls; this winter had obviously taken a toll on the building but at least it was secure, dark and damp but safe. People opened their doors, faces peaking from their rooms to the commotion going on; there were women and children, much more that what Daryl's group had and he frowned, following Vincent up another flight of stairs before he walked along the corridor.

Daryl had so many questions to ask, they were all on the tip of his tongue and he was about to demand some answers when he could hear Jasmine sobbing, calling out. Vincent opened the door to an apartment, ushering Daryl in before closing the door. Inside the dimly lit apartment, Daryl could see that it had been gutted and turned into some sort of medical room, rows of shelving covered in small bottles of antibiotics and tablets lined up neatly and a lady hurried past him with a needle. The smell of bleach and sanitisers was intrusive to his nose and Daryl tried not to groan and cover his nose but then as he scanned over the beds lined in the room he saw Jasmine, writhing and vomiting, fighting the people that tried to hold her down so that the needle could puncture her arm.
"What are you doin' to 'er?"
"We have been wanting to test something for a while, none of us were exactly ready to volunteer to be bitten though." Vincent started, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched on, the worry evident in his face and Daryl wondered what he must have looked like as he watched on also. Jasmine calmed suddenly, her breathing evening out but her face was still showing she was in pain, especially as two other men lifted her shirt to cut it away, exposing her frail body and the bite mark. They soaked it, with what Daryl wasn't sure but it made Jasmine twitch and he battled the need to push them away, to whisk Jasmine away from her but to where and for how long? So instead he bit the inside of his lip until he could taste blood.

"What are you doin'?"
Vincent didn't look up at him, his face tightening as he watched his sister on the bed, stepping away from the door and closer to Daryl, careful not to knock any of the oxygen tanks stacked behind him. "Saving her life."
"How? Why do you need someone bitten?" Daryl demanded and turned to look at the brother, trying to not look at Jasmine, it was hard enough to hear her laboured breathing and odd cries of pain.
"A zombie bite can kill yes," a woman spoke to him, standing up from Jasmine who became still on the bed, "but there is no such thing as a zombie virus transmitted from a bite, everyone already has that. You do know that, yes?" Daryl looked at the woman who would have to be in her late fifties, her neat hair dishevelled from helping Jasmine and dark eyes watching Daryl carefully. Daryl nodded, thinking back when Rick had told the group; at least now it was well and truly confirmed.
"Good. Not even that kills you, it helps, but simply brings you back as one of those things."
"Something dead just bit you," Vincent chipped in, "the bacteria from that is enough to cause the fever and sickness and with everyone malnourished and tired, of course it is hard to beat if you don't bleed to death first." He said matter of fact, making Daryl feel like he was back at school, the kid in the back of the class that didn't know anything.
"We have to work quickly before she is past the point where anything we do can help her and that infection takes hold."
"I've sedated her but it doesn't seem to be doing anything, I can't give her anymore," the woman spoke and Vincent moved into the room, kneeling beside Jasmine and taking hold of her hand. She twisted oddly to look at him, her face lighting up in a smile before she cried out, curling in on herself as the lady injected something else into the bite.

Daryl just stood there, feeling useless as he watched on. Trix left his side, weaving between the busy people and curling up under the brass bed, dropping his face to the wooden floor and watching disinterested in them as he waited for Jasmine to get better. It was hard to believe that she could be saved, he had seen so many people bitten and so many dead; how could this little apartment and these strangers be able to save a life that seemed lost? Behind him the door opened and somebody walked in, the old Cherokee man stopping beside Daryl. In his hand was a single feather and in the dull light, Daryl could see the old Indians eyes meet with his; it felt as if the man was reading him, learning everything he needed to from Daryl before he even spoke a word. Daryl looked back at him, surprised by his presence and the man looked up at him with an aging face, long black hair braided over his shoulder and nodded his head before he stepped closer to Jasmines bed, slowly getting to his knees. He hung his head, clutching the feather in his hands and began to murmur. The stream of words were too fast for Daryl understand, the chanting a distraction to him and he wanted to grab the old man by that long black hair and haul him back out of the room but he knew better. For someone who was raised in a racist home like he was, Daryl understood a lot about other cultures, and knew that whatever it was the man was saying would have something to do with asking the powers for balance, asking them for help to save Jasmine, to show her the way back to health or something like that anyway, maybe he didn't know, he couldn't think clearly as he watched the girl he had feelings of love for squirm in pain.

Suddenly Jasmine became quiet and still, the people around her pausing, watching her before they began to clear away the bloody sheets and cottons balls. Daryl looked at them, feeling his stomach became light with fear that she was dead.
"What are you doin'? Why'd you stop?" he growled angrily, the Cherokee still chanting his words and Daryl glared at the people that weren't answering him. He marched over to Vincent who was still holding her hand tightly, her skin glimmering with sweat from a tear in the blind beside them, the sun streaming in and revealing just how pale and frail she looked. Daryl felt his hands tremble, tried desperately to keep his face from showing his fear as he looked down at Jasmine, calm and still in the bed, Vincent holding her hand to his forehead. Slowly he lowered it, kissing it before setting it back beside her.
"We've done what we can." Vincent snapped, glaring up at Daryl who swallowed tightly, turning and pacing on his feet. "It's up to Sierra now, she has to fight to stay; all we can do now is pray that she has the strength otherwise,"
Vincent didn't finish the sentence and Daryl was glad, because he couldn't think of that, not now that these people had filled him with even this small ember of hope that she could live.

Vincent turned his gaze back to his sister and Daryl flung his arm out angrily, trying to convince himself to leave, convince himself she was dead and he had to find his group but before he reached the door, something invisible blocked him, the barrier keeping him from leaving the room and Daryl cursed quietly. He remained that way for a while, clenching his jaw and squeezing his eyes shut, trying to keep a reign on his burning emotions. Turning back around, he leant against the wall near the Cherokee who was still on the ground, the eagle feather tight between his hands. He may not be the best man in the world, and he may not believe that Jasmine would come back to them, hell he didn't even believe in the man chanting on the floor for her or in any god, but he crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes, and harder than he ever had before, he prayed.

First chapter up, I hope it was alright. I had tried to have it up for a Christmas present for you all, but I'm a little late, it was actually kind of hard to find a way to start it off.
Let me know what you think; will Jasmine be able to pull through?

Thanks for reading,
Silver Kirin
xXx