Ok, so we've reached that chapter. Just letting you know: I had to stop writing, twice, because I couldn't even see what I was writing .
I CRIED LIKE A BABY OK. I regret nothing. No, I regret everything. Because this chapter is so. fucking .cruel.

setting: episode 13 "Beside The Dying Fire"

Salvation

Chapter 39 - Aequitas

It was dark outside when they finally returned to camp. He saw a campfire, so Glenn and T-Dog had managed to get some firewood as well.
When the group saw Connor and Daryl they all got up in surprise. Connor was unconscious. Daryl had carried him the last couple of meters.

"What happened?" Rick asked and Daryl took a deep breath.

"Passed out on our way back. Carol, would you give me a couple of blankets and lie them down by that wall over there?"

Carol nodded and got up to do so. Daryl carried his friend over to the stone wall and waited for the blankets.
Once everything was prepared he lay Connor down and looked at his friend for a moment. The group gathered around the unconscious man.

"Herschel, you should take a look at his shoulder now" Lori said and Daryl shook his head.

"It ain't his shoulder. He got bit yesterday" Daryl said and just looked at his friend.

"What?" they all asked in shock and looked at Daryl and Connor.

The hunter just nodded.

"He was too scared of telling us."

It was quiet for a while until Carl started crying.

"Is he dead?" Glenn asked and Daryl shook his head.

He just stared at Connor's face.

"Just unconscious. I doubt that he'll wake up again though."

He was surprised how much it hurt to see Connor like that. He was surprised how shocked he was. Daryl sat down next to his friend and put the blanket around his shoulders. He could still hear him breathing. Just wake up and start laughing at me. Or tell some of yer stupid Irish jokes. Just, fucking do something. When he looked up he saw Rick standing there next to him.

"You know what needs to be done" he said quietly and Daryl glared at him.

"If yah plan on shooting him in the head now, you'll have to shoot me first."

The both looked at each other for a while and Rick shook his head.

"I just wanted to let you know. Not yet. You're right. But still. The moment he turns.."

"If you've got nothin else t'say might as well just leave us the fuck alone" Daryl growled an Rick looked at him.

He nodded after a while.

"Look, I'm sorry Daryl.."

"Just go! Everyone. Leave us alone!" Daryl yelled and looked at Connor again, somewhat hoping his friend would wake up one final time.

Connor woke up a couple of hours later and started throwing up again. He was bathed in sweat and started shivering. He searched their surroundings in horror only to see Daryl right beside him. The hunter had quite a hard time keeping it together himself. It wasn't the first time he saw someone turn and die because of this mad disease, but seeing Connor like that.. it was too much to handle. His friend would start screaming every once in a while, whenever the pain got worse. Daryl tried to keep him steady and stop him from shaking whenever the cramps returned, but there wasn't that much to do. There was no way to stop it, and it was only getting worse every time the cramps hit. The Irishman calmed down after a moment and asked for water, only to spit it out coughing and throwing up all over again. He focused after a while and looked at Daryl.

"Are you going to be ok?" he asked and Daryl just snorted.

He took a deep breath and looked away. Some members of the group were already sleeping.

Rick just kept staring at them. Staring and waiting.

"They want me t' kill yah" Daryl said quietly and turned his head to look at his friend.

"Put yah out of yer misery and all that crap. Like a fuckin dog."

Connor took a deep breath and sighed shakily.

"Well they've got a point there. Misery and all that."

Daryl snorted.

"Yah can't ask me t'do this."

"Nat the first time you kill a walker, Daryl" Connor murmured and Daryl glared at him.

"You ain't a walker."

He sighed and moved his fingers through his hair.

"Rick might be alright with killing his best friend. I ain't."

Connor smiled tiredly but ended up coughing again.

"'s there anything else I can do for yah?" Daryl asked after a while.

He was tired. Of everything. Seeing Connor like that. Feeling that much pain. Watching his best friend die. Watching everything fall apart.

"Actually yes" Connor said and nodded towards his pea coat.

"There's a pen in that pocket. And the picture of me and Murphy" he mumbled and closed his eyes again.

Daryl frowned and got his pea coat.

"What do yah need a fuckin pen for now? Gonna write yer last will now?"

Connor snickered and groaned in pain because it hurt.

"Just gimme te pen and te picture" Connor murmured.

He felt dizzy and sick because the pain was getting worse and worse.

Daryl handed him the things he had asked for. Connor looked at the photograph and smiled.

"St. Paddy's 1997. Two years before we became the saints. Happiest time af my life."

Daryl took a deep breath and just looked Connor who started coughing. He looked up after a moment and smiled at Daryl.

"You know, when Murphy died I thought I'd never ever be happy again."

Daryl snorted.

"Yeah. Seen it and heard it more than once."

"But ye know what? I was wrong."

His friend frowned.

"Have yah lost it now?"

Connor snickered and shook his head.

"Remember the day before yesterday? On the rooftop?"

Daryl nodded.

"What about it?"

"That was just like St. Patty's 1997."

"I don't remember any beer and Irish crap going on there."

The Irishman smirked.

"Ain't talking about the beer or the party. I'm talking about how I felt."

Daryl just looked at him for a while.

"Happy?"

Connor smiled and nodded.

"Aye."

The moment was destroyed when he had yet another fit. He suddenly squeezed his eyes shut started screaming again. A moment later there was blood coming out of his mouth once more. He gasped and coughed and Daryl tried to hold him steady and got rid of the blood.

"Give me yer right hand" Connor croaked and Daryl frowned.

"What for?"

"Just do it! Christ, fuckin hurry. Ain't gonna last much longer." Connor shouted and Daryl gave him his hand.

The Irishman grabbed it and started writing on his hand. As soon as Daryl saw the first letter he knew what he was going to write.
He tried not to look at his hand and studied Connor's face instead.
The Irishman looked so tired. So hurt. So broken.

"Stop it" Daryl demanded and Connor shook his head.

He kept writing with shaky hands. The hunter got worried when he heard how his friend's breathing changed. Sped up. Got heavier.

"I think you should stop wasting yer energy like that. Yah need to rest, Connor. Really..just.. just stop now. Come on, man" he said.

Connor let out a relieved sigh when he finished the last letter. The Irishman let go of his friend's hand and smiled.

"Okay. My gun. In the bag."

Daryl shook his head.

"No."

"Aye. Take it. Doesn't matter which one."

After a moment of just staring at his friend Daryl gave in and opened Connor's bag to get one of the guns. He stared at the weapon.
The Irishman suddenly grabbed his hands so they held the gun together.

"Listen, that's important. You've...you've gotta take that gun. That gun...Don't ye fuckin dare taking an other gun. Thatgun. 't's very important."

Daryl just stared at him and shook his head.

"I said you ain't dyin as long as I'm around. Won't do this."

"Af course..you will..." Connor murmured and closed his eyes tiredly.

He couldn't keep them open any longer.

This made Daryl snap.

"Yah fuckin promised you'd stay alive!" he spat and heard how Rick came over.

"Did" Connor answered and closed his eyes once more.

He was just too tired. So scared. He just wanted to sleep.

Daryl slapped him to wake him up.

"You survive, yah understand?"

"Daryl.." he heard Rick say but ignored him.

Connor opened his eyes because of the slap and smiled tiredly.

"Thanks.."

Daryl snorted angrily.

"Yer thanking me for a slap? Listen now,yah stupid leprechaun, you ain't dying, you hear me?"

"Thanks fer savin me" Connor croaked and smiled.

It felt like a stab to Daryl's heart. But he couldn't say anything because Connor started coughing again. Only that he wouldn't stop this time. It got worse and worse with every minute until he started shaking. He still clung to Daryl's hand the entire time until he suddenly stopped moving. Daryl could feel how he lost his grip and then Connor's head fell to the side.

"Connor?" he asked after a moment and stared at his friend's face.

His eyes were still open and stared up at the night sky.

Open. Unfocused. Dead.

Rick placed a hand on Daryl's shoulder and sighed.

"I'm sorry" he heard him say.

But Daryl just stared at Connor's bloody face. He grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him angrily.

"Wake up yah prick" he demanded.

When Connor wouldn't answer he shook him even more.
"Wake the fuck up, Connor" he spat and considered slapping him again.

Connor's head shook with every move because there was no life force holding it in place now. It was just an empty shell.

And his eyes were still open. Unfocused. Dead.

"I said wake the fuck up!" Daryl yelled and Rick tried to move him away from Connor's body.

"It's too late Daryl."

And then he saw the letters on his index finger. He just stared at his hand which lay there on Connor's chest.
The letters were wavy and hard to read but Daryl knew what they said. What they meant. And he knew what Connor's dying wish was.

Aequitas.

Justice. Equality.

Christ.

He needed to sit down. For a second he forgot how to breath. He just stared at the Irishman's face. Connor MacManus. His only and best friend in the world.

Dead.

Bit. By some flesh eating monster. Dead. Because he hadn't been there to help him and cover his ass. Dead, because he'd just driven off. In the end it had always been his fault whenever Connor had been hurt. And now he was dead. Because of him. He looked at the gun in his hand. He knew that the gun had belonged to his brother. Murphy. Daryl knew that Connor had shot his brother with his own gun. And now he wanted him to shoot him with Murphy's gun.
Justice. Equality. Aequitas.

So this was the promise the MacManus twins had made. And Connor wanted him to end it. To finish it. He stared at the gun and then looked at Connor. He couldn't bear seeing those dead eyes any longer so he placed a hand on his face and closed his eyes. He then pointed the gun at his head and placed a finger on the trigger. He had killed countless walkers, but no he couldn't do it. Couldn't pull the trigger. He'd hurt, beaten, and insulted that man so many times and now he just couldn't physically do it. Couldn't hurt Connor like that.

"You want me to do it?" he heard someone say and looked up.

Rick was still standing beside him. He'd forgotten all about him. And the others. He heard Carl and Lori crying. Daryl shook his head.

"Just..please leave us alone for a bit" he said quietly.

He was surprised how broken he sounded. He was surprised how much it hurt. Rick nodded and patted Daryl's shoulder.

The policeman left so it were just Connor and Daryl again.

"Yah going t'wake up now?" he asked and waited.

Part of him wanted it to be some sort of sick joke. He wanted Connor to open his eyes and start laughing at him.
Calling him names for believing some shit like this. After a moment he took Connor's hand and squeezed it.
But the Irishman wouldn't squeeze back.
His hand was cold and stiff.

"Where the fuck were yah all the time" Daryl murmured and shook his head angrily.

"With all yer saint shit. All them years I felt like shit because of my family. All them years I never had anyone. No buddies, no one but Merle.
Where the fuck where yah."

But Connor didn't answer.

Because Connor was dead.

"Why didn't we meet earlier, yah stupid prick. Why the hell didn't I get more time t'get to know yah."

He got angry when Connor wouldn't answer.

"Yah were the brother I've always wanted t'have, now smarten up and wake the fuck up now!" he yelled.

He was so angry. So furious. So utterly utterly heartbroken.

Daryl buried his face in his hands and shook his head with an angry sigh.

After a moment he looked up again. Somewhat hoping that Connor had opened his eyes by now.

But nothing happened.

Because Connor was dead.

Daryl sat next to Connor's body for hours.

He wouldn't sleep, he wouldn't move, he wouldn't cry, he wouldn't do anything but stare at his friend's face.

Some members of the group came over to talk to him. Say goodbye to Connor. Tell him how sorry they were.

Tried to talk him into ending it by shooting his friend dead.

It made Daryl snap once more. He got up and started yelling at them. Told them to leave them be.

After 3 hours, 47 minutes and 22 seconds Connor's hands started twitching and moving. His chest began to rise and fall a moment later. Daryl wasn't ready for this. He didn't want to see Connor like that. Zero tolerance for walkers. That's what he had said once. But how could he? He couldn't call him a walker or geek, because this was Connor.

The Irishman opened his eyes by sunrise. Only that the blue in his eyes was gone. They were gray and bloody. Deadeyes.

"Hey Connor" Daryl said quietly.

Now that he saw how his friend was waking up he realized that he'd been waiting for that. He had just wanted to see his friend moving. Breathing. Just once more. Except it wasn't Connor anymore. Daryl took the gun and pointed it at his friend's head. He could read the letters the Irishman had written on his hand. Aequitas. The last word Connor had written in his life.

"I'm sorry I don't know yer prayer" Daryl said and the thing that had used to be Connor, that wore his clothes and had his face, snarled and growled.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save yah" Daryl went on.

When Connor reached out for him and placed a hand on his chest, right where his heart was, Daryl pulled the trigger.
Connor was thrown back and fell to the ground.

"I hope you've got yer justice now " Daryl whispered and stared at the lifeless body.

When he looked down on Connor he saw that he was still holding the picture of him and his brother in the bar.
There were bloodstains all over it because of the gunshot wound. He saw how the blood was running down the picture, slowly staining Connor and Murphy's grinning faces.

"I hope you're with yer Murphy now."

And as he spoke he tasted salt on his lips.