Hey you! New chapter! I'm glad that you like my stuff, since it's not much actual episode storyline anymore.
I will get back to it, but chance a few things. I'm so sorry that this fic is so freaking long omg I never thought it would be a 50+ fic.
Right now it looks like it will go up to 70 chapters no Susan stop it, sh sh.

setting: episode 16 "Welcome To The Tombs"

Damnation

Chapter 60 - Pressure

The corridors were still messy, dusty and extremely dirty. They made their way over to the prison infirmary, and Connor couldn't help but feel unsure about the whole thing now. He knew that they had to get Daryl over there, so Hershel could take care of the wound and probably save his life, but it was the dirt that worried him, the dirt and lack of equipment. He was well aware that the walkers and darkness were the least of their problems. The dirt and basically everything about this filthy place coud infect Daryl's wound and kill him even with the bullet being gone. Everything was such a mess, and the more he thought about it, the more it was giving him a headache and made him feel like shit.

He kept walking and searched each cell to their left and right to make sure no walker was in there, and pretty soon he could hear how Andrea and Michonne started talking about Woodbury. Every once in a while they would kill a bunch of walkers, but right now the Irishman was more interested in the conversation Andrea and Michonne were having. Because an idea struck him right then and there. He had forgotten all about Woodbury because of all the chaos around Daryl getting shot, but when he heard them talk about it he remembered. He had been there himself, remembered all the things this Milton guy'd had in his crazy lab when he had been tied to that table. Woodbury had been clean back then. Sterile, with electricity and running water.

The place was perfect, really. And a whole lot better than this stinking prison. And now the Governor was dead.
If only they could get Daryl over there... force them to help him instead of having to let a freaking vet perform the surgery...

I think we should kidnap that doctor fella. The one that got yah, he remembered his friend say. Think 'bout it. He could help you. And make us understand. Herschel's good enough for small injuries and all that, but he ain't got the knowledge t'do anything with your crap. But four eyes, he might be able to do something.

He killed another prisoner walker and decided to start talking.

"Eh Andrea" he muttered as he retrieved his knife and waited for them to walk around the corner.

Andrea and Michonne stopped talking so the blonde woman could talk to him instead.

"What's the matter?" she asked and looked around the corner, trying to see if there was danger ahead. But Connor wasn't talking about the walkers.

"About Woodbury. Now that tha slimy fucker is dead, how many of yer people do ye reckon will follow us and try t'kill us? And how many friendlies are there?"

They all kept walking and Andrea shrugged.

"There are about 80 people in Woodbury. At least 30 of them are fighters. Those that keep watch, those that do the scouting and attacked you when you were in town.
They're all extremely loyal to Phillip" she muttered and sighed.

"And a little easy on the trigger."

Connor nodded and looked at Michonne.

"Those military wannabes ye told us about?"

She nodded and Connor snorted.

"I know this sort of douchebags. Think they got balls bigger than the size their guns, usually the first who run from scary and dangerous shit."

They all stopped talking and walking when they heard some growling and the dragging of feet coming from somewhere down the corridor. Connor raised his hand in the air to stop everyone. They waited until they saw the small group of walkers that was making the noise. The undead were slowly staggering in their direction, arms reaching out for them and teeth snapping at them.

"Let me handle that" Glenn said and walked past Connor with his machete, and Michonne followed him with her katana a second later. She walked right at the undead, decapitating the first one with her incredibly sharp weapon. Once again Connor couldn't help but envy her skills, deadliness and style. Michonne was a silent and reliable killer, which was exactly the reason why he had picked her for this little mission. Andrea wanted to follow them as well, but Connor held her back so they could keep talking about Woodbury.

"Who's gonna have the lead now?"

Andrea watched Glenn and Michonne for a moment longer, before turning her head and looking at Connor with a frown.

"That would be..Martinez I think. He and Merle were the Governor's most loyal henchmen. Then there's Shumpert.
He doesn't say much, but he always stuck around with Martinez and Phillip."

When she noticed the thoughtful look on Connor's face she frowned even more.

"Why are you..what are you planning to do?"

The Irishman looked at her again but ignored her question.

"That Milton fella, the one that took care of my bite, you say he's not a bad person, that he helped ye?"

"Yes he did, he did. Why?"

"What about doctors, you got doctors there? Town's gotta have a doctor with that many people in there, they got a doctor's office?"

"Well, there's Dr. Stevens but.."

She froze and then widened her eyes a bit.

"Hold on, you're not planning on going back there, are you?"

Connor just looked at her for a while and then shook his head with a gentle snort.
Glenn and Michonne were done with the walkers now, so he started walking again.

"Don't be ridiculous" he just said and walked ahead, just so he didn't have to keep the conversation going.

He needed to get his head around this. Figure it out. The infirmary wasn't too far away now and there were still a couple of walkers around, but truth was that he wasn't really interested in them at the moment. All of this was temporary. It was too messy, too filthy. He needed to sort this out on his own. He told Glenn and Andrea to take another corridor and seal all the exits so no more walkers would get in here. He chose to take Michonne with him because a) she was a very good fighter and b) she didn't talk much and he could concentrate on his thoughts in the mean time.

He needed to gather the facts, everything Andrea had told him about this town. So there were about 80 people. He knew that by now. There were at least 30 people who were willing to fight, and most of them were out to kill simply because they had guns and wanted to use them. Woodbury was clean and there was a doctor and a researcher, there were women, old people and children. Their leader was dead but everyone thought they were the evil ones, and the fact that they had killed the Governor made them look even worse. The town was protected by walls and misguided blood thirsty men. Andrea and Michonne were the only two people who knew the Governor's true face.

And now all those Woodbury fucks were out for revenge, and as soon as they discovered that their leader was dead they would be on their way over here. They had about 24 hours. Maybe even less. He doubted that they were going to attack them during the night, but tomorrow would definitely be the day shit went down.

Daryl was dying and they needed to perform surgery on him and everything was so messy and so fucked...they needed to get him out of here. They needed to kill as many evil bastards as possible and get the hunter over to that godforsaken town. And maybe the whole Woodbury attacking them tomorrow was the best thing that could happen to them.

Now that he thought about it, it really was perfect. If Woodbury really attacked them tomorrow, then it would mean that the majority of fighters were out of town. With only maybe 5-10 people protecting the rest of Woodbury from walkers and shit. He was pretty sure that they were going to storm in here all big, with machine guns, cars and trucks just like last time. Woodbury would be vulnerable in the meantime, with all the reasonable people staying behind. Women, old men, kids, doctors.

They needed to get Daryl over there tomorrow. When they were busy fighting. And during that fight, they would have to make sure that every last evil motherfucker was going to get killed, leaving only the somewhat good guys there so no one could harm his friend or the others when they got back to town. Maybe after that fight they could even take over that godforsaken thing. They had eliminated the biggest threat, cut off the head of the snake, and a group without a proper leader was bond to make mistakes, to have doubts...This was their chance. It was their job, no his job to clean Woodbury from all evil, just like it had been his job to clean the filth off the streets before.

He just needed to come up with the right plan.

"You're thinking about getting him to Woodbury, don't you?" Michonne asked after what felt like hours of killing walkers in dark corridors.

Connor looked at her in surprise and frowned.

"What?"

Michonne kept walking with that slight knowing smirk on her face.

"Just figured you were asking a little too many questions, and it doesn't look like you're interested in Woodbury's demographics."

Connor had to smirk because he was actually quite impressed.
He hated that the woman was so smart and saw right through him, but he had to admit it: he was impressed.

"Maybe I am."

He had never really interacted with her before, which was why he was still a bit surprised by the whole thing. He was worried sick because of Daryl, but having a conversation with someone he didn't really know yet was actually refreshing, especially now that Michonne didn't seem to be so fucking stupid and stubborn like the rest of their group.

"I wouldn't trust anyone over there if I were you. They're dangerous, like sheep. You know what a herd of dumb sheep can do to you?
You don't need brains or a leader to kill someone."

Connor snorted and nodded. They noticed another two walkers and killed them, but that wouldn't end their conversation.

"Yeah, I know about people like tha. Opportunists and all that crap" Connor muttered after pulling his knife out of a walkers skull.

Michonne snorted as well.

"They praised that guy like he was the new Messiah. They won't exactly welcome you with open arms after you killed their beloved preacher."

"Well, who says we killed 'im? The way I see it, he crashed his car and walkers ate 'im. Made him unrecognizable. And that was miles away from the prison. I mean, anything could've happened. Tragic accident. Accidents happen, don't they then?"

Michonne raised an eyebrow and looked down on the Irishman, until she rested her eyes on his left trigger finger.

"And that's just a fancy tattoo you got when you were drunk?"

Connor pressed his lips together and started walking again.

"Oh whatever, woman. Let's keep going."

When they finally reached the infirmary it snapped him out of this overthinking-about-a-Woodbury-plan state. He finally remembered what was more important right now, because if he didn't get Daryl in here soon then his whole plan would be useless anyway. No, right now they didn't need to clean town but this very room, and he was going to make sure that his friend survived this shit.

He just had to.

There was way too much blood. That was all he could think about as he watched Hershel fiddle about with the bullet wound in Daryl's chest. It was supposed to be a good thing that the bullet had gone right through. Only three tiny little segments had to be taken out, and that wasn't even the main problem. The bullet had hit some blood vessels, that were not only causing Daryl to bleed heavily, they also made the whole thing pretty complicated for Hershel. It was incredibly hard for him to close them because they could hardly see a thing and they didn't have the right tools, and Connor's sheer presence made it even more ridiculous.

Most of the time he could stay calm and be quite relaxed, but whenever it had been about Murphy and now Daryl he couldn't keep his cool. He wouldn't stop talking and freaked out because every little thing that looked wrong, and if it weren't for him insisting that he should be the one helping with the instruments and wound then people would've kicked him out hours ago. He was worse than a soon-to-be father in a delivery room, and when things went even more downhill he was a complete mess.

It got more and more obvious that Daryl really needed blood, and that made the controversial question even more relevant.

Should they do it? Should they give him his blood and risk killing him or infecting him?

After almost one hour of working on the wound it was finally sealed and taken care off, but when Hershel placed his fingers on the hunter's cold and sweaty neck and wrist he just shook his head.

"Preasure's still dropping. He needs blood. He won't survive without it. We've done everything we could but...he needs blood."

He exchanged glances with Connor, Rick, Maggie, Carol...everyone that was in the room. Michonne, Glenn and Andrea were still outside and kept an eye on their surroundings to make sure that no walkers would interrupt the surgery. Connor stared at his friend, who was lying there on the table, all pale and bloody. Daryl still had not opened his eyes yet, and it had been hours since he'd last heard him talk. It was kind of ridiculous, really. He'd just managed to finally, finally get over Murphy. He and Daryl had just managed to overcome their own problems after that terrible start of their friendship back at the farm. They had grown so close and he had recovered just because of this stupid bastard on the table, and now this?

It was so fucking unfair. He didn't want any of it.

"Let's do it" he said and finally looked at Hershel.

Rick and the old man exchanged another look.

"You sure?" the policeman asked, and Hershel just shrugged with a worried look on his face.

Connor knew that he would be lying if he said that he was sure everything was going to work out. He still hated that he didn't know anything about his own body, his own blood, and part of him wondered why the fuck they had wasted so much time on doing random shit instead of trying to figure out what was wrong with him. He knew that he had been infected, twice, and that the walkers did not attack him because they saw him as their own. He was pretty positive that he still carried whatever they had pumped in his veins with every bite, and he also knew that Hershel was pretty much right. It could kill Daryl, infect him just like a bite from a walker.

The Irishman sighed and stepped closer to his friend so he could grab his cold hand for a moment. He felt it now, the weak pulse that was getting weaker still. He then remembered what Rick had told them: they were all infected anyway, and they would all turn as soon as they had died. So what was the point? He only had four options here, and three of them would end with Daryl dying. One: give him his blood and maybe kill him with the virus. Two: Give him someone elses blood, trigger a rejection, clog up his arteries – heart attack. Three: refrain from giving him blood completely: have him die from blood loss and four: give him his blood, and nothing fucking happens because he cannot infect anyone.

Connor now had to think of all the times he could have infected others through direct contact. Whenever someone had stitched up his wounds. The many many times Daryl and he had interacted, the two times Daryl had performed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on him. He'd held Judith, Milton had worked on his bite wounds, and they all were still alive. It had to fucking work.

He grabbed his rosary and nodded.

"Aye. Let's do it" he said and walked over to the chair next to the operation table, so he could sit down and present his right arm.

"Do you really think this is a good idea? It could make it worse. And Connor's lost too much blood already. Just look at him. He passed out twice in a matter of two days. I think we should.." Carol tried to reason with them as she stepped closer to Daryl and took his hand, but Connor wouldn't let her finish.

"'m fine" he muttered and flexed his arm a couple of times.

"Come on, he's fucking dying on that table over there. We need t'hurry!" the Irishman demanded and grabbed his rosary with his broken hand.

Carol looked at Rick and Hershel with pleading eyes.
Then Rick gave the nod, which made Carol put a hand on her mouth as she turned around and shook her head.

Saying that he was dizzy would be an understatement. Now that they kept pumping blood out of his arm he felt more and more cold and sick, and although he hated that feeling and needles in general he still wanted them to keep going. He felt really unsure about the whole thing when he saw how Hershel started pumping his blood in Daryl's arm, and his mind wouldn't stop playing tricks on him. He couldn't stop thinking about the big what if? What if it killed Daryl? What if it turned him? What if what if what if? Part of him just wanted to get up and throw the blood bag to the ground and destroy it, just so he could keep them from making it flow inside his friend.

But he still knew that they needed to take that risk, so he did the only other thing he could do about it. He gently put his broken hand on the rosary on his chest, closed his eyes and started praying, muttering the words over and over again. Just for a moment he tried to forget about everything, the fact that he felt like shit and sickos were probably going to kill them, no, only one thing mattered right now: and that was Daryl's life.

They took his blood for several minutes until he felt really shitty, and although he tried to hide it to keep them going the whole group still seemed to notice and made him stop for a bit. Hershel informed him that Daryl was stable for now but that they would need to take more blood later, and maybe Connor was a bit too enthusiastic about it. He got back up as soon as the needle was out of his arm, and the abrupt movement made him see black spots and he nearly fainted again. It was quite embarrassing actually and made him extremely angry, so when Rick and Carol tried help him he just shoved them away and started walking around in circles.

"Alright, now that we got some time I think we should start talking about what's up next fer us" he muttered and rubbed his forehead, hoping to make spinning go away. He could still see how everyone was watching him with worried looks on their faces, and he just knew that they were going to give him shit about his own well-being in a second. Rick didn't disappoint him there.

"No, I think you should calm down from your little trip and think, Connor. You are in no condition to..."

"I said I'm fine, alright?" he spat and looked at the policeman and Andrea, who had joined them by now.

"Did ye tell them yet?"

Andrea frowned.

"Tell them about what?"

Connor snorted and looked at the rest of the group.

"You meet us back on the road and give us all of that terror shit, and then you ferget ta fucking mention it here?"

Andrea looked offended and put both her hands on her hips.

"I was trying to help Daryl and didn't exactly get the chance to explain things yet."

"Well you better start talking then, cos look at you all, sitting ducks here while there's a fucking cavalry heading fer us with big guns and shit.
You tell yer girlfriend about that nice little chair that sick fuck prepared fer her?"

Andrea paled and Michonne narrowed her eyes.

"What?"

Connor also noticed the look on Rick's face, and how confused the rest of the group looked. The Irishman snorted and shook his head, but regretted it instantly because it made him feel even more sick. But there was no way he was going to puke or faint now, he let go of it by channeling all his anger.

"Oh right, I see. Nobody tells anyone shit here. Well, newsflash fer you people: the Governor asked our dear leader over here to hand Michonne over in exchange fer leaving us alone. But lovely Phillip had other things ta do. He was gonna shoot you as soon as you turned up in Woodbury, and he would've torn you t'shreds. Layer by layer like a fuckin onion" he said to Michonne after giving Rick and angry stare.

"What?" Carol asked. Everyone looked surprised except for Rick and Hershel.

"Is that true?" Maggie asked and Rick just kept looking at Connor for a while. He swallowed and looked at his feet a moment later.

"He offered us this deal. Only Daryl, me and Hershel knew about it."

"And you weren't gonna tell us?" Glenn asked in disbelief and Carol folded her arms with an angry headshake.

"This isn't right, this is not how we do this."

"You were really going to hand her over? Just like that? But..she's our friend" Beth joined in and Rick finally raised his voice.

"I'm just trying to keep everyone safe! They offered us a deal, we said we were going to think about it and that was the idea. We're not giving up this prison!"

Michonne snorted quietly in the far corner of the room and stared at Rick.

"Right. You're just giving up your own people for the sake of having a roof above your head" she said and left the room with a headshake.

"Mich" Andrea called after her and looked at Connor with an angry frown. The Irishman stared back at her with just the same angry frown and watched her go after her friend.

All the others wouldn't stop giving Rick angry looks, and although Hershel tried to calm everyone down and back their leader up Connor knew that this was his chance to take over the wheel.

"I was just trying to figure all this out. I didn't even know yet if we were really going to pull this through, but I'm gonna do everything I can to keep this group safe!" Rick tried to justify his plans, and Connor had enough.

"Then use yer fucking brain fer once if you really wanna do this, Rick! Cos all yer doing right now is talk big. Yer little plan obviously didn't work, and we could've finished this ages ago! And now his angry mob is on the way over here. Andrea says they got heavy armory, military experience, and they outnumber us big time. Daryl is dying, I'm fucked, but we managed ta kill the Governor fer you. This is yer fucking chance now. So tell me, what are ye gonna do? Huh? What are ye gonna do t'keep us safe? What are we gonna do t'keep this prison standing?"

Rick just stared back at him and clenched his fists, and for a moment it looked like his mind went blank.

"We're going to war" he answered, which made the Irishman snort.

"Oh yeah, how sweet. And how do ye wanna do this? We got a bunch of civilians here who don't know shit about wars and killing real people in battle. We got kids, and cripples, some of our best fighters are gone, there's holes in the walls and you don't even know the layout of this fucking prison. We got not enough ammo, no real cover and not the right clothes t'protect our bodies from bullets of this sort of army caliber that we're talking about, and you wanna go t'war. It's like bringing pointy sticks t'a gunfight. Fucking brilliant. What's yer strategy then?"

"I..." Rick mumbled but Connor wouldn't let him finish the sentence.

Just for a moment he had looked at his bloody and pale friend again, and this was enough to make him snap even more.

"What are ye gonna do?!" he yelled and Rick snapped as well.

"I don't know!" he yelled back and looked at Beth and Maggie, who he had startled with his outburst.

For a second it looked like he was also seeing something else, something that wasn't there.
He messaged the bridge of his nose and looked down again.

"I just need.." he began, but then something else interrupted him.

The whole group turned their heads in the direction of the operation table when they heard some violent shaking and movement.
They all widened their eyes in shock when they saw that Daryl was lying there and started shaking and twitching like someone was electrocuting him.