Lioness

by Lizziekat15

STILL pissed about that deplorable finale. My mind has been teeming with a million ways it could have been better. This is just one of the many ideas I came up with. As always, I own nothing whatsoever to do with TWD or it's characters. And a big shout out again to Mistyeye for encouraging my ideas and angelsandarrows as well for keeping up the pats on the back.

4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The woman entered the room they had settled Glen, Maggie and Daryl in. Glen had insisted on Daryl being in the same room with he and Maggie, and she had agreed reasoning the injured man would be less anxious awaking in a room with familiar faces.

She crossed the room silently, taking in the sight of Glen sleeping with Maggie curled on her side beside him, Glen's hand resting protectively over Maggie's swelling abdomen. They had been able to stop the cramping, and the ultrasound had revealed the fetus to still be viable. The doctor who had examined Maggie had advised Glen that Maggie would need bedrest for the next few weeks to ensure an eventual full term and healthy delivery. Glen had agreed without hesitation. He had almost lost both Maggie and the baby and he was willing to risk his wife's not inconsiderable wrath to ensure she stayed healthy and prevent any more complications.

Her smile faded as she crossed the room toward the bed Daryl lay in. He had lost a lot of blood, and although her group had blood ready for transfusions it was a limited supply. Even with a transfusion, there was the problem of how he'd been weakened from the blood loss, beating, and emotional trauma he'd undergone earlier. She was sure he hadn't been in the healthiest condition before getting shot by that idiot Dwight. His entire group looked like they were running on fumes-eating but not necessarily proper food, lack of proper sleep and rest….constant stress…..they were all likely candidates for PTSD therapy back when there was such a thing. And from the scars she'd seen covering the man's back and chest it was likely he hadn't had an easy existence before the virus hit. They'd stripped his filthy and bloody clothing from him and cleaned him up as best as possible before slipping a hospital gown on him. That's when she'd caught a glimpse of his scars.

She stood by the bed, quietly watching him as he frowned and moved restlessly in his sleep. She knew the amount of pain medications he'd been given and was surprised he was moving at all. The doctor had wanted him as still as possible –his gunshot wound had been worsened by the manhandling he'd had benefit of Dwight. She sighed, and took a seat beside his bed. She hadn't been able to sleep and had gotten up to make herself a mug of chamomile tea hoping it would help. While she drank it she might as well keep an eye on him to make sure he didn't get too restless and injure his shoulder even more.