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Maggie was going to be fine in the long run, she'd have one hell of a scar down her back when it healed, but she would live. Negan had said bringing the idiotic duo on this trip was a bad idea. Not that she would listen to him about it. Now she was hurt, they were two or three days from home. God knows how many hostile people or walkers were waiting out there.
They should have brought along people who could fight. Elton and Lee were good at growing and tending crops, but neither thinking or fighting were their strong suit. How the pair had managed to survive this long remained a mystery to him. If they were cunning he'd guess they manipulated others into protecting them, but they weren't. Perhaps, it was just sheer dumb luck. Some people were blessed with it.
“Will you hold still?” Negan asked, trying to put a needle through her flesh in piss poor light. He ignored her huffs and hisses of pain, Elton and Lee or Tweedledum and Tweedledee as he liked to refer to them were to squeamish to watch him patch her up were in the room next door.
Maybe if they were back at the hospital Doctor Feel Good or Hershel would offer her something for the pain, but they weren't. He dare not leave the wound open for that long. “You know if you had listened to me in the first place, we wouldn't be in this situation. He can't help reminding her, he was right. Just once he'd like her to admit it.
“Your the one who said they needed toughening up,” Maggie hissed, digging her nails into the fabric of her pants to stop herself from showing how much pain she was in. Negan rolled his eyes, of course she would find a way to make it his fault. He'd be more surprised if she hadn't. “How much longer until you are done?”
“Patience is a virtue, Margaret,” Negan hummed, she wasn't facing him, but he didn't need her to be to know she frowning and glaring at him.
Maggie's stretched out on the floor lying on her stomach, Negan had taken the first watch while Tweedledum and Tweedledee rested. He saw her try and fail to fall asleep. Negan bet she wished she had allow him to bring alcohol on the trip, she could have drunk away her pain. It's on the tip of his tongue to bring it up, but swallowed back down when she let out a gigantic sigh.
“You holding up okay?” Negan asked as he waited for her to reply he couldn't help feel sharp sting of bitterness of how much of his life had been wasted waiting. Waiting for death, waiting in a cell, waiting for the next threat or crisis, waiting here and now for morning to come and try to make their way back home.
“Yes, no, I don't know,” Maggie answered, trying to prop herself up and not pop out her stitches. “Talk me, distract me, usually I can't get you to shut up.”
“I can be quiet, sometimes, well not a lot of the times but sometimes,” Negan commented, he was close enough to her that he could take her hand. He could touch and offer comfort, but he couldn't bare to see her wrestle with whether she should shake off or not. Maggie can take and he can give, but it can only ever be on her terms. After what he did he supposed that was right. “Did I tell you who Hershel has a crush on yet?”