Rorschach stands by the window, body practically vibrating with tension. The splotches on his mask move rapidly.
Meg wonders what happened. He wasn't this tense when he came in. Alert and on edge, yes, but Dr. Manhattan has just left Earth and the US is getting closer to nuclear war. And, if Rorschach is right, there is a mask killer at large. Of course he is on edge.
But it's something else. Something more. Ever she'd hugged him, he's been agitated.
"Adrian's the next target," she says. "If there's really a mask killer. I mean, you're the most active mask, but you focus on the criminals on the street. Adrian's so high profile." She rests her chin on knees. Raises her eyes, looking at him through eyelashes.
"Smartest man on earth probably realizes that. Good fighter." He tugs at his fingers. "Perhaps you should leave. If they go through you and Boy."
She shakes her head. "I can't. Three people are out with flu, and we're already understaffed with Alexi gone. And I can't disrupt Billy's life. Not so soon after Sara. He needs a routine. Structure." She shrugs. "We'll be fine.
He pushes away from the window and comes to the bed. His ragged coat brushes against the satin comforter. Rorschach places his hands on either side of Meg. He leans forward until his hat brushes the top of her head and his nose touches hers.
Meg's heart gives a funny little stutter. A painful lurch. Her breath catches, like she's swallowed air and it's gotten trapped, but she can't tear her eyes away from Rorschach.
"If anything happens, you need to leave." He's still a moment, then he pushes his mouth against hers. Kisses her.
This didn't happen. This isn't how it went. He didn't… we didn't…
Again, her heart stutters. Pain blossoms in her chest.
Roschach's mask adheres to her face, sticky and viscous. It blankets her nose and seals her mouth shut. She can't breathe. Meg pulls back, but the mask follows, tearing off Rorschach's face, smothering her. Panicked, she claws at her face, trying to pull it off, get it off, get it off…
"Get it off! Get it… off!"
"Shh! Stop, darling, you'll hurt yourself." Someone took her hands and gently stilled them. "You're all right, Meg. You're safe."
Oh no. She opens her eyes, knowing who she'll see and hoping it's not true.
But it is. He's there, standing next to the bed, wearing a soft, lilac dress shirt that's rumpled, sleeves rolled to the elbows. His tie is missing, collar unbuttoned and off-center and hair mussed. It almost looks real, like he's run his fingers through it many times and not the artful display of worry Meg is sure it is.
"Adrian."
He breaks into a fond smile. "Hello, Meg." Adrian kisses her hand—where, she notices, her wedding band resides once more–then releases it to smooth her hair back from her forehead. "Are you all right? Are you in any pain?" His accent tinges his words, another indication that he's affecting concern.
"No, I'm… The baby." She begins to hyperventilate and struggles to sit up. "What happened to the baby? Is it all right? Did I miscarry? What…"
"Meg, she's fine. The baby is fine." Adrian grips her by the shoulders and rests his forehead against her. "The baby is perfectly healthy."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." He takes her hand and places it on her stomach. "She's in there, sleeping, waiting to be born. Don't worry about her. It's you we need to worry about."
Tears press behind her eyes. She takes a breath to let them out, but a dull, heavy pain rakes through her chest. All she can manage is a little cry of pain before it becomes overwhelming.
Adrian helps her lie back into a semi-reclined position on the bed. He strokes her shoulder as Meg fights for air.
"She's awake," she hears Adrian say. Someone says something back and then Adrian is pulling a seat next to the bed. "How bad is the pain? Can you breathe?"
She shakes her head. Tears leak out the corners of her eyes. "What… what's going on?"
"You had a pulmonary embolism. Blood clots in your lungs."
The pain is receding somewhat. It's getting easier to breathe. "What?"
"The doctor says it's not uncommon during a pregnancy. You're lucky. One of the women at the meeting you were leading, Jasmin, is an obstetrician. She recognized the symptoms when you fainted, got you to the hospital, and told them her suspicions. She's the reason you and the baby are still alive."
The nurse comes in at that moment, followed by the doctor. The next hour is full of medical staff parading in and out, taking blood, doing ultrasounds on her legs and arms, administering pain medication, and giving her something to calm her anxiety.
"If you need anything, Mrs. Veidt, make sure you press this button," Nurse Annie says pointing to the intercom. "And I mean anything. Remember, you're not to get out of bed without one of us, so if you need to go to the bathroom, call us. Someone will come right away."
"Thank you," Meg says, dry throat making her voice sound croaky. She tries for a smile as the nurse pats Meg's leg and leaves.
Adrian peels away from the wall and crosses the room to her bed. He picks up the pitcher of water and pours a cup.
Meg takes it and drinks deeply. When she's done, she places it back on the side table and looks at him. "Billy?"
"He's fine. Thank you for…" He swallows. "He was glad to see me. Thank you."
"I knew we couldn't run from you forever. There was no reason to make him fear you."
"Do you fear me?" Adrian sounds wistful.
Meg raises her eyebrows. "Adrian, you killed millions of people."
"So I could save billions of lives."
"You were going to let me die. Let Billy die." Her jaw trembles, but she clenches her teeth together until it stops. When she's sure her voice won't waver, she says, "You made me love you, and it was all a lie."
His steps forward, eyes blazing. "It is not a lie. I love you, Meg. I love Billy."
"Then you don't know what love is." She says it simply, without passion, without anger.
Adrian stares in disbelief for a long moment, then laughs. "No. No, I suppose I don't. But I guess Rorschach did."
She sighs. "This has nothing to do with Rorschach."
"No, I think it does. I think you're still blinded by your silly, schoolgirl crush for that psychopath."
Tears spill out of her eyes. "I think you should leave."
He starts to say something, then stops. Closes his eyes, fists clenching.
Oh, God. What's he going to do to me?
Adrian exhales a long, slow breath and opens his eyes. "Now is not the time for this conversation. You've been through so much, darling. You need to rest. I'll go and be back tomorrow." He steps towards her.
Meg pulls back. "Don't."
Adrian stops. Nods. And finally, he turns and leaves.
With a sobbing gasp, Meg lays back against the bed with a shuddering sigh. Pain shoots through her as she tries to find a way to recline, adjusting pillows and her legs until she's somewhat comfortable.
Tears leaking out of her eyes, nose running, she places her hands on her swollen stomach. Eight months. She'd made it eight months before he caught her.
The walls press around her like a cage. She shudders. "Oh, baby. What are we going to do?"
