She sits in a room surrounded by mirrors. Although she can't see the guards behind them, she can feel their eyes on her skin. They don't know who she is. They think she's a random social worker assigned to the case. Badly assigned. They pity her, but, at the same time, they can't wait to see what happens. Can't wait to see what the monster will do to her.
They must be disappointed so far. Disappointed yet surprised. All Rorschach has done is talk. Meg doubts Rorschach has talked much to others while in prison.
It's strange talking to him this long without him wearing the mask. He looks at her so intently, eyes bright like they're burning. Meg wonders if he's running a fever. His skin is flushed, too, and he seems uncomfortable.
"Leave," he says suddenly, voice hoarse.
Meg starts at the sudden order, the sudden tension in his voice. There's an undercurrent in it that she doesn't recognize. "What?" She's not sure if he's ordering her to leave the prison or leave the city, but she won't do either.
His face turns a brighter shade of red. He averts his eyes. "Leave city. Take Boy. Just go. Forget."
Her heart does a nose dive into the soles of her feet. She swallows against the sudden lump in her throat. "Forget what? You?"
He nods.
"Rorschach…" She inches her hand across the table towards where he has his pressed flat.
He stiffens, hands moving back incrementally. "No. Not safe here. Nothing safe. Best to go."
"Nowhere's safe with the world at the brink of war. I'm not leaving. Not you, not Adrian." She tries again and slides her fingers toward him.
This time, he doesn't move. The tips of her fingers brush against his hard, calloused ones. "I'm not giving up on you." Her heart pounds as she continues talking, telling him to cooperate with Dr. Long and getting moved and her visiting.
He shakes his head.
Tears fill her eyes. "Rorschach. Rorschach, I can't leave you." She'd promised herself she'd never say this. It's too embarrassing, too frightening. It's too big and it might frighten him away from her forever.
"I love you."
Rorschach goes completely still. He'd closed his eyes, but he opens them now and looks at her. Really looks at her, deeply, searching. Down to her soul.
The door opens and Adrian comes in.
"Darling, I need you. The people are waiting."
Meg, still leaning across the table, fingers pressed to Rorschach's, looks up. Frowns at Adrian, who stands in his costume, fists propped at his sides, smiling at her.
"What?"
Adrian steps toward her, hand extended. "Come along, Meg."
"No. No, I'm here with Rorschach." She shakes her head. "We need to get him out of prison. He's in danger. He…"
Adrian tilts his head, looking confused. "Meg. He's already dead."
She whips her head back to Rorschach.
A body sits there, skin flayed, blood gushing. Bone and brain are exposed, muscle and guts and…
Meg's eyes fly open, and she gasps sharply. Immediately, pain knifes through her chest, and she finds she can't exhale. She's frozen in place, propped up by pillows. Her fingers dig into the bedsheets and she fights the pain.
She must make some sound of distress she's not aware of because Adrian appears from somewhere in the room.
"Meg? Are you all right?"
"Hurts," she bites out.
He comes to the bed and sits next to her. Places his hand on her back and rubs soothingly, taking one of her hands. "I know it's hard, but you need to try and breathe. You're holding your breath, and that's going to allow the pain to magnify. In and out, darling. You can do it."
At first, she just manages short intakes of air. The exhales are shaky and full of tears. Gradually, the pain loses its intensity. The knife-like feeling goes away. Instead, Meg feels like her insides have turned to stone. She's stiff and awkward and rigid. It feels awful.
The baby starts to move and kick. It feels more like it's tap dancing right on Meg's bladder, which leads to a secondary problem.
"Adrian." Meg hates how needy she sounds, how tearful.
"What is it?" He brings his hand up and pushes her hair back from her forehead.
"Help me get to the bathroom, I can't make it on my own."
He sounds so pleased, so damn happy at the request. "Of course."
She wants to tell him that it doesn't mean anything. She's still furious at him. Frightened of him. But she only has so much energy, and right now the pain and the baby are taking up most of it. Meg doesn't have anything left for Adrian.
"Call me if you need anything," Adrian says after he gets her inside the bathroom. Then he steps out and closes the door.
Meg sighs and relieves herself. It takes a couple tries before she manages to get off the toilet, her center of balance is so bad. She's never been particularly graceful, but now she's got all the grace of a drunken hippo in at the ballet.
She staggers to the sink and begins to wash up. Once again, Adrian has thought of everything, from toothpaste to prenatal vitamins. He even brought the skincare regimen that he'd started her on after they got married. Once again, always making subtle improvements to the basic floor model he'd bought.
As she rubs lotion into her face, Meg looks at herself in the mirror. Her roots are starting to grow in, a paler shade of dishwater blonde clashing with the dark brown she'd gone with. It leaves her with a strange, two-toned look. She wonders if Adrian will let her continue to dye it. It's not a vast improvement, but the darker color suits her sallow skin tone better. It gives her more life. Meg knows she will never be pretty, but the dark hair makes her feel almost there.
The image of Rorschach looking at her with fire in his eyes makes her pause.
She'd forgotten how bright his eyes had been when they'd been in the interrogation room at the prison. How he'd looked at her like… with…
Meg still doesn't know exactly how to interpret that look. But in their last few meetings together, he'd been tense around her. She knows it probably had nothing to do with her, but sometimes she wonders…
There's a knock on the door. "Meg? Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Adrian." She wipes her hands on a towel and leaves the bathroom.
Adrian is waiting for her with a dressing gown.
"I can dress myself," she says with a scowl, allowing him to help her put it on. "I'm sure you have work to do."
"I've cleared my schedule for the next few days." He puts his arm around her and leads her from the bedroom. "You need me more than the world does right now."
"You could hire someone to look after me."
Adrian sighs. "I know I've broken your trust, Meg, but why can't you believe that I care for you?" He leads her to the dining room and helps her sit at the head of the table. He sits next to her and takes her hand.
"Because you were going to let me die." She pulls her hand away.
"I never wanted you to die. I always regretted the necessity. My joy when I realized you were alive… it overwhelmed me."
Shame washes over her, and she crosses her arms over her stomach. That was something she rarely let herself think about, despite the constant reminder: Adrian's reaction to finding her alive.
Sex is still something Meg is uncomfortable thinking about. She hadn't minded it with Adrian, not when she'd thought it was real. It had been a pleasant experience. Not something she was going to rush into doing again, or even pursue, but nice.
But it hadn't been real. She'd allowed this man to touch her, laid herself bare, to be as close to her as she'd ever allowed anyone before, and it'd been a lie.
Meg starts to cry. Weakly, with barely realized breaths that pass for sobs and tears leaking out of her eyes instead of flowing, but she cries. It's all she can manage right now.
"Meg?" He reaches out to her.
"Don't touch me!" She slaps his hand. Covers her face with both hands.
She hears him get up. Footsteps fading away, down a hall. The faint knock on a door. The mummer of voices.
Minutes pass and the footsteps return.
"No, I haven't been surfing," she hears Billy say. "Is it hard?"
"It's like anything, at first you won't be good, but you'll get better the more you practice. Today, you might get frustrated, but…." The elevator dings. A moment later, Adrian's voice is cut off.
"It's just us now, Mrs. Veidt," Miss Stacy says. "Mr. Veidt said you were having a tough morning and needed time to process."
Meg drops her hands. "Um… I'm fine. Just… hormones." She gives the other woman a wobbly smile.
Miss Stacy sits next to her. "Are you sure? There isn't anything else going on?"
"No. What? What else would…" She forces a laugh. "Don't be silly."
Miss Stacy studies Meg for a long moment before she says, "Okay. If you say so, then I believe you. I just kind of think it's funny that you've been here for all these months, and it's only now that Mr. Veidt's called me back to watch Billy."
Meg inhales sharply. Winces at the pain. "I… I could look after him myself before. It's only because of my being so ill now that we need help."
"Of course." She looks away. "I remember the last day I saw you. Billy and I were playing dolls in his playroom and you came in. I always thought you looked scared. And then, you were gone."
Meg says nothing.
"But," Miss Stacy adds, turning back to Meg, "I guess it's none of my business." She stands. "What do you want me to order you for breakfast? Eggs? Pancakes?"
"Um… French toast and scrambled eggs." She takes Miss Stacy by the hand as she begins to walk away. "Thank you," she says.
Miss Stacy smiles and nods, then goes to order breakfast, leaving Meg alone with her thoughts.
