That night, Meg can't sleep. She lays in bed, listening to Adrian breathe, staring at the wall. Her lower back aches and her stomach is tied in knots. It almost feels like she's having contractions, but she's not due for a few weeks. That can't be it. It ican't/i.

Finally, her legs are too restless. She can't stop them from moving. It's too hot, even with the air conditioning. And the cramping won't go away.

Meg throws off the blankets and climbs out of bed. First, she shuffles to the bathroom to relieve herself. Then, she just starts pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth. Like a caged animal.

Miss Stacy hasn't said anything else to her since that first day. Nothing of support. Nothing to indicate that she's willing to help. But Meg doesn't think she imagined it. A sliver of hope has embedded itself in her soul, and she can't help…

But there is no way that she and Miss Stacy can outsmart Adrian. It'd only get one of them hurt. Or worse.

But, what if…

No.

But what if Meg had made a difference in the months she'd traveled the country? She'd gone to more than a dozen cities and towns, trying to spread the truth of what Adrian had done. She always started the same: printing her articles and leaving them everywhere and anywhere she could. Next, she'd find a place to hold a meeting and rent it out. Distribute flyers. She always got a small crowd. Mostly men, a few women.

At the meetings, she wore a mask, a black domino, to try and protect her identity. She'd tell what she knew, read a bit from Rorschach's journal, and answer questions as best she could. Most of the attendee's went away unconvinced, but there were always at least four who stayed after to talk with her. They came back the next time she had a meeting, bringing friends. By the time she left town, the group of four had grown to twenty and the original four were running the meetings on their own.

If I could get word to any of them, maybe someone could help me. Maybe…

A particularly harsh cramp breaks off the train of thought. She bends over, rubbing her stomach and breathing through the pain until it starts to fade.

None of them knows it was me. I kept my identity hidden, and none of them know…

Jasmine.

Jasmine had been at the last meeting. She'd gotten Meg to the hospital.

Did she see me without the mask? Does she know? Could she get the word out?

Unless Adrian had already thought of that. Paid her off or…

No. He wouldn't have killed someone who'd saved Meg. At least, she hoped not.

The next cramp hits her hard. She groans out loud and goes down on one knee. A crushing, squeezing sensation makes her lose her balance. She falls to all fours. Clawing at the carpet, she pants, none of the air getting in deep enough.

"Meg?"

She hears Adrian get out of bed. His footfalls on the floor. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." The sensation eases, loosening. She's able to take a full breath. "I think dinner didn't agree with me."

He laughs softly and takes her hands. "I think it might be time."

Meg allows him to help her to her feet, shaking her head. "No, I still have a few more weeks." Another cramp hits. She clenches her jaw shut, refusing to call it a contraction, because she has a few more weeks, dammit. It's not happening now.

"Darling." Adrian's voice is chiding. "Don't be silly. Let's get you changed and get to the hospital. Our daughter is coming."

Meg goes cold at his words. Our daughter.

Our daughter.

Our daughter.

"Meg?"

She blinks. "Right," she forces herself to say. "Get dressed. Hospital."

Adrian frowns. "Are you all right?"

Don't panic. Keep breathing. Just get through this.

"Darling?"

Meg smiles and gives a little laugh. "I'm fine. Just nervous."

The worry lines on his face relax. Adrian pulls her into an embrace and kisses her softly. "You'll do fine, Meg. I'll be there the whole time." He kisses her again. "You won't be alone."

Ever again.