Three days later, Meg can't remember what it feels like to be angry at Adrian. The fact is, she's so exhausted and stressed, she can't remember what feelings are. She moves through the day like a zombie, every moment filled with the reality of dealing with a newborn. Her life is a constant flurry of diapers, spit-up, bottles, and screams with brief, blissful moments of quiet.
She's in one of those blissful moments now. The baby is in the bedroom, having just gone down for a nap. Stacy's taken Billy to the park, and Adrian and Meg are collapsed on the couch in the main room.
Meg sighs and closes her eyes. She can't remember the last time she's gotten more than three hours of sleep at a time. She thinks she may have showered the day before, and she vaguely remembers eating something that morning. But, honestly, everything is starting to blur together.
Next to her, Adrian stirs. "You should sleep." He puts his hand on her leg and gives her a little push. "Sleep when she sleeps."
"You've been up for the same amount of time as I have." Meg yawns, her head drooping over and falling onto his shoulder. She knows she still hates him, but it's hard to summon the energy to fire that hatred right now. "You should sleep too."
His head rests against hers. "I need to look for a nanny. We're in desperate need of one. How…" He breaks off, yawning. "How do people manage this without any help? If we didn't have Miss Stacy, what would Billy be doing?"
"Well, if we were a normal family, living near people, I'm sure he'd be out playing with kids his age. But you've got him trapped up here."
"Not trapped. Protected."
"Whatever."
Adrian wraps his arms around her and shifts so they're both lying down on the couch. He spreads his legs so Meg can rest comfortably between them, her head resting on his chest. "I've narrowed down the choices to around fifty. I'll have my team run their references and get back to me. Then, I'll start interviewing. With any luck, we'll have someone by the end of the week."
"Mm-hmm." Meg stretches and rolls onto her stomach, trying to get more comfortable. "Maybe we're going at this the wrong way. There's no reason we both need to get up for every feeding. Especially at night."
He runs his fingers through her hair. They get caught in the tangles, and he works through them. "I'm not going to make you get up at two AM alone. I don't want you to feel like you're in this by yourself."
"And I can't ignore her. That'd make me a terrible mother."
Adrian squeezes her neck. "Nonsense." He runs his fingertips up and down the curve of her neck, sending ripples of pleasure through her. "I think you're on to something. Instead of coming at her as a unified team, we need to coordinate our attack. Split up."
She laughs. "This isn't war."
"Isn't it?" He squeezes her neck again before resuming his stroking. "How about this? From now on, we rotate shifts. That way, we'll both get the rest we need."
"We need to be with Billy, too. Can't neglect him, even with Stacy around. So, during the day, whoever isn't on Molly duty will be with him when he's home." Her eyes fall shut. Warm waves of sleep start washing over her, and she thinks she could fall asleep right here.
Adrian moves her hair off the side of her face. "Oh, dear. Meg, you've got spit-up behind your ear." He runs his thumb down the hollow behind her ear.
Goosebumps raise where he touches. She shivers and makes a sound in her throat.
Adrian lifts his thumb off her skin. Holds it just inches above, so she can still feel its presence, its ghost.
Meg opens her eyes. Bites her lip and stares at the wall, anticipating his next move.
Sure enough, he lowers his thumb and strokes again. Slower this time, more sensually.
Her stomach twists with a painfully pleasant feeling she recognizes from the few times she's been aroused.
Meg pushes herself up. "Don't." She moves to the other side of the couch, pulling her knees to her chest and hugging them tightly.
Adrian sits up as well. He doesn't move any closer to her and lowers his hands to his lap, but his eyes are on fire as he gazes at her intently.
Her face grows hot. She looks away, towards the bedroom where Molly is sleeping.
"Can we talk about it?" Adrian asks.
"There's nothing to talk about."
"I disagree. The day after you were released from the hospital, you expressed some shame at what happened between us. I didn't address it then, because I thought what you needed was time alone. But…"
"Adrian," she snaps. "Let it go."
"I won't." His voice is just as sharp, and she's so surprised at hearing the genuine emotion in his voice that she looks at him.
His face softens once her eyes are on his. He takes a breath. "I don't want you thinking that our daughter came out of a lie. Because she didn't. She didn't, Meg," he insists, cutting her off when she starts to protest. "When I saw you, saw that you were still alive, I was overcome with joy. I didn't believe what I was seeing. And I needed to know, truly know, with every sense, that you were there. Because I love you. And being that loved is nothing to be ashamed of."
Meg rests her forehead on her knees and closes her eyes. Sleep beckons her and, now that Adrian's said something, she can feel the bits of dried baby spit-up and drool and sweat on her skin. She wants to shower. She wants to sleep. She wants this nightmare to be over.
"Meg?"
She lifts her head. "I'd never had sex with anyone until you. Maybe you really did love me at that moment. But it doesn't change the fact that I was your sacrificial lamb. You played me for a fool. And that's why I'm ashamed."
Adrian moves across the couch to her. Puts his hand on her knee. "There is not one person in the world who would judge you for what happened between us that day."
Her eyes fill with tears. She looks at him and raises an eyebrow, her heart breaking once again.
She sees the moment he gets it. When he realizes that what he said is wrong, that there was one person who would judge and condemn her for what she'd done.
He shakes his head. "He would have been wrong."
"Would he have?"
"Rorschach set an impossible standard for anyone to live up to, even you." Adrian sounds firm, but she hears a hint of desperation at the edges of his voice. "People are allowed to explore their sexuality. You are allowed to test the limits of your sexuality. If you decide you never want to have sex again, that's fine. It's your choice. But in that moment, Meg, what did you feel?"
"What I felt was a lie."
Adrian gets to his knees and tries to take her hands in his.
Meg pulls them away.
"Meg. My Meg, please. Please, don't let your love for that sociopath allow you to shame yourself into something that is not shameful. You can be angry, you can be upset, but, my darling, you did nothing wrong."
Her head is spinning. She can feel the tears leaking out of her eyes, the sobs building in her chest. It's easier to cry now than it was in the first few days after her pulmonary embolism, but she's tired of it. Tired of feeling weak. Of feeling helpless. Of crying and tears. And yet, she can't stop.
"Meg?"
She sniffs. "I judge me."
"Please don't. Step out of that black and white world you so long for and see the shades of gray. Maybe then you can accept that, yes, I planned to sacrifice you, but I still love you deeply. I thought you were gone and was overjoyed when I found you alive." He touches her cheek, running his thumb along her jaw. "My life would be easier without you as a complication, but I wouldn't give you up for the world."
From the bedroom, Molly starts wailing.
Meg closes her eyes. Tears roll down her face.
Adrian wipes them away.
"I'll get her," he says. "You shower and take a nap. I think you need it more."
The wails turn to screams.
Meg nods. "Thank you." Feeling stiff and creaky, she uncurls herself from the ball she'd been in. Climbs off the couch.
Adrian catches her hand before she leaves. "Meg, I know how desperately you want the world to be black and white, but it's going to kill you."
Her insides freeze. "Is that a threat?"
"No." He squeezes her hand. "No, darling. I just mean, you are so intent on punishing yourself for things that you are not guilty of. I'm afraid of what will happen to you if you don't expand your worldview."
Meg closes her eyes. Molly's wailing is drilling into her head, making her feel like she's got screws driving through the bones. Her neck is stiff and tight, stomach hollow, and head spinning.
"You better get her. She sounds hungry." She pulls her hand away.
Adrian sighs. He rises from the couch, puts his hands on Meg's shoulders, and kisses her neck. "Think about what I said?"
She nods.
He kisses her neck again, and Meg has to hold back another shiver of near arousal that trickles through her. Then, he pulls away and walks to the bedroom to get their child.
Meg waits until he emerges with Molly in his arms before she goes through the bedroom and into the bathroom. She closes the door and leans against it, letting out a long, slow sigh.
"Damn, Adrian," she whispers, banging her head on the door. It only makes the pain worse, and she winces.
And damn herself, too. She's made it almost twenty-four years without ever having a sexual response to a man. Why does Adrian have to be the one who can turn her on?
It'd happened before, she reflects as she begins stripping for her shower. Back in New York, when she'd intended to ask if she and Billy could move in permanently. Adrian had given her a look, and Meg had gotten hot all over. Same twisting stomach, same fire going through her.
I hate him. Meg viciously turns the knob on the shower, letting the water run. How can I be attracted to someone I despise? Maybe Rorschach was right and everyone is depraved. Even me. That thought cools her anger and brings her back to depression. She climbs into the shower feeling heavy, weighted down.
The worst part is, she loved Rorschach, but she never felt that way around him. The closest she got was wanting to kiss him. But she's never thought about having sex with him, had never gotten aroused by his touch. He'd felt safe. Secure. Comfortable.
But, so had Adrian, at first. And even now that he is actively pursuing her, trying to convince her that he loves her, desires her, wants her, she's still not frightened.
At least, I'm not frightened he'll go too far sexually. Who knows if he'll arrange a tragic accident to take me out of the picture, leaving him a widower valiantly persevering in the face of adversity.
Meg stops shampooing her hair, frozen at the thought.
The truth is, she hasn't really thought of what Adrian might do to her if she doesn't submit to his will. But why not just kill her? He has his son and his daughter. Why keep the wife around if all she does is fight him?
The blood drains from her face. Meg feels lightheaded. She sinks to the floor of the shower.
I need to be smarter. I need to give him a reason to keep me alive. I'm the expendable one, and losing me will fit into the narrative he's built just as easily as keeping me around will. It's just a matter of how he spins it.
Rorschach's final entry floats through her head once more. Have lived life free from compromise and step into the shadow now without complaint.
Meg exhales slowly. "Sorry, Rorschach. But I have to think about my kids. I need to survive. And, to do that, I need to compromise."
