| Code Name: Shadow | (DC's Legends of Tomorrow)

Meg woke up in the med bay, laying down on one of the reclined hospital beds. Her stomach was tightly wrapped, and a blanket was draped around her shoulders. There was a dull, stiff throb that traveled throughout her stomach, making her nervous to move.

As she looked to her left, she saw Ray. He was awake, and even standing. He had bruises on his face, and around his hands- but that didn't seem to bother him. His eyes were scanning the screen that read Margaret's vitals and condition.

"How are you?" He asked, glancing in the red head's direction. Meg mentally evaluated herself. She was tired, sore, and felt wobbly.... but she was alive.

"Fine." Meg shrugged. She moved her arms to push herself into a more upright position, dismissing the dull ache in her sides, "Am I patched up yet?"

"Almost. You're burns are as good as they can be, which isn't saying much... but Gideon managed to heal your broken ribs." Ray explained. Meg nodded slowly. She knew the second the hot metal touched her sides that they'd scar. They'd heal, like broken bones, but leave a nasty mark on her body.

"Well... I expected that." Meg slowly got to her feet, keeping the warm blanket around her shoulders. "And the hypothermia?"

"You should be fine in a few hours."

"Great, thank you..." Margaret tucked a red strand of hair behind her ear, looking down at her high tops with a tired expression. She was never great with small talk. Ever since Meg was diagnosed with narcolepsy, she didn't have many friends. Her team members... they were becoming more than just acquaintances or comrades.

"Are you okay? You did take a pretty good beating." She said after the awkward pause, fixing her gaze back up at the billionaire. Briefly, she glanced down at where the guard had beaten him- across the chest and rib area. Were the bruises still there? Were they still bad?

"Just a few bruises and broken ribs... Gideon's almost done with those." Ray said, "That joke was still worth it.... I wonder if I invented 'your momma jokes'. That would be so cool."

"No... I believe even Shakespeare was making those jokes in his works." Meg shrugged with a small smile, "But that was a good joke, Ray. Though... I was worried they wouldn't stop hurting you."

"You were worried?"

"I mean, despite the hypothermia and electric baton... yeah. I was worried."

Ray smiled through his busted lip, his features warming up with the grin. Meg always thought he had a charming smile, even with bruises.

"Well, I'm okay now, Meg. We both are. And to tell you the truth... I was worried about you too."

"Really?" Meg asked, quirking a brow.

"From our cell... we heard you- you know- screaming." Ray looked down at his hands, as if they were suddenly the most interesting thing to look at in the room. The memory of the white-hot iron being pressed to her skin gave Meg chills, her healing burns throbbed with each thought.

"Sorry." Meg apologized, her cheeks growing pink. She didn't think if anyone else- like the whole Gulag- would hear her screams at the time. It was all she could do not to... but the pain was too much for her.

"You don't need to apologize."

"I feel like I do, though-"

"Meg, you don't have to." Ray put a hand up, "It wasn't your fault."

Glancing down at her high tops once more, the red head sighed. She knew she shouldn't apologize... it really wasn't her fault. However, there was a tugging feeling in her chest that made her feel obligated to. Back in 2016, Meg apologized a lot for her narcolepsy and black outs- mostly because people have expected her to for any mild inconvenience her condition has caused other people.