a living saint

"No."

Becca says it more firmly than she ever has before, and never has she been more desperate for him to actually acknowledge it- to understand it and actually heed it.

"I already told you. He needs his father, not Homelander. I'm not letting you d-" The word gets caught in her throat and she opts to shake her head once more. "I'm not letting him go through that. I'm not letting him live with the guilt of knowing he trained and couldn't save one of the people he loves."

Her arms tighten over her chest, a fraction (albeit shrinking as of late) of her loathes that she's worried about his life, but she can't help it. It's also easier to justify that it's for Ryan's sake,.

Even if she wipes her eyes from the tears that begin to slip past her eyelids, she pretends it's for the worry of her child and not the man who both destroyed her life and gave her the best thing that'd ever happened in it within the same moment.

The confusion Homelander feels is stark, leaving him raw and vulnerable the more that Becca speaks to him. He smells the salt in her tears and wonders, briefly, if those tears could possibly be for him.

But, remembering Becca's hatred, he decides not to consider it.

His tongue wets his lips, his shoulders rising gently with the breath he takes as he stands there contemplating it. If Becca's case is "I don't want Ryan to be depressed mourning you", then he can't very well ignore it, can he?

So, sighing (and pretending he doesn't hear Edgar and Madelyn in his head, reminding him over and over that he doesn't have to be anything but the hero Vought made him to be), he uncurls his arms from behind him and folds them atop the bridge railing. Homelander leans in, looking at the drop below, and pulls his lips over his teeth with another pull of air.

"Make me a secret identity," he says. "Someone with... plain clothes, and hobbies, and whatever the fuck it is you people need to be people.

"What happens to you?"

The question leaves her before she can even stop and think about what her asking it entails. What he's done isn't excused by any means, but what she's learned about him these past weeks about him makes it a bit easier to... well, view as a person again.

And a fucked up one at that.

She clears her throat and looks down, gnawing on her lower lip as she shakes her head.

"Becca," Homelander says, chuckling, "you probably know best that with Vought gone, so am I."

Something tugs at his chest, though, thinking about Ryan's disappointment. Thinking about Ryan not wanting to leave him. Becca in all her loathing would leave him behind without a doubt, but their son's too pure for something like that. And the thought of his sorrow (because, Christ, loss hurts like a bitch no matter what he does) has the backs of Homelander's eyes going hot for just a moment.

"I don't have a secret identity, and there's nowhere you two could go if I came with you. Someone'd recognise me, I guarantee it.

"I'm Vought's most prized investment. They, uh-- they wouldn't just let me escape. Even if I burned every facility they have to the ground, their enemies would want me. It's a whole messy-- ugh." He makes a face. "And, yeah, maybe it'll hurt Ryan, but..." Homelander sniffs, then clears his throat.

"Are you actually? Happy with it?

"You struggled to share that you liked adventure books, Homelander. You couldn't name a song you like. I heard you tell Ryan about your first time in a crowd."

She turns to put the cigarette out against the railing of the bridge before moving to the opposite side to be near the father of her child. Becca looks up at him, the concern for their child's well being clear as day.

"I'm not saying this to be argumentative, I'm saying this because what if we're not careful? What if we accidentally give Vought what they want? They might be waiting for blackmail on Ryan, but they're adaptable."

Soft sigh huffing through her nostrils she shakes her head.

"I'll kill everyone that comes," Homelander says plainly, coldly, matter-of-fact like he's rattling off about the weather, "if they ever try taking our boy away."

Turning enough to look down at Becca where she stands beside him, he presses his lips together.

"...and by then you'll both be skilled enough to escape while I do it."

His fists clench behind him, trembling the slightest bit. Homelander turns away again, looking sightlessly through the trees.

Envy sighs, crossing her arms. She hates how much she has to look up at Homelander and she especially hates how much she has to listen to him. Her career depended on what Homelander and Vought thinks about her right now. Fuck Gideon for ever considering it.

“Choose my battles.” Envy mumbles with a shake of her head. “Anything else Mr. Homelander?” 

"Yes, actually," Homelander says, his smile as pleasant as ever.

"Drop the attitude. You don't have nearly enough leverage to be this pissy over basic decorum.

"You can badmouth us on your little Twitter or your little Instagram whenever you leave, but at an event supporting the Seven, not showing us respect is just immature."

He shakes his head, sighing. "I really did expect more. Wasn't the Clash at Demonhead at the top not too long ago? Kind of made me think you'd be a professional, Envy Adams.

"I'd never let him think it was his fault, whatever the accident might have been," Becca states matter-of-factly.

No matter what Ryan might do, she knows in her heart that it would never be malicious. If someone gets hurt because of his powers, it's because it's out of his control or he was protecting someone. He'd never hurt someone intentionally.

Regardless, Becca knows full well that- as much as it pains her to admit- he's right. Had Vought ever changed their minds, best case scenario he'd be locked away from her until he gets a grip on them.

Worst case scenario, she's standing right in front of.

Becca swallows thickly as she does her best to keep her worry for her son's well-being begins to suffocate her.

"You make sure Vought has nothing to hold over Ryan's head. Including keeping himself under their control.

"They're not counting on him being skilled. Or on him being able to fly away with you one day. They're waiting for him to explode-- and, no offence, for you to be collateral damage-- and then they're going to swoop in and turn him into the next me."

Homelander shakes his head, turning back to look over the bridge.

"I'm exactly who I'm supposed to be," he says, his tone even and practised like he's got cameras on his face. "I'm happy with it.

Becca's silent right up until they get to the bridge on the outskirts of their makeshift town before she gets out.

"Look, I'm sorry about having to do this, but ever since you came here, I've noticed Vought's surveillance has skyrocketed. Do you honestly think our fake neighbors had a nightly walking routine?" she begins as she lights a cigarette between her lips with an apologetic glint in her eyes. The man objected so sincerely against being around smoke, but she knows she has to have a cigarette burnt to the end for them to buy it. "You know full well there are cameras in there. For all I know, there's audio, too."

She lets out a soft sigh and pulls the stick out with two fingers on one hand and rubs her temple with the other hand.

"Oh," Homelander says, standing with his gloved hands folded dutifully behind him, "I definitely believe they want a nice, superpowered Ryan under their heel.

"But that's how they get you, Becca. They catch you when you're out of control, promise they'll make it better, and..." He turns away, his profile lit by what little moonlight manages to makes its way to this shadowy place.

"And then they make you believe they know what's best. That their methods will save you. That you aren't good enough or smart enough to figure things out on your own, and that without them, well" -- one hand lifts, mimicking an explosion -- "you're dead.

"I don't want our son to learn like that. He has to learn how to use them before his powers ruin something, or to at least be able to explore things without it being a fucking life or death situation. Otherwise he'll just be, you know" -- he grimaces -- "afraid of them. And if you think I'm bad, a terrified Supe is worse.

(But if the brunette was honest with herself, there was a significant personal enjoyment, too - who wouldn't love to be remembered by one of the most important figures of the country as an individual and not just another random saved victim?)

"Well, I'm glad you called. I'm hoping you will feel the same by the time we hang up," the woman said with a smile, but the pleasant tone was evident even if the supe couldn't see her face on the other side of the line. Melissa didn't know what had transpired at Vought and what sort of information was shared, but it wasn't important - whether or not Homelander was interested in something, he was way above the paygrade of any of her girls.

This was too big of a catch - something she had to reel in herself.

And even if there was a golden business opportunity, it was not yet the time to get there - Homelander could have anyone he wished in the country, after all; he wouldn't call for something as easy as paid sex when so many would be throwing themselves at his feet for free. The supe knew that - Melissa did too, and besides, she had meant it; as fortunate as she had been to meet him, circumstances surrounding the incident had been indeed very serious.

Regardless of his apparent selflessness, there was a debt to be settled in her view. It wouldn't hurt if it ended up being an opening for more, of course.

"Would it change anything if I said it was important to me to see that you are properly rewarded? I admire your kindness, but I am also a firm believer in showing gratitude where it is due," Melissa shifted her angle although it was of no consequence for the man; she took a moment to place herself on the horizontal, free hand reaching for a strand of hair and playing with it while pondering over her next words carefully.

"In case it does, I did have a suggestion in mind - if I may be so bold," a chuckle followed, but only because Melissa knew she was already pushing some lines there by default, "I'm sure a hero like yourself has access to everyone and everything - but even Homelander probably has things he hasn't yet done. Maybe something trivial like getting ice cream without being recognized - I'm positive there is an experience you feel you might be lacking."

Melissa's smile widened as the fingers twirling the hair paused - her heart was thrumming rapidly in her chest, but it was a welcome thing: adrenalin, the thrill of the chase, the chance to impress herself as a remarkable memory just as he had done for her.

On the bright side, at least she doesn't offer sex outright. Somehow he'd figured she might've just gone the professional route with it, and he's pleased (and a little curious) to be proven wrong.

"'A little dream of mine', huh..." he echoes when Melissa finally finishes with her lengthy spiel. Homelander contemplates just how much she'd talk his ear off if they met up again, and then contemplates whether his curiosity is enough to carry him that far.

"Hm..."

The thing about being Vought's perfect creation is that all his dreams belong to them. Everything he's ever wanted are things they've told him he should want-- everything he's ever dreamed of, similarly, fall under that same umbrella. Any dreams he might've had that were his own faded away ages ago, and if Melissa were truly talking to him, Homelander wouldn't have an answer.

Fortunately, it's the hero she wants. And Homelander thinks a proper hero would absolutely check up on the people he saves.

Ice cream, she'd said. This, too, is better than nothing.

"I might take you up on that normal day for ice cream."

He chuckles.

"That'd be a second treat for you, though, I bet-- if that's what we end up doing, you'd get a glimpse at my secret identity."

(Not that he really has one.)

As much as she wants to believe training of any kind would be good for Ryan, she knows that there has got to be some sort of reason Vought hadn't begun doing it on their own.

She also knows if she questions Vought, they'll hear it.

What a fucking time to be alive where Homelander is the one she even remotely trusts.

"Hey, I need to take a smoke. Did you want to come with me? We can figure out the semantics of Ryan's training. You know, where to put it on his schedule and stuff."

Without waiting for his response, she gets up to grab her pack of cigarettes, lighter, and keys.

Homelander crinkles his nose. "Ugh. Smoke? No, thank you..."

Becca's already stood up by then, though, and when a short "hey" doesn't get her to turn back, he frowns and gets to his feet, snatching his gloves off the table and shutting the laptop before following her out the door.

Hearing the car unlock is bizarre. And when his question of "do you really expect me to go in there" is met with a hard stare, he grumbles and does as told, slipping into the passenger seat.

He's never really sat in a car before, at least not since his debut as Vought's greatest hero. The only times he'd ever been in a vehicle had been to transport him from the lab and back, and despite himself Homelander ends up fidgeting. The closed space, he decides, is suffocating.

"How far do you have to go to smoke a fucking cigarette?" he asks, looking behind him as the house gets smaller and smaller.

Upon his initial response, Becca lets out a defeated sigh and tenses as gets ready to argue with Homelander. Though, before she can utter a word, he's already acknowledging the exact points she's going to bring up and then some.

She pulls her lips between her teeth before relaxing once more.

"Yeah, that is what matters. Ryan is the only thing that matters." She raises a hand and wipes it down her face before moving her arms over her chest once more. If there's a time to bring up one of the larger elephants in the room, she knows now's as good a time as any.

"Look, I know you're not exactly thrilled he's being raised in a Vought facility. Trust me, it's not exactly optimal for me, either. A lot of things about any of this aren't, actually, but it's all for Ryan. It always has been. The books he reads, the movies we watch, even eating bran flakes- those are things he enjoys. Do you honestly think I'd keep the kid from Cap'n Crunch? That's my favorite cereal."

Becca moves to reclaim her seat once more, an almost kind yet warning glint in her eyes as she meets Homelander's once more.

Maybe, if Ryan hadn't come out after trying to fly feeling so upset, Homelander would have a real case. The scolding tone in Becca's words makes some fight-or-flight reaction rise in him, and he's not entirely sure where it even comes from.

But hearing his son say he hates him had been one of the worst moments in Homelander's life, and if his constant re-evaluation of it hadn't been enough, Becca's verbal reminder sobers him greatly.

And he says, without hesitation, "All right.

"But, Becca..." He turns to look at her properly now, hands on his lap in some form of politeness. "When his powers start coming out like they did today, I won't ignore them.

"Sure, I won't try forcing them out of him" -- a deep breath -- "but he's gonna have to learn how to control these things eventually. And I do not want any doctors, or any scientists, or any other Vought fucking vermin touching our son for that.

It's impossible to keep the expression of sheer shock from her features as she processes the question several times over in her head.

Did he really just ask permission? Since when does he ask permission?

"Are you kidding me? Of course I won't be okay with it," Homelander scoffs, taking a breath that lifts his chest before exhaling slowly through rounded lips. "But I... won't be mad, either.

"All my time growing up, all anyone ever did was make me do things I didn't want to." And, remembering the way Ryan had looked at him after the whole roof debacle once more, Homelander never wants to see that look of hatred on his face ever again.

The book is carefully placed on the table, just by Becca's laptop.

"I need to be a better dad than that. For Ryan. And I will be" -- one hand comes up, pointer finger wagging lightly all the while -- "because I don't...

While she knows she'll never be able to stop hating completely for what he's done to her, Becca isn't so inhuman that she can't feel sorrow for him. Getting to see this side of him, she realizes that the man is far from the super human Vought sells him as. That he's someone is so loyal to a brand that he doesn't even know who he is outside of the cape.

It's heartbreaking to hear him talk about reading as a hobby like it's something meant for toddlers.

Wetting her lips as she comes back to the conversation mentally, Becca grins sympathetically at Homelander and shakes her head.

"He's creative," Homelander says proudly, drumming his fingers gently over the cover of the book. "That's good. Fun hobby for a kid.

"I wish he--"

That hand curls into a gentle fist, Homelander's lips press together, and after some contemplation, he shakes his head. If he forced Ryan to read for him, then it might end up like the roof situation. Hearing his son say he hates him once is bad enough.

A surprised sound lodges itself in Becca's throat as she hears a response, a real response, come from Homelander. She's not entirely certain if it's from the shock that he had actually shared this with her or if the realization that something as innocent as liking adventure books has been a shameful secret. Regardless, the why doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that there's a piece of John in him.

A smile begins to break out over her lips as she gives a reassuring squeeze to his knee before she holds a finger up to let him know to wait one moment.

Just as quickly as she leaves does she returns with a book in hand.

There's a strange sense of rightness as Becca offers the book to him. Homelander's gaze lands upon it, and in immediate familiarity he's certain he's read it before.

A tentative smiles appears on his face as he takes the book in hand. "The fourth?"

He turns it over, fingers brushing the spine of the book, and exhales gently at the feel of the creases in them. His son likes to read adventure books, and he reads them over and over.

As Homelander opens it and lets his eyes skim over the first paragraphs of the first chapter, he's not sure why he's so overcome with emotion. But something about Ryan doing the same things he did as a boy, about him enjoying the same things, makes his hand tremble over the page before he respectfully shuts the book closed again.

"I'm glad he still gets to read at his age." Unused to sounding so soft, Homelander clears his throat. "That's, uh...

Becca looks at Homelander with a somber glint in her eyes as he questions having to find a song he likes.

"It's not-" she cuts herself off as she looks over his features. Has he ever looked so... human? Why is finding a song he likes what brings this out of him? What did Vought do to him?

What did she help Vought do to him?

"We don't have to, no. I just think it's important for Ryan that you, well, have even something that's your own to share with him. Even if Homelander was everything Vought presents him as, that's not something Ryan needs. Ryan needs a father, not a superhero."

As much as it terrifies her, even Becca can recognize he's in a vulnerable place, so she reaches her hand out to rest on his knee.

Homelander knows that Becca isn't stupid. He knows that everything he told her regarding his secret identity couldn't have fallen on deaf ears. So, sour as it is, the immediate scowl that forms on his lips is unavoidable (Edgar used to frown at him all the time, saying things about how "selfish he is for wanting to be John instead of what the country needs", and how "he needs to grow up and be a hero, not a whining baby").

But at the touch to his knee, he freezes, eyes flicking to Becca's face as she calls for John.

So he stops and really thinks about it-- of what fathers looked like in the pictures his tutors used to show him-- and recognises the fact that none of them had been in a super suit. But what's left of the boy that he was in the Bad Room? He's sure even the clothes he used to wear must have been burned to ashes. What is there to even share?

Homelander's head dips, his gaze on Becca's hand atop his knee while he sits there, lips pressed together and brows furrowing. A myriad of expressions flick through in the blink of an eye-- uncertainty, anger, fear, frustration. And then, in the end...

"I liked adventure books," he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. Homelander grits his teeth almost as soon as he admits it, but manages to add a hissed, "I wanted to be like Robinson Crusoe, Huckleberry Finn.

"I do not care actually. So long as I get to feed, then I am fine." He lost his humanity a century ago, so why start caring about others now? "As for the Joestars, I will deal with those ones later once whatever this is is all over. Knowing them, they will come after me."

Why the fuck did this idiot ask if he didn't care? God, everywhere he goes he's just surrounded by incompetence.

"Weeeeeell," he drawls, "it sounds like you've got it all handled, then.

After he receives the answer, he proceeds and curiously asks, "Have you never met one before? I know they're rare, but it almost seems fitting that you'd have crossed paths with one at some point.

"Sirens are unique. There can only be seven in existence at a time, each possessing a different power. Though, the way to identify one is the tattoos on their arms. They're... well, I suppose they're the supes of the Borderlands."

The concern in his eyes twinkle more as he meets Homelander's gaze once more. If only he had the time to have gone and suit up. Maybe he wouldn't have been hurt.

The displeasure he feels is written clear as day on his face. And it remains even when Katagawa asks after his well-being, considering Homelander clicks his tongue, glares, and says, "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

But then he realises, perhaps because of the look in Katagawa's eyes and the generally careful way he's been touching him, he meant it. And he'd asked not as a carefully constructed way to poke at his weakness, but because he'd been... concerned?

Homelander sighs.

It's strange, seeing this side of Homelander. It's more reminiscent of the man she had gotten to know while working with him. This was the man she had befriended and adored. Perhaps worst of all, it feels as genuine as it had the first time around.

And perhaps it is genuine.

But then how could he be capable of such heinous things? If it hadn't happened to her, she knows she wouldn't have believed he was capable of it.

It's only through these interactions for the sake of her son that she realizes just how little he's put together, just how much of himself is a lie he's told and tells himself, and she feels a twinge of sorrow in her heart.

"More or less, yeah!" Becca responds, small smile on her lips as she nods. "I'm sure if it's on when you're around, he's going to show you the steps until you get it down, too."

She draws in a deep breath and leans back in her own chair, crossing her arms over her chest as well and bringing one leg over her knee.

The affirmation that Ryan did, in fact, memorise all those moves with his little eight year old brain makes something bloom in Homelander's chest. Something warm and soft, like admiration for Ryan's ability to succeed but stronger, and while he thinks of the word "pride", he already knows it isn't pride like how Madelyn ever used the word.

I'm so proud of you, she always said, even if only moments later she'd cut him off from anything that mattered. Surely that isn't how pride works--

"Hm?"

He's pulled out of his thoughts at Becca's question, at which point he lifts his head and blinks.

"Oh, the... it was okay." He frowns slightly. "Soft? Uh, 'dreamy'? She had a voice like... fuck if I know, a cloud.

"But it's soft like Ryan is. Suits him." Homelander's arms cross over his chest. "I don't hate it."

A beat.