I’ve been thinking about this since the finale, and I had to write the thing. Especially since Lucy does have a The Boys verse, and even more so now that I have a Black Noir muse.
The first time Lucy had seen him in person she was a teenager. Her mother had been hired by Vought to play piano at one of their charity galas, and they’d invited Lucy to come with her. She and her mother spent weeks sewing a gown for Lucy to wear. The silver fabric shimmered like a diamond and the corseted top made her feel like an adult, while sheer sleeves ran down her arms. She felt regal, and beautiful. Her cascade of brown curls were pinned up, and her mother did her makeup for her.
While her mother played piano, Lucy got to mingle around the room. She tried not to come off out of place, wanting to look as if she belonged there. She was polite and friendly, and did her best not to overstep any boundaries among the company’s big wigs. After the dinner part of the event, Dharma was able to take a break from the piano to eat with the other vendors that were working. That’s when Lucy noticed him.
He stuck out amongst all of the evening wear, dressed head to toe in his combat gear. Of course Lucy knew who he was, how couldn’t she? His face...or mask, was everywhere. She was surprised when he sat at the piano her mother had just vacated, and began to play. Lucy was entranced as the delicate notes filled the room. She would’ve never guessed that such an imposing figure would have such gentleness.
He was finished before Dharma returned, and Lucy was surprised once more to find him standing in a corner by himself, presumably watching the crowd. “You’re not one for fancy parties either, huh?” She waited, no response. She didn’t expect one. “You play wonderfully,” she complimented him. He turned towards her. She stiffened slightly, trying not to show anything other than friendliness. She assumed he was staring at her through the mask. He gave her a small nod and walked away. Lucy didn’t see him again the rest of the night, but she assumed he was there, in the shadows.
The years that followed, it often felt as if someone was following her or watching her. Especially at her mother’s funeral. She stood there by the grave, listening to the priest as the coffin was lowered. It felt as if eyes bore into her back. That night, when she returned home, she found the bouquet of handpicked wildflowers tied together with string and a handwritten card: My condolences, Earving.
Earving? she questioned, uncertain of who that could be. It was sweet though, and she smiled for what seemed like the first time since her mother had grown ill. She took the flowers inside and gave them water.
When she couldn’t get a loan to start her shop, the money she needed, in cash, was delivered to her unexpectedly in a manila envelope. A scrap of sketch paper had a doodle of her surrounded by flowers and little birds and a single word at the bottom: Earving.
When she seen him in person the second time, enough time had passed that she would’ve thought that what had been a core memory for her, would’ve just been a fleeting moment for him. Yet there he was. She’d went outside into the back alley to throw out the trash before she closed up her shop and found him lying on the ground. He’d been wounded bad, and Lucy wasn’t entirely sure if he’d be okay. But she knew she couldn’t leave him out here, not like this. “Earving?” she asked. His head turned, just enough to look at her, and she knew. “Come on, lets get you inside,” she did her best to get her arms around him and help him up. No matter how strong she was, her small body wouldn’t have been big enough to support him though. Fortunately, he seemed capable of walking and pushed himself up off the ground.
Lucy ushered him into the back of the shop and urged him to sit on a couch in her office. “I’ll be right back,” she hurried into the bathroom and came back with a first aid kit. “What happened to you?” she asked, as she looked at the wound in his stomach, though she knew he wasn’t likely to answer. “You’ll have to take this off so I can clean your wound and wrap it up properly,” she told him.
He stared at her for a moment. Lucy could only assume he was debating whether or not to do as she suggested. “If you don’t want to, I can do my best to clean it anyways, it just won’t be as good.” As soon as the words left her mouth, he’d already begun to remove his gear and pulled the shirt off, yet his mask remained. Lucy was careful as she cleaned the wound, her face twisting as she seen just how bad it was. He probably needed stitches, and Lucy didn’t have a needle or thread in the shop. She took out the roll of gauze and began wrapping it around him, making sure it was secure.
“Who did this to you?” she muttered as she worked, more to herself than to him. He was the Silent Knight, the last thing she expected was a response. He pointed to a picture Lucy had framed on the wall, a picture of her mom standing outside her childhood home. Lucy’s brow furrowed in confusion for a moment, then it occurred to her: the house...home... “Homelander?” she asked, astonished. Black Noir nodded slightly. “Oh no,” she breathed. With everything Starlight had been saying about ‘The World’s Greatest Superhero’ and her own twisted visions, Noir confirmed her fear. Carefully, Lucy hugged him, patting his shoulder and attempting to comfort him in the way her mother would her after a nightmare. “Everything is going to be okay,” Lucy whispered, though she didn’t have the confidence to back up her words.
