The tragic truth about finding a career path that you feel incredibly suited for and one that you actually enjoy participating in meant that you were more than likely to accumulate more fucking leave than you could ever decide to use during your employment. Sad, but true, and what better reason to use some of it than because you were given a child to take care of - and so you don't have to contact the non-human element of said child's creation that you knew for certain was circling the skies or sitting in a fucking tree nearby watching your every move.

I really hate that I even bothered with the "yous" up there, when it is so obviously about me that no one would even be tempted to believe it was about any other sad sack of a human - or nearly non-human - than me. Fucking shit.

Rather than focus on how truly fucked my entire life and world might be, I prefer to focus on -

"I'm pretty sure that I didn't do it right -" holding up the part of Ryan's project he had given me to work on, I looked up to see his smile growing and a little shake of his head. "See, I knew I screwed it up," setting it down, I pulled myself from the floor and onto the sofa.

"You didn't," he was showing me what he meant as he worked on his own piece. "It just doesn't look right to you because Legos make everything blocky, and you're used to seeing everything -" he squinted as he searched his vocabulary for how the regular normal world looked to squares like me - see what I did there?

"Rounded?" I couldn't make him struggle, I just couldn't. "Maybe you're right, but I do think we need a break." I needed a break, from blocks and squares and the thoughts ping ponging in my fucking brain to the point that I could barely think beyond just how fucking terrible my future looked. "What do you want for dinner tonight?"

Every single night I'd let Ryan choose dinner. Not because I wanted him to like me, he seemed incapable of not liking me, but because I couldn't stand making even that simple decision. Not when I had all the other bullshit decisions to make - do I tell Billy and Joe just precisely what really happened when I nearly died, do I watch while Billy and Joe take out whatever frustration they might end up with (and let's be honest they already have a shit ton of irritation toward the source of this mess), or do I go with the flow and just fucking realize that there's a caped dickhead who stole everything from me and if I do choose either of my other options (or any other ones that steal into my brain when I least expect them) watch as Ryan is left to the wilds of Vought, the Seven, and his own father? So I hope anyone could understand why "sandwiches or burgers" isn't really one I want to deal with.

So every evening, in the kitchen we'd eat whatever Ryan chose and that I made - because I like to cook and I wanted no, I craved normalcy, even if none of this was normal.

And then we'd watch television or he'd try to teach me how to play his video games and then before he would go to bed, he'd clutch me around the middle and I'd be reminded of why I chose this - at least this part of my life was a choice, even if it was hand delivered by Satan's biggest asshole.

I knew that eventually someone for work would either call or show up - and I knew it would be at least one of the men from my romantic past. I did not think they would show up together, like some sort of truly fucked up intervention, but I was thankful that Ryan was happily upstairs with his headphones on listening to some "inspirational" music while he built more of his set.

I stepped out on the front porch, not because I thought Ryan wouldn't be able to hear us speaking, but so I could separate church from state so to speak.

"Ronnie," my eyes flashed to Billy's face, and he looked uncomfortable for a beat, but my silence let him continue. "Heard you took time off and got worried."

My head tilted at his announcement of worry, considering he hadn't exactly cleared his little expedition to unfreeze a fucking nightmare. "As you can see, I'm -"

"Do not say that you're fine," Joe, of course Joe would call me on any bullshit he thought he sensed. Letting my focus shift, I felt a flip of pain at the realization that whatever he wanted or felt was going to leave if he knew - really knew just how unfine I was. "The Veronica Taylor I know -"

"Yeah, maybe she doesn't live here anymore," it sounded bleak, even to me, but I supposed he - no they - deserved the truth. "Maybe she's been gone for a long time."

I turned to go back inside, but a hand on my shoulder stopped me and I refused to look back to see who it belonged to. "Doc," ah, Billy's then. "Come on, tell us what brought this on -"

Maybe I could give them enough - just enough breadcrumbs that they could follow them and know, that they could understand why - "Almost dying and then trying to act like nothing changed -" I shook my head, still not turning around. "Everything changed." And then I left them both on the porch and went inside.

Ryan sensed that something was different - especially when I didn't ask him what he wanted for dinner and chose to give into temptation and just nuke two boxes of Hot Pockets. He didn't complain, but I knew he was concerned. It was as clear as if he had a thought bubble over his head screaming "please don't be as fucked up as the other adults in my life".

So I forced myself to go back to our regularly scheduled program - television, video games, huge fucking hugs, and then bed.

Well, Ryan went to bed, I went to my office - it was time to at least pretend I still liked my job.

Sure enough, there were a huge chunk of emails from Billy, the team, and Joe - there were even a few from Mallory. Clicking through each, I could have rolled my eyes at the nearly identical words of concern - and I might have if the office wasn't clearly so fucking dusty that it was making my eyes water.

Ignoring Billy and Joe's, since they had their fears squashed, I gave simple and calming answers to the others - then I moved on to the surveillance videos I was still being sent and stopped at one that took place inside the headquarters that I used to have an office in, rather than the office I was supposed to be head of - watching as Joe and Billy sat and drank coffee liberally laced with hooch and zoomed in to see if I could make out what they were saying.

I was still trying to work through what I'd pieced together from my casual viewing of my two exes having a little sit down together - and no, I don't want any input about how I was acting like a certain caped motherfucker - as I sat in bubbles up to my chin in the too big for one person bathtub.

What precisely could be worse than Joe trying to remind Billy about how dangerous all supes were and how we'd all end up in cages or some other truly fucking dangerous nuggets of horrible ideas? Oh I know, how about my stupid ass giving them breadcrumbs to find MORE reasons to want to fucking murder supes?

Fucking fuck. I wasn't sure the hot water was helping to soothe any part of my aching being, but I also wasn't sure what the fuck I could try to help.

And then, like the worst fucking self help aid to ever sprout wings and fly into my life, Homelander was squatting next to my fucking tub and offering his -

"I don't recall calling for you," was all that I could manage to snap, after all he was the literal cause of ALL of this. "And I wouldn't fucking hold your breath for me to actually call for you any fucking time soon."

He sighed, long and suffering, but didn't leave. "Tell me what's wrong, don't hold back and I mean nothing back." And when I didn't jump to the chatting, he tacked on the word that was so rare from his lips, yet he managed to give me it twice. "Please."

Letting out my own sigh, I stood up, shocking him since he'd only gotten to see me this way through walls, but fuck that. Reaching for a towel and taking great pleasure in dripping bubbly water on his head where he was still crouched, I used my toe to hit the button that would release the water, and stepped out onto the rug as I wrapped the towel around me.

"You want me to tell you everything that I'm dealing with and hold nothing back?" He looked up from his spot beside the bathtub. "Fine, let's chat."