So you wake up in your bed (me, mine) and you realize that the villain has infiltrated your home (tucked me into bed after too much bourbon) and brought along the child he created against the mother's will (that I wanted to live with me to start with), what do you (me) do?

I was working out that fucking problem as - and it truly pains me to admit this - the villain himself took care of me.

After he was certain I wasn't going to try to get up and out of the bed on my own again - and even with the smell of my spectacular vomit comet clinging to his boots and maybe a little spot on his cape - he went in search of something to clean the mess up. He called in a Vought housekeeper (you didn't actually think that he was going to clean that shit up on his own, did you?) who might have also brought him a change of - what precisely do you call that get up he's wearing?

Once the room and the mighty savior was clean and fresh - did he shower? His hair was slightly damp when he came back after the housekeeper was finished. He had a tray brought up - so housekeeper and cook - great. On it was a selection of everything that could work on a weak stomach after a hangover, including water and pain meds. A part of me wanted to push the tray off the bed, but since the housekeeper hadn't made a peep or made eye contact with me during the entire time she was dealing with my stomach contents, I didn't want a return visit.

"It's not drugged or poisoned," he was amused as I stared at the tray looking for something I could deem safe. "Why would I do that, Veronica? I don't want to harm you -"

The snort slipped out without me thinking about it. "You do know that I've seen videos of you and Stormfront, right?" But he was right, for now he didn't want to kill me, so I started with the greasiest thing on the tray and was extra thankful to the cook who put ice cold Coke on this damn thing too. I wish I could say I didn't make a single sound that would show how good it felt to have something in my stomach to soak up whatever alcohol was still swishing around - even after a huge amount had vacated the premises - but from the look he shot me, I can't lie.

He waited while I ate enough to make me feel somewhat less disgusting, and waited a little longer while I finished up the Coke and took the bottle of water from the tray before I slid it away from me.

"Done?" Nodding, now that my brain wasn't throbbing inside my skull, he called for someone - and sure enough another Vought financed minion stepped in to remove it. "There, isn't that better?" he asked as I settled myself against my headboard and smoothed the duvet that covered my lap. When I didn't answer him, he sighed and shook his head, but his lips were still curled in the supe version of a politician up for election smile. "You're stubborn," it came out as amused as he'd been when I imagined him trying to poison me with breakfast. "This won't work if you won't communicate, Veronica." Are you fucking -

"What precisely would you like to discuss?" Hoping that I looked calmer than I felt, but knowing that looks didn't fucking matter with Mr. Super Hearing - my heart was beating like hummingbird wings, and not in the usual way it would take on that pace while in this room. "Should we talk about how you kidnapped Ryan -"

"Now, now," he waved a finger at me as if I were being naughty. "You and I both know that I didn't kidnap him - he ran away after your ex -" I opened my mouth to correct him, but I wasn't sure what the fuck Billy was at this point, so he ignored me and continued. "Blamed him for killing his mother." Becca, it was always Becca, wasn't it? "And I think both you and I know that you don't think that was something forgivable to say to a child who tragically lost their mother -"

I started to speak, but then realized that he'd been listening and watching for a VERY long time - because that was something Billy and I had gone round and round about once I realized that Ryan had inhibitor chips inside of him. Narrowing my eyes, I had to hold back the rush of rage - I would not give him whatever reaction he expected, I wouldn't. "Using my own words against me?" I had to stop and think about this from a professional standpoint. While Homelander tried to explain himself, I half listened, instead I considered what precisely he was trying to do.

And that's when I made a choice that I hoped like fuck wouldn't get me killed, or anyone I cared for hurt - If Homelander wanted to play house with me, then I would - if only to figure out exactly what the game plan for him was and just how to stop him from making it a reality. And as a bonus, I could make sure Ryan was safe.

First on my list of ways to play nice with Homelander - let him help me, even if I would rather take a knife and cut away any part of me I let him touch, I have to give him this much. And I know it's working when he rushes over after I let him tell me all the reasons I was right when I fought Billy over Ryan and his powers - which I was for the record - and I ask him if he can help me up so I can go to the bathroom.

"Here," and his hands, which he's removed his gloves from (awesome, skin on skin contact, YAY), reach for mine and surprisingly gently pull me to my feet. "If you stumble, I'm right here," and I have to bite back a retort. Nice, remember?

"Thank you," hushed, and slightly breathy, but I can't lay it on too thick - he's an asshole and I wouldn't trust him with a rock I pull out of my shoe, but he's not completely stupid or naive - a fine line, like the one I'm walking with this fucking plan.

He hovers when I cross over into the master bath - "Are you -" sweet God above, do NOT think about how he clearly wants to stay and "help" further, that'll ruin whatever shred of - I let him know that I'll call for him should I need any aid, and he raises both hands and steps back to let me close the door in his face. Thank god.

I took a few beats to do the necessary - I had to hold it for so long thanks to my hungover ass not being capable of being vertical without help - then I decided to take a shower. I was still in stale ass work clothes and I felt grungy from - well every damn thing that had happened from the moment Billy walked away to this moment. Luckily the way the bathroom was designed, I could actually access my closet without having to deal with my new roomie. Ugh, one thing at a time, Veronica. Ronnie. Shit, was I dealing with split personalities?

Grabbing a new outfit from underwear to some soft sweats since I was spending the day at home - I double checked the bathroom locks, both the one that led to the bedroom and the one that was on the closet entrance and then, satisfied that I was as alone as I could be, I turned on the hot water and waited for the shower to get steamy and comfortable.

It wasn't until I'd finished washing my hair and upper body and was bent over to work my way down that I realized how fucking useless bothering with locking anything - after all, the asshole on the other side could just fucking see through it.

And I was more than certain that he'd used that power more than once to see precisely what I was doing now, and more with Billy, so I could freak out and run or I could just get on with the shower and let the fucking cringe factor go. Honestly, I was fucking exhausted of being on edge, so I finished my shower like I had every other time I showered - paying close attention to the areas that needed it and working to get rid of the kinks from passing out and from throwing up.

Wrapped in a towel, another one twisted into a turban to keep my wet hair away from my face, while I did the minimal beauty regime that kept me from being oily or dry faced I could swear I heard voices outside the door - Ryan, I thought or one of the minions come to ask Homelander for - it didn't matter. Brushing my teeth and then running a comb through my hair with a hearty thank you to the person who invented a conditioner that let me do it without ripping any out from the tangles that grew during my unconsciousness.

Dressed, fresh and feeling marginally more human, I could hear the conversation still going on out in the bedroom and wondered if I should bother going out - but this was my damn house, so why should I hide in the bathroom?

Unlocking the door, I opened it just as the voices cut off and found - only the spangled ass in the cape. He was turning away from the full length mirror that was propped up against the wall - a design that I wanted so I could move it (with help) wherever I wanted it - and I was more curious than worried. Had he been talking to himself? And answering himself as well? Mentally going through the DSM as he studied me, I was trying to pick from the catalog of what I'd already come to know about the supe in front of me, with the nuggets I was picking up from the current visits. And I'll admit it, I was intrigued - from a purely professional standpoint.

"I thought I heard voices," looking around, in case Ryan was plopped down on one of the available places to plop, but nope - alone.

"Ah, yes," my gaze went back to him and he looked unconcerned, or at least he was trying to - there was a tightness in his neck, a thick vein popping up where it wouldn't if he was completely at ease. "A few questions popped up while you were -" he gestured toward the bathroom that I was still standing in front of. "I had to -" another wave of his hand as if I'd simply heard him offering orders to the minions that he'd brought along for this weird farce.

Nodding, since this wasn't precisely a hill I wanted to climb, "OK," his tension started to relax, his neck wasn't nearly as tight and the vein was slowly diminishing from view. "Should we go check on Ryan?"

"Of course," giving a theatrical wave of his arm as if to tell me to lead the way, I started to walk past him to the bedroom doorway. "I hope you know -" he was coming up behind me and I had to fight against every natural instinct that screamed inside of me to turn around - face an enemy, don't give them the access to a sneak attack. "Bringing Ryan here was the only option I considered," the way he said it, I nearly smacked down that natural instinct to shit, but managed to hold steady. "Hearing how adamantly you argued for taking him away from wherever they were keeping him -" great, yeah, remind me of all the times you stalked me, "and how angry you were about those chips he was coerced into having implanted," maternal instinct would be my undoing, I guess. "It helped me know just how right you are for -" Nope, my ears need to fail me now.

I kept walking, using the sounds of television to pull me into the right direction, and ended up in the upstairs room that was supposed to be used as a family room - and seeing Ryan seated on the overstuffed sofa, huge amounts of Legos and Lego paraphernalia covering the huge block of a coffee table, and the television showing a movie that I was shocked to see was one that his mother would have approved on him viewing I had a flash of how much I had wanted this for him. This is what I'd fought so hard for Billy to see he needed - comfort, safety, security - that I almost forgot that Homelander was near me.

"He looks happy doesn't he?" Ryan's face practically lit up like a Christmas tree when he caught sight of me. And then his arms were wrapped around my middle and his face was pressed into my chest and I knew I was screwed -

Homelander managed to figure out, with a huge dose of help from all his fucking peeping, precisely what my weakness was and instead of harming or maiming the source of it - he delivered that weakness right to me and dropped it into my arms. Because as Ryan murmured about how happy he was that I wanted him - that I wanted to still be around him - I knew that I'd be as stupid as Becca had been and I'd dance with the devil in the pale moonlight just to keep him safe, to keep him happy.

And as Homelander came around so he could face me, so he could study how perfectly he managed the impossible - I knew he'd won – because I didn't pull away when he enveloped both of us into an embrace, and I didn't flinch when his lips touched my ear. I didn't even scream when he whispered that he'd finally found what he wanted most of all - and regardless of all the bullshit that was a main ingredient in this entire mess - he might just fucking be right.