Chapter Text
Anastasia jumped at the sound of her loud alarm clock, her eyes foggy and heavy as she opened them. She gently rubbed her eyes, getting out of her bed. Today was important. Important to her students, most of all. Homelander was coming to her workplace for some sort of Vought event to celebrate Homelander’s birthday. She needed to get to the school early today to make a few finishing touches with the other teachers for the decoration.
She made a quick and lazy breakfast, toasting 2 pieces of bread and spreading butter on it. Enough to give her energy. The crunch of the bread filled her quiet apartment besides the hum of the AC. Anastasia finished up—brushing the crumbs off of her tank top, taking her pill organizer from the cabinet, taking a tab of Abilify and popping it into her mouth before taking a sip of water. She yawned, looking at the news on the TV, seeing Homelander’s interview at the premiere last week.
“Well, I am just a man who fell for the wrong woman. Uhm, but uh, out of crisis comes change. I spent the last year really slowing down and reconnecting with myself and I am very excited for everyone to meet the real me.”
Anastasia raised an eyebrow. It's been one year since people found out she was a Nazi, time flew by quickly. Ana didn’t really pay attention to superheroes, but that one was a jaw-dropper. She shook her head before turning it off to get ready.
30 minutes go by. Anastasia slipped on black tights, a long brown plaid skirt, then proceeded to button her fitted short sleeve black dress shirt. She combed out her dark black hair, then her bangs that she had impulsively cut the night before. “Yikes.” She murmured, not used to it. But it suited her. Anastasia grabbed her tote bag, slipping on her black Mary Janes, leaving her apartment and locking her door.
Anastasia’s life was normal. It had a routine, and she preferred it like that. Telling herself that the quiet life was for her, despite her past.
Ana arrived at Brooklyn Technical High School about fifteen minutes later. The building was massive—one of the largest public high schools in the country. She clocked in quickly, slipping into the flow of the morning routine. The hallways were already filled with decorations for the Homelander event. Posters, banners, and red-white-blue branding lined the walls in an almost rehearsed display of patriotism. She changed her pace when she settled her things at the faculty room, moving more rushed and focused. Anastasia made sure everything would go perfectly, fixing every little mistake she saw. On a ladder, she was putting up decorations, with the help of another teacher.
Finishing up everything, it was 9 AM, 30 minutes until Homelander arrived.
“Good morning, sir. Happy Birthday.” Ashley approached Homelander in the hallway, a plastered smile on her lips. “You have a very busy day! Fun.” She chuckled nervously, walking beside him, struggling to match his pace as she kept her eyes on the tablet in her hands. “Today, you have an event held at Brooklyn Technical High School, 9:30 AM. After that, your annual birthday save is at 4 PM, and your birthday bash at 7 PM.”
“Thank you,” he murmured. His voice was quieter than usual, less impatient. Ashley noticed his seemingly good mood, but didn’t comment. She only nodded once and quickly pulled out her phone, making a call. “It’s 9:01,” she said quickly, eyes flicking to her tablet. “We’ll be there by 9:15. The team’s already moving.” She didn’t bother adding the rest, he was flying, and everyone in the building knew it. Nobody needed reminding how fast he could make the schedule irrelevant if he chose to.
Homelander arrived at Brooklyn Technical High School exactly at 9:15. Ashley, the team, and security were still on his heels when he was already inside. He moved through the hallways with that familiar smile already in place. Students and teachers reacted immediately, a few students rushed forward, asking for photos. He obliged, pausing just long enough for flashes and shaky hands holding phones. “Thank you,” he said again and again, like it cost him nothing. As he finished another selfie, Ashley cut in quickly, voice tight with rehearsed control. “The meet-and-greet is still scheduled for later,” she reminded the crowd. A disappointed murmur rippled through the hallway—soft “awws.”
The gymnasium was full of rows of students, the teachers sitting in the front of the stage. The banners overhead were red, white, and blue, smiling Homelander faces printed on. Ashley stood off to the side with her tablet, already watching the clock. “Good morning, Brooklyn Technical High School!” Homelander’s voice carried easily, warm in a way that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Applause followed on cue. He spoke about responsibility. About choices. About staying “strong” in a world that needed heroes. The speech was rehearsed, scripted, and lacked soul. “You guys are the future. The real heroes.” Ana watched with a bored expression, legs crossed. She wasn’t impressed, but she didn’t think it was a bad speech. Sure, one of her 12th graders could write a more captivating speech. Still, she ignored it. Anastasia didn’t like to dwell.
Homelander stood at the center of the stage, hands clasped behind his back. "...and that's why making the right choices matters. Every decision you make today shapes who you'll become tomorrow." The audience listened attentively, others took photos, videos. After awhile, the speech ended, Ashley announced that Q&A would start in an hour, then began to list forbidden topics. Anastasia found herself in the faculty line for the meet-and-greet, a folded Homelander T-shirt tucked beneath her arm. The shirt wasn't hers, her nephew had practically begged her to bring it. “You're meeting Homelander. You have to get it signed!” She had tried explaining that she wasn't personally meeting him. She was supervising an event. Apparently, that distinction had not mattered to a ten-year-old.
Anastasia’s turn came, seeing Homelander up close for the first time. She stepped up, giving him a small smile. “Happy Birthday.” She greeted, placing the small shirt on the table. “Thank you, Ms…?” “Anastasia. But make it out to Austin, please.” Homelander nodded, “Your kid?” He asks, eyes on signing the shirt. “No, my nephew. I don’t have kids.” He signed the shirt with practiced ease. Then his eyes lifted from the fabric. For a moment, they settled on hers.
“I see.” His dead eyes looked up, boring into her brown ones. “Not a fan?” He asks, almost teasingly with a small grin. “I’m not really into…heroes. Is that offensive? I don’t mean it like that." Anastasia explained, not meaning to offend. Homelander chuckled, “No, just messing with you. Here.” He handed it back, signed with a little message for Austin. “Thank you. I hope you have a nice birthday.” Ana smiles, walking away.
That was that. Most people used moments like this to tell him what they thought of him, how much they admired him, how long they'd been fans, but this girl spoke to him like people spoke to cashiers, neighbors, coworkers. Of course, he’d met thousands of critics, bashing reporters, protestors, and so on. Everyone reacted to Homelander in one way or another. She treated him with respect, with sincerity. And that was something he craved now more than ever. The next person stepped forward. Homelander smiled automatically and uncapped his marker. Yet his eyes flicked toward the faculty once more before returning to the shirt in front of him. He didn’t know what to feel about it.
An hour passed before the meet-and-greet finally came to an end. The gymnasium buzzed with conversation as students shuffled back into their seats for the upcoming Q&A session. Teachers gathered along the sidelines, taking advantage of the brief lull before the next part of the event. Anastasia stood among her colleagues, half-listening to the conversation around her—
BOOM.
A deafening sound ripped through the building, making the floor tremble. Everyone went silent, a few murmurs of confusion. Anastasia’s eyebrows furrowed, “What was tha–” The stage of the gymnasium exploded, flinging a few students that were near the stage. Ashley’s face was drained of color. This was not planned, not at all. People screamed, ran for their lives, teachers directing students as Homelander stood in the middle of it all.
“Homelander–” Ashley ran towards him in a panic, “Get the fuck out of here, Ashley.” He barked. She quickly obeyed, holding her tablet tight as she ran like hell out of there. He lifted off the ground in an instant, a burst of wind ripping across the gym as he shot toward the burning stage. “GET BACK!” his voice thundered, loud enough to cut through the chaos.
The nearest students stumbled backward, obeying on instinct. The fire spread too fast for something accidental alone. Debris was still shifting, parts of the stage sagging inward, threatening to collapse fully into the gym floor. A cluster of students near the front row screamed as a section of scaffolding came down. Homelander caught it mid-fall with one hand, the metal groaned in his grip before he hurled it aside like it weighed nothing.
“MOVE!” he commanded again. People started scrambling. Anastasia got her class out of the gym, doing a head count as she did. Homelander blew past her, flying 2 students out. Checking behind her, most of the students were gone, the final few running out.
She ran out, relocating her class and counting. As she got to the final students, she counted one missing. “Malik. Has anyone seen Malik!?” She called out, her students shaken and murmuring no. She mentally cursed herself out, panic in her rising. She looked around, seeing Homelander landing and seeing Malik by his side. The weight on her heart lifted, she quickly ran towards them, “Oh, thank you.” She said, her panic disappearing. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Ana asked, her eyes scanning over to check for injury. “I’m fine.” The boy stammered.
“He’s unharmed.” Homelander spoke up, she nodded, a thankful glint in her eyes. “You got everyone out. I don’t know how to repay you.” Homelander tilted his head. “Repay him,” he thought. Most people said thank you, you’re incredible, all that shit. This was new. Why did that affect him? “You don’t need to do anything. Just get the shirt back to Austin.” He smiled, patting Malik on the back. “Go on." The boy hesitated, then ran towards his class.
“Oh fuck, the shirt. I must’ve dropped it.” She sighed, searching her bag. Her eyes flicked back toward the gym. The fire was already dying down. Smoke curled upward as firefighters pushed in and brought it under control. Homelander glanced briefly at the scene, then back to her “That’s fine. I can sign another shirt.” He shrugged. “I don’t have another shirt right now… Besides, I don’t want to bother you. You must be busy, it was my screw-up anyways.” She blamed herself, squeezing her nose-bridge.
“No, for Austin. I can make time.” He didn’t know why he insisted. He usually didn’t give a shit. Maybe he just didn't want the boy to be disappointed. His mind was blank of explanations for his words. “Don’t tell my team,” he spoke, lowering his voice slightly, “but I’ll give you my number. Call me whenever you have a new shirt.” Anastasia blinked. “Are you sure? I’m a stranger, what makes you so sure I won’t spam calls or give people your number?” Homelander stared at her for a moment. "Most people would've taken the number and run." A corner of his mouth twitched upward. "You immediately started listing reasons why I shouldn't give it to you." He folded the paper and held it out. "That's usually a good sign." Anastasia let out a small laugh. "Your standards are concerning."
For a brief second, the smile on his face became less practiced. Less Homelander. "Besides," he continued, offering the paper again, "if my number gets leaked, I'll know it was you." The joke landed somewhere between teasing and vaguely threatening. Ana raised an eyebrow, before shoving the paper in her pocket. “Okay. Thanks.” She said slowly, nodding. "Just text first. My schedule gets... complicated." "Thank you. He'll be thrilled." Homelander nodded. Perfectly normal, a kid lost an autographed shirt. He was replacing it. That was all.
Back at Vought Tower, Homelander “What the fuck happened, Ashley? Was that planned?” His eyes dropped onto her like a weight. “No—no, not at all,” she said quickly. “Find who did this.” His voice lowered. “This was an attack. On Vought. On me.” He tapped his chest lightly, like he was reminding her what mattered. “Of course, Homelander. We’ll get on it right away.” The second he was gone, Ashley squeezed her eyes shut, then snapped them open and barked into her phone for Crime Analytics to move, now.
An hour later, Homelander had arrived to the scene of his annual birthday save, despite having saved a large amount of people earlier. “Hi, Chelsea. It’s your lucky day! Well, consider it. You’re my annual birthday save.” “Don’t come any closer.” Chelsea said, her foot on the ledge. “Life is a precious gift. To throw yours away, it’d be a real slap in the Lord’s face, don’t you think? You don’t wanna go to hell for all eternity, do you?”
“I’m..Jewish.” His expression shifted, “Alright, well, regardless just step back from the ledge, please. Come on look, I’m here now. I’m just going to fly down and save you anyway.” He turned around, “It’s all futile..” His words faded as he read the screen behind him.
STORMFRONT SUICIDE
His eyebrows furrowed, a confused, almost sad and disappointed expression formed. “Sh..she wouldn’t. It’s my birthday.” Homelander said to himself, then the atmosphere changed. His face dropped flat, his ears ringing as he turned around. Ashley and the camera crew had been down by the building, recording and waiting for Homelander to swoop in if she jumps.
“Stormfront Million Dollar Babied herself, it’s horrible.” Ashley said to other Ashley.
SPLAT!
The sound cut through everything. She snapped her head, seeing blood and guts splattered all over the place. Ashley’s mouth dropped, looking up to the rooftop and lowering the camera. “Fuck me.”'
Later that night, Anastasia had just arrived home after spending half the day checking up on her students after the situation died down. She kicked off her shoes, going to the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. She took a sip and pulled out the piece of paper Homelander had given her from her pocket. It was weird, who carried around a piece of paper that had their number on it? She shrugged it off, pulling out her phone and typing the new contact in.
It felt weird having a personal number to Homelander. But, you never know what could happen. Setting her phone down after she had saved his number, she took the remote and turned on the TV, where Homelander’s Birthday Bash was aired live.
“Wow, I’m so honored to be with you guys tonight to celebrate my dear friend and mentor, Homelander.” Starlight spoke, a bright smile on her face. “I’m here to do more than wish you a happy birthday, though. I;m thrilled to be announcing a project that is near and dear to my heart. The Starlight House is a non-profit foundation dedicated to helping homeless and at-risk youth.”
“Hey Homelander!” A guy shouted from the audience. “Your Nazi died!” Everything went silent, though Homelander’s smile didn’t move. It looked more forced now. Starlight looked at him, before turning to the audience. “Homelander, he’s just a, he’s human. He’s just like the rest of us, and we all make mistakes, right? But, we all deserve second chances. In that spirit, Homelander has agreed to donate 10 million dollars to the Starlight House, which, I mean–" "No. No.” Homelander stepped up to the mic, “give it up, come on.” “No. No. No.”
Anastasia raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. “Starlight lied to you just now. She did. I don’t make mistakes. I’m not just like the rest of you. I’m stronger, I’m smarter, I’m better. I am better! I’m not some weak need fuckin’ crybaby who goes around fucking apologizing all the time. And why the fuck would you want me to be?” A pause. “Don’t you dare stop rolling, Roger.” He pointed.
“All my life people have tried to control me. My whole life. Rich people, powerful people, tried to muzzle me, cancel me, keep me impotent and–and obedient like I’m a fucking puppet. You know what? It worked, because I allowed it to work. And guess what? If they can control me, then you can bet your ass they can control you. They already do, you just don’t realize it. I’m done. I’m done apologizing, I am done being persecuted for my strength. You people, should be thanking Christ that I am who and what I am because you need me! You need me to save you. You do. I am the only one who possibly can. You’re not the real heroes. I’m the real hero.” He repeated—”I’m the real hero.”