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The glass shatters when he crashes in. Homelander jumps up from where he's seated on the floor. "Ryan!" His heart soars with the sight of him where he'd thought he'd never lay eyes on his son again. But his elation is short-lived. Ryan is pale, sweaty, shivering. Barely keeping himself on his feet.
"They-They put me in a r-room and fl-flooded it with- gas. I manag- to brea- the door. But. I- Dad, I don't feel good." The boy collapses, and Homelander is just about quick enough to dart forward and catch him.
Sage looks on. Apathetic as usual. "Calhoun?" she asks. "Still waiting."
"Well, if he's waited all this time, tell him to wait longer then!" he barks, and Sage seems to accept it, nodding and putting the phone to her ear.
He holds on to his unconscious son for dear life and carries him up the stairs to the boy's bedroom.
He brushes sweaty hair out of Ryan's face, notices his fluttering eyelids. "Wake up, bud. Please." Ryan does, but not fully. His body begins to convulse, and his face is scrunched up in agony. Whatever 'they' made him inhale, it's clearly working its way through his system. "Ryan? Ryan!"
Sage gently opens the door and slips in.
"What should I do?" he asks (maybe begs, though he wouldn't admit it).
"Nothing."
"Nothing?! You're the smartest person in the world, fucking give me advice!"
"His body will handle the drug, and then he'll be alright. There's only one thing he needs right now. And you're already here."
Ryan's fingers are desperately gripping Homelander's suit, hiccupped sobs and hoarse little cries wrenching themselves from his throat. It's torturous to listen to him. Homelander has never felt someone's pain like it's his own.
Drowning in helplessness, he cups the back of Ryan's head and pulls him closer. He begins to rock them both gently.
When minutes, hours, years in the white room of his memory where he lies poisoned have passed, Ryan's breath evens out, and his muscles relax. Homelander feels about ready to pass out as well.
He comes to because Ryan is trying to squirm out of his hold. It's morning now, he notes. They've spent a night sleeping off their exhaustion. He postponed his new America for this. "You're feeling better," he says, smiling and reaching out.
Ryan, still slightly pale, recoils from him. "I can't be here, Dad. Not anymore. They told me everything. About you. And Mom."
His blood runs cold. "And you believe them?"
The smile on his son's face is a small and tragic thing. "Yes." Then Ryan pads downstairs, out to the landing pad. Homelander doesn't stop him. "You know they tried to get me to kill you, right?" Ryan says.
It gives Homelander a clearer picture of just who 'they' are, and he begins to dream of William Butcher's head on a pike. "And what did you say?"
"I said no." Ryan shoots off into the sky, God knows where to.